"I will tell you what I know it is," said the man, looking up and looking Bones straight in the eye--"it is one of those secret rivers you are always finding in these 'wet' countries. The natives tell you about 'em, but you never find 'em. They are rivers that only exist about once in a blue moon, when the river is very high and the rains are very heavy. Now, down in the Spanish territory"--he touched Bones's knee with great emphasis--"they tell me that their end of the secret river is in flood." "They will tell you anything in the Spanish territory," said Bones pleasantly. "They'd tell you your jolly old fortune if you'd cross their palms with silver." "What about your end?" asked the man, ignoring the scepticism of his host. "Our end?" said Bones. "Well, you will find out for yourself. I'd hate to disappoint you." "Now, how am I going up?" asked the man after a pause. "You can hire a canoe, and live on the land, unless you have brought stores." The man chuckled. "I've brought no stores. Here, I will show you something," he said. "You are a very good fellow." He opened his bag and took out a tight packet which looked like thin skins. There must have been two or three hundred of them. "That's my speciality," he said. He nipped the string that tied them together, stripped one off, and, putting his lips to one end, blew. The skin swelled up like a toy balloon. "Do you know what that is?" "No, I cannot say I do," said Bones. "You have heard of Soemmering's process?" Bones shook his head. "Do you know what decimal 1986 signifies?" "You've got me guessing, my lad," said Bones admiringly. The other chuckled, threw the skins into his bag, and closed it with a snap. "That's my little joke," he said. "All my friends tell me it will be the death of me one of these days. I like to puzzle people"--he smiled amiably and triumphantly in Bones's face--"I like to tell them the truth in such a way they don't understand it. If they understood it--Heavens, there'd be the devil to pay!" "You are an ingenious fellow," said Bones, "but I don't like your face. You will forgive my frankness, dear old friend." "Faces aren't fortunes," said the other complacently, "and I am going out of this country with money sticking to me." "I'm sorry for you," said Bones, shaking his head; "I hate to see fellows with illusions." He reported all that occurred to the Commissioner, and Sanders was a little worried. "I wish I knew what his game is," he said; "I'd stop him like a shot, but I can't very well in the face of the Administrator's wire. Anyway, he will get nothing out of the N'gombi. I've tried every method to make the beggars bank their surpluses, and I have failed." "He has got to come back this way, at any rate," said Hamilton, "and I cannot see that he will do much harm." "What is the rest of his baggage like?"