"
"I thought you were looking pretty bad."
"I ought to be. I've swallowed so much quinine since I saw you last
that my ears are buzzing still. And then there are the insects. They
all bite. Some bite worse than others, but not much. Darn it! even the
butterflies bite out there. Every animal in the country has some other
animal constantly chasing it until a white man comes along, when they
call a truce and both chase him. And the vegetation is so thick and
grows so quickly that you have to cut down the jungle about the
workings every few days or so to avoid being swamped by it. Otherwise,"
finished Hank, refilling his pipe and lighting it, "the place is a
pretty good kind of summer resort."
"And you're going back to it? Back to the quinine and the beasts and
the butterflies?"
"Sure. The gold runs up to twenty dollars the cubic yard and is worth
eighteen dollars an ounce."
"When are you going?"
"I'm in no hurry. This year, next year, some time, never. No, not
never. Call it some time."
"And you want me to come, too?"
"I would give half of whatever there is in the mine to have you come.
But things being as they are, well, I guess we can call it off. Is
there any chance in the world, Kirk, of your ever ceasing to be a
bloated capitalist? Could any of your stocks go back on you?"
"I doubt it.
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