,
and returned with a handful of little sticks round which some balls of
coloured threads were bound. "Knittin'-needles," said the sailor.
"Them ain't no knittin'-needles. Writin'? How could them be writin'?
Well, I heard tell once," replied the other. "It ees zeir way of
writing," said the Frenchman; "I 'ave seen; zat is zeir way of writing;
ze knots is zeir letters." "Bleedin' funny letters, I call 'em," said
the needles-theorist. "You and your needles," said the other. "Now,
what d'ye call 'em?" The bell upon the bridge clanged. "Eight bells,"
said the company; "aft to muster, boys." The bugle at the saloon-door
announced supper.

We were getting pretty well to the north--Mollendo, or
thereabouts--when I had my last conversation with the Frenchman. He
came up to me one night, as I sat on the deck to leeward of the winch,
keeping the first watch as snugly as I could. "You know zees coast
long?" he asked. I had not. Then came the never-ceasing, "'Ave you
know of ze Incas?" Yes, lot of general talk; and I had seen Incas
curios, mostly earthware, in every port in Peru. "You 'ave seen gold?"
No; there was never any gold. The Spaniards made a pretty general
average of any gold there was. "It ees a fool," he answered. "I tell
you," he went on, "it ees a fool. Zay have say zat; zey 'ave all say
zat; it ees a fool. Zere is gold. Zere is a hundred million pounds;
zere is twenty tousan' million dollars; zere is El Dorado. Beyond ze
mountains zere is El Dorado; zere is a town of gold. Zay say zere is
no gold? Zere is. I go to find ze gold; zat is what I do; I fin' ze
gold, I, Paul Bac." "Alone?" I asked. "I, Paul Bac," he answered.

I looked at him a moment. He was a little red-haired man, slightly
made, but alert and active-looking. He knew no Spanish, no Indian
dialects, and he had no comrade. I told him that I thought he didn't
know what he was doing. "Ha!" he said. "Listen: I go to Payta; I go
by train to Chito; zen I reach ze Morona River; from zere I reach
Marinha. Listen: El Dorado is between ze Caqueta and ze Putumayo
Rivers, in ze forest." I would have asked him how he knew, but I had
to break away to relieve the lookout. I wished the little man good
night; I never spoke with him again.

I thought of him all that watch, as I kept scanning the seas. I should
be going up and down, I thought, landing passengers through surf, or
swaying bananas out of launches, or crying the sounds as