But the
demand is increasing so rapidly that in ten years there will be a
famine. Think of it--a famine of cocoanuts!" Mr. Weeks paused to
lend dramatic effect.
"That's fierce," Kirk acknowledged. "What are they good for?"
"Eating! People make cakes out of them, and oil, and candy. Good
cocoanut land can be bought for fifty cents an acre, selected
seeds for five cents each, labor is sixty cents a day. No frosts,
no worms, no bugs. You sit still and they drop in your lap."
"The bugs?"
"No! No! The cocoanuts."
"Fine!"
"But that's nothing. Do you realize that this soil will raise
sugar-cane the size of your--of my--thigh, and once you plant it
you can't keep it cut out?"
"It's all news to me."
"You can buy sugar-cane land for a dollar an acre; it costs--"
"I'm no good at figures, Mr. Weeks."
"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.
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