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“Ah, you are surprised, señor.”

“Surprised! I ' m knocked cold! I did n't know anything this big was being done in Venezuela.”

“Well, this isn't exactly in Venezuela, señor.”

“No! How's that!”

“We are now in the free and independent territory of Rio Negro, señor. We are now under the jurisdiction of General Adriano Fombombo. You observe the difference at once.”

By this time the motor was again below the level of the alcornoque growth and the men began discussing what they had seen.

“What 'a the object of it!” asked Strawbridge.

“The general is going to canalize at least one half of this entire Orinoco valley. This sandy stretch you see around you, señor, will be as fat as the valley of the Nile.”

The idea seized on the drummer's American imagination.

“Why!” he exclaimed, “this is amazing! it's splendid! Why haven't I heard of this? Why haven't the American capitalists got wind of this?”

Gumersindo shrugged.

“The federal authorities are not advertising an insurgent general, señor.”

After a moment the drummer ejaculated:

“He will be one of the richest men in the world!”

Gumersindo loosed a hand from the steering-wheel a moment, to hold it up in protest.

“Don't say that! General Fombombo is an idealist, señor. It is his dream to create a super-civilization here in the Orinoco Valley. He will be wealthy; the whole nation will be wealthy,—yes, enormously wealthy,—but what lies beyond wealth! When a people become wealthy, what lies beyond that!”

This was evidently a question which the drummer was to answer, so he said: