“So we’re all rich?” suggested Monty.

“Of course we are!  Listen!  The British government took Tippoo’s slaves away and busted his business.  Made him come and live in this place, go to church on Sundays, and be good.  Then they asked him what he’d done with his ivory.  Asked him politely after putting him through that mill!  One-eye here says Tippoo had a million tusks—­a million!—­safely buried!  Government offered him ten per cent. of their cash value if he’d tell ’em where, and the old sport spat in their faces!  Swears he’ll die with the secret!  One-eye vows Tippoo is the only one who knows.  There were others, but Tippoo shot or poisoned ’em.”

“So we’re rich,” smiled Yerkes.

“Of course we are!  Consider this, America, and tell me if Standard Oil can beat it!  One million tusks I I’m told—­”

“By whom?”

“One-eye says—­”

“You’ll say ‘Oh!’ at me to a different tune, before I’ve done!  One-eye says it never paid to carry a tusk weighing less than sixty pounds.  Some tusks weigh two hundred—­some even more—­took four men to carry some of ’em!  Call it an average weight of one hundred pounds and be on the safe side.”

“Yes, let’s play safe,” agreed Monty seriously.

“One hundred million pounds of ivory!” said Fred, with a smack of his lips and the air of a man who could see the whole of it.  “The present market price of new ivory is over ten shillings a pound on the spot.  That’ll all be very old stuff, worth at least double.  But let’s say ten shillings a pound and be on the safe side.”

“Yes, let’s!” laughed Yerkes.

“One thousand million—­a billion shillings!” Fred announced.  “Fifty million pounds!”

“Two hundred and fifty million dollars!” Yerkes calculated, beginning to take serious notice.

“But how are we to find it?” I objected.

“That’s the point.  Government ’ud hog the lot, but has hunted high and low and can’t find it.  So the offer stands ten per cent. to any one who does—­ten per cent. of fifty million—­lowest reckoning, mind you!—­five million pounds!  Half for Monty—­two and a half million.  A million for Yerkes, a million for me, and a half a million for you all according to contract!  How d’you like it?”

“Well enough,” I answered.  “If its only the hundredth part true, I’m enthusiastic!”

“So now suit yourselves!” said Fred, collapsing with a sweep of his skirts into the nearest chair.  “I’ve told you what One-eye says.  These dusky gents sometimes exaggerate of course—­”

“Now and then,” admitted Monty.

“But where there’s smoke you mean there’s prob’ly some one smoking hams?” suggested Yerkes.

“I mean, let’s find that ivory!” said Fred.

“We might do worse than make an inquiry or two,” Monty assented cautiously.

“Didums, you damned fool, you’re growing old!  You’re wasting time!  You’re trying to damp enthusiasm!  You’re—­you’re—­”