“And rubber!  There’s the chance for a man with capital.  Rubber!”

“I will—­I mean, is that so?”

“Ever see any rubber-trees?”

“Only in Brooklyn.”

“I mean wild rubber.  This country is full of it; the natives bring it in.  All you have to do is buy timber land—­you can get it for a song—­plant your rubber-seed, and let ’er go, Gallagher!  In ten years you go back, cut off your timber, sell it for enough to make you rich, and there is your rubber—­velvet!” he concluded, triumphantly.

“Rubber velvet?”

“Yes.  It’s ’velvet’—­all clear.  You can’t lose.  My boy, there’s a thousand ways to get rich down here, and I know ’em all.  What I need is capital.  If I had your father’s backing—­Say!  It’s a mighty good thing you came to see me.  I can do your old man a lot of good.  I’m conservative, I am, and what he needs is a good, conservative man to manage his investments.  Why, talk about quick money”—­the speaker thrust forth a finger that looked like a peeled banana—­“I’ve got a gold-mine—­”

“Not a bit like it.”  Kirk shook his head.  “They don’t behave.”

“This one will.  It’s an old Spanish mine and hasn’t been worked for three centuries.  It’s rich, rich!  I’ll take you in as my partner, and we’ll get your father to open it up.  What do you say?  If he doesn’t like that, we’ll get him a street-railway franchise; I’m close to the government, and there isn’t a steel rail in any city of the republic.  I know all the Spiggoty politicians.”

“The what?” “The Spiggoties!  That’s what we call the Panamanians.  They ‘no spiggoty English’; understand?”

“It’s a funny name.”

“Now, my boy, there’s one thing I want you to be careful of.  Don’t let some of these fellows around here get you excited.  This country is full of promoters, cheap skates, and that sort, and they’ll try to stampede you into some investment.  You trust to me; I’m conservative.  I’ll put you up at the club, and when you get straightened around we’ll talk business.  Meanwhile, I’ll send this cable.”

Mr. Weeks was even better than his word.  He took Kirk with him, and went heaving down the street, his body quivering at every step as if hung upon a whalebone framework, the breath wheezing noisily in and out of his chest, the perspiration streaming from his purple face in rivulets.  He put up his guest at the club and invited some of his friends to join them for dinner that evening on the wide balcony; then, noting Anthony’s heavy clothing, he said: 

“You need some linens, Kirk.  That suit looks like a dog bed.  You don’t mind my calling you Kirk, do you?”

“I’m flattered.  However, I can’t get ready-made clothes large enough, and, besides, it’s hardly worth while for the length of time—­”

“Nonsense.  Now you’re here we won’t let you go right back.  There’s a Chinese tailor on Bottle Alley who’ll have you a suit to measure by noon to-morrow, and he only charges seven dollars, goods and all.”