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how the old-time Indians used to scalp their enemies, I’m going to the moving pictures! I’m willing to be your financial manager, Tom Swift, but please don’t ask me to be a high-brow. I wasn’t built for that.”
“Nor I, Ned. The professor isn’t going to lecture. He’s only going to talk, he says.”
“What about?”
“He’s going to try to induce me to join his expedition to the Copan valley.”
“Do you feel inclined to go?”
“No, Ned, I do not. I’ve got too many other irons in the fire. I shall have to give the professor a polite but firm refusal.”
“Well, maybe you’re right, Tom; and yet that idol of gold — gold — weighing how many pounds did you say?”
“Oh, you’re thinking of its money value, Ned, old man!”
“Yes, I’d like to see what a big chunk of gold like that would bring. It must be quite a nugget. But I’m not likely to get a glimpse of it if you don’t go with the professor.”
“I don’t see how I can go, Ned. But come over and meet the delightful gentleman when he arrives. I expect him day after to-morrow.”
“I’ll be here,” promised Ned; and then he went downtown to attend to some matters connected
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with his new duties, which were much less irksome than those he had had when he had been in the bank.
“Well, Tom, have you heard any more about your friend?” asked Ned, two days later, as he came to the Swift home with some papers needing the signature of the young inventor and his father.
“You mean — — ?”
“Professor Bumper.”
“No, I haven’t heard from him since he telephoned. But I guess he’ll be here all right. He’s very punctual. Did you see anything of my giant Koku as you came in?”