Two men--one young, the other about fifty--sat in the veranda of a
small bungalow. It was after breakfast. They lay back in long bamboo
chairs, each with a cigar. It looked as if they were resting. In
reality they were talking business, and that very seriously.
'Yes, sir,' said the elder man, with something of an American
accent, 'I have somehow taken a fancy to this place. The situation is
healthy.'
'Well, I don't know; I've had more than one touch of fever here.'
'The climate is lovely--'
'Except in the rains.'
'The soil is fertile--'
'I've dropped five thousand in it, and they haven't come up again
yet.'
'They will. I have been round the estate, and I see money in it. Well,
sir, here's my offer: five thousand down, hard cash, as soon as the
papers are signed.'
Reginald sat up. He was on the point of accepting the proposal, when
a pony rode up to the house, and the rider, a native groom, jumped off
and gave him a note. He opened it and read. It was from his nearest
neighbour, two or three miles away:
Don't sell that man your estate. Gold has been found. The
whole country is full of gold. Hold on. He's an assayer. If
he offers to buy, be quite sure that he has found gold on your
land.
F.G.
He put the note into his pocket, gave a verbal message to the boy,
and turned to his guest, without betraying the least astonisment or
emotion.
'I beg your pardon. The note was from Bellamy, my next neighbour.
Well? You were saying--'
'Only that I have taken a fancy--perhaps a foolish fancy--to this
place of yours, and I'll give you, if you like, all that you have
spent upon it.'
'Well,' he replied reflectively, but with a little twinkle in his eye,
'that seems handsome. But the place isn't really worth the half that
I spent upon it. Anybody would tell you that. Come, let us be honest,
whatever we are. I'll tell you a better way. We will put the matter
into the hands of Bellamy. He knows what a coffee plantation is worth.
He shall name a price, and if we can agree upon that, we will make a
deal of it.'
The other man changed colour. He wanted to settle the thing at once
as between gentlemen. What need of third parties? But Reginald stood
firm, and he presently rode away, quite sure that in a day or two this
planter, too, would have heard the news.
A month later, the young coffee-planter stood on the deck of a steamer
homeward bound. In his pocket-book was a plan of his auriferous
estate; in a bag hanging round his neck was a small collection of
yellow nuggets; in his boxes was a chosen assortment of quartz.