heartbroken hope to see him once more before he died, I
went even as I was, to a train and made all haste to his bedside."

"What was his name?" asked Orme.

"Lopez," replied Senhor Poritol promptly; and Orme knew that the answer
might as well have been Smith. But the little man returned quickly to his
story.

"My friend had no strength left. He was, oh, so weak that I wept to see
him. But he sent the doctor and the priest out of the room, and then--and
then he whispered in my ear a secret. He had discovered rich gold in the
Urinaba country. He had been trying to earn money to go back and dig up
the gold. But, alas! now he was dying, and he wished to give the secret
to me, his old friend.

"Tears streamed on my cheek." Senhor Poritol's eyes filled, seemingly at
the remembrance. "But I took out my fountain-pen to write down the
directions he wished to give. See--this was the pen." He produced a
gold-mounted tube from his waistcoat.

"I searched my pockets for a piece of paper. None could I discover. There
was no time to be lost, for my friend was growing weaker, oh, very fast.
In desperation I took a five-dollar bill, and wrote upon it the
directions he gave me for finding the gold. Even as I finished it, dear
Lopez breathed his last breath."

Orme puffed at his cigar. "So the bill carries directions for finding a
rich deposit in the Urinaba Mountains?"

"Yes, my dear sir. But you would not rob me of it. You could not
understand the directions."

"Oh, no." Orme laughed. "I have no interest in South American gold
mines."

"Then accept this fresh bill," implored Senhor Poritol, "and give me back
the one I yearn for."

Orme hesitated. "A moment more," he said. "Tell me, how did you lose
possession of the marked bill?"

The South American writhed in his chair and leaned forward eagerly. "That
is the most distressing part of all," he exclaimed. "I had left Chicago
at a time when my presence in this great city was very important indeed.
Nothing but the call from a dying friend would have induced me to go
away. My whole future in this country depended upon my returning in time
to complete certain business.

"So, after dear Lopez was dead, I rushed to the local railroad station. A
train was coming in. I searched my pocket for my money to buy my ticket.
All I could find was the five-dollar bill!

"It was necessary to return to Chicago; yet I could not lose the bill. A
happy thought struck me. I wrote upon the fac