Bones had now reached the stage where he had ceased to be annoyed, and when he found some interest in the situation. "What sort of conveyance would you like, sir?" he asked curiously. (If you can imagine him pausing half a bar before every "sir," you may value its emphasis.) "Isn't there a steamer I can have?" demanded the man. "Hasn't Sanders got a Government steamer?" "Pardon my swooning," said Bones, sinking into a chair. "Well, how am I going to get up?" asked the man. "Are you a good swimmer?" demanded Bones innocently. "Look here," said Mr. Corklan, "you aren't a bad fellow. I rather like you." "I'm sorry," said Bones simply. "I rather like you," repeated Mr. Corklan. "You might give me a little help." "It is very unlikely that I shall," said Bones. "But produce your proposition, dear old adventurer." "That is just what I am," said the other. He bit off the end of another cigar and lit it with the glowing butt of the old one. "I have knocked about all over the world, and I have done everything. I've now a chance of making a fortune. There is a tribe here called the N'gombi. They live in a wonderful rubber country, and I am told that they have got all the ivory in the world, and stacks of rubber hidden away." Now, it is a fact--and Bones was surprised to hear it related by the stranger--that the N'gombi are great misers and hoarders of elephant tusks. For hundreds of years they have traded ivory and rubber, and every village has its secret storehouse. The Government had tried for years to wheedle the N'gombi into depositing their wealth in some State store, for riches mean war sooner or later. They lived in great forests--the word N'gombi means "interior"--in lands full of elephants and rich in rubber trees. "You are a regular information bureau," said Bones admiringly. "But what has this to do with your inquiry into the origin of the candy tree?" The man smoked in silence for awhile, then he pulled from his pocket a big map. Again Bones was surprised, because the map he produced was the official map of the Territories. He traced the river with his fat forefinger. "Here is the N'gombi country from the east bank of the Isisi, and this is all forest, and a rubber tree to every ten square yards." "I haven't counted them," said Bones, "but I'll take your word." "Now, what does this mean?" Mr. Corklan indicated a twisting line of dots and dashes which began at the junction of the Isisi River and the Great River, and wound tortuously over five hundred miles of country until it struck the Sigi River, which runs through Spanish territory. "What is that?" he asked. "That, or those," said Bones, "are the footprints of the mighty swoozlum bird that barks with its eyes an' lives on buttered toast an' hardware."