“What is there to do? If we were Japanese, and reckless of human life, we might steal down there and set the mines adrift; but that would be a dangerous business, and if one or more got out into the ocean we might find ourselves practically responsible for the destruction of a Cape liner. But after all,” continued his lordship dreamily, sprawling at full length on the place that Mackeller had deserted, “after all, what is the use of this gold? You can’t eat it or drink it, except in London or Paris, or some such center of so-called civilization. You have just seen what brutes it makes of men in quest of it, when they will in cold blood prepare for the annihilation of their fellow creatures.” “But you knew all that, sir, before you left England.” “True, true, so I did; but here the fact has made a greater impression on my mind. I have arrived at a theory. I believe this spot to be the Garden of Eden. The soil and climate will grow anything. You may enjoy whatever temperature you like by simply rising higher and higher in the hills; the higher you get the lower the temperature. There is ample timber of all kinds, and yesterday I discovered a lovely waterfall which would give us enough electricity to endow a city with power, so I intend to found a modern Utopia, and have selected a spot where this very day we will begin to clear away the forest and build log huts. The nucleus of our colony will be situated at the head of the delta alongside the stream that passes the gold field and flows direct to the ocean. I shall move the steamer over there, and thus, Peter, you will be deserted, for I insist that you shall watch our potential enemies from this spot, and report by wireless what they are doing.” “So you intend to give up this mining property without a struggle?” “Oh, I hate struggling. The climate is too perfect to struggle. Let us be happy when there is a chance of happiness.” The young man reclined there with his hands clasped behind his head, looking up quizzically with half-closed eyes at the bewildered Mackeller. “By the way, Mackeller, there is something afloat on the river near the yacht that would interest you. Did I tell you I had picked up a little gem of a motor boat at Thomycroft’s, actually armored and bullet-proof? In it we could go down and visit the mine, and return, letting them pepper away at us, while we lay full length on deck protected by the armored bulwarks. No one could be hit, unless the shooter were on top of a church steeple. I think I’ll visit the mining camp.” “I strongly advise you, sir, to do nothing of the kind.” “Oh, very well, I won’t, then, but this little craft will come in handy for visiting you. It is a nimble little beast, and much more effective on these waters than the row boat.” “Are you in earnest about that Utopia, sir?” “Certainly, which reminds me I must make a beginning.” He rose, lazily stretched himself, nodded good-by to Mackeller, and proceeded in leisurely fashion down the hill.