"This isn't a mine," Carter shouted exultantly, "it's a quarry! Bring a steamer up alongside here, and every man that works could shovel two hundred sovereigns' worth of ore into her from these dumps each hour without so much as putting a pick in. Why, the outcrops are scarcely leached at all. When we've worked twenty yards or so into the veins I'll rig a temperley transporter and guy it to these rocks above, and run the stuff straight from where it grew into a steamer's holds. Great Christopher! Kate had better look out: I'm not going to let her be the only millionaire on earth." "Dem stones with yellow glass on him worth money?" asked White-Man's-Trouble. "Heaps." "In Liverpool?" "Well, say Swansea or Cardiff; practically the same thing." "No worth money here?" "I'd sell you a ton for a fill of tobacco." "How you get it to coast? You no fit to pay carriers." "By water, my pagan friend. We make steamah lib for here." "Steamah no fit," said the Krooboy, and spat contemptuously into the yellow stream. "Dem cappies no savvy way here. Dem ribber no savvy way to Coast." "That's a bit beyond my linguistic powers. You must translate some more." "Dem ribber," the Krooboy explained patiently, "no fit for run to dem sea." "Then where the deuce does it run to? Does a Ju-ju drink it?" "Ju-ju no fit for touch dem ribber," said White-Man's-Trouble, taking the question literally. "But dem ribber run into dem squidge-squidge, an' lib for die!" "Runs into a swamp and gets lost! My great Christopher, the odds are you're right. But why in the name of thunder didn't you tell me that before?" "I no savvy," said the Krooboy simply, "where you come. O Carter, I come after you from Mokki because I think you no fit for carry dem bag." Carter swung round and picked up White-Man's-Trouble's hand and shook it heartily. "You've got a very white inside to you," he said. But the African was not flattered. He pulled away his limp hand as soon as it was set free, and rubbed his abdomen nervously. "O Carter, I no fit for white inside. I no ju-ju boy. I dam common Krooboy." Thence onwards there was impressed on Carter's mind these three great facts--One: He had found a mine of immense potential value. Two: He could never turn his minerals into cash unless he could find a water channel down to the Coast. And three: If he couldn't discover that channel himself no one else would, at any rate for his benefit. He thought these matters over during one torrid night, and resolved to devote the next day to exploration. He had had predecessors on the place, house building predecessors who had left a series of rust-streaks which he translated into mining tools. Presumably they were Europeans. How did they propose to deal with this ore? Smelt it on the spot, or bag it and get it to the Coast?