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“Twelve years. Part of the time I’m at the Bogota office.”

“Tell us a little about the Last Chance mine,” Mr. Livingston urged.

“Nothing to tell. Emerald mining is a government monopoly here, but an American outfit got a concession. The best emeralds in the world are found in Colombia.” For the first time, since the Scouts had met him, Mr. Baronni showed enthusiasm. “The Last Chance has been worked off and on before the coming of the Spaniards. But the mine’s playing out. Since your friend Corning took over, production has dropped alarmingly. Any day now I expect to get word from the company to close down completely.”

“Sounds rather discouraging,” Mr. Livingston commented. “What seems to be the trouble?”

“Corning doesn’t know how to handle the Indians. They steal him blind. Another thing, the mine is playing out. It’s up to him to find another vein of emeralds, and find it quick. The former engineer should have been left in charge.”

Mr. Livingston eyed the agent thoughtfully, but made no comment. It had been apparent from the first, that Ferd Baronni had no love for Appleby Corning.