"Then you don't feel like backing me up in this matter, Mr.
Swift?"

"No, Alec, I can't say I do. Why, just stop and think for a
minute. You're asking me to put ten thousand dollars into a
company, to fit out an expedition to go to this island--somewhere
down near Panama, you say it is--and try to locate the lost mine
from which, some centuries ago, opals and other precious stones
came. It doesn't seem reasonable."

"But I'm sure I can find the mine, Mr. Swift!" persisted Alec
Peterson, who was almost as elderly a man as the one he
addressed. "I have the old documents that tell how rich the mine
once was, how the old Mexican rulers used to get their opals from
it, and how all trace of it was lost in the last century. I have
all the landmarks down pat, and I'm sure I can find it. Come on
now, take a chance. Put in this ten thousand dollars. I can
manage the rest. You'll get back more than five times your
investment."

"If you find the mine--yes."

"I tell you I will find it! Come now, Mr. Swift," and the
visitor's voice was very pleading, "you and your son Tom have
made a fortune for yourselves out of your different inventions.
Be generous, and lend me this ten thousand dollars."

Mr. Swift shook his head.

"I've heard you talk the same way before, Alec," he replied.