s of savages, while success was quite problematical and very
likely would not be attained.

"_You_ are taking these risks," he said.

"Yes," I answered, "but they are incident to the rough trade I follow,
which is that of a hunter and explorer. Moreover, my youth is past,
and I have gone through experiences and bereavements of which you know
nothing, that cause me to set a very slight value on life. I care little
whether I die or continue in the world for some few added years. Lastly,
the excitement of adventure has become a kind of necessity for me. I
do not think that I could live in England for very long. Also I'm a
fatalist. I believe that when my time comes I must go, that this hour is
foreordained and that nothing I can do will either hasten or postpone it
by one moment. Your circumstances are different. You are quite young.
If you stay here and approach your father in a proper spirit, I have
no doubt but that he will forget all the rough words he said to you the
other day, for which indeed you know you gave him some provocation. Is
it worth while throwing up such prospects and undertaking such
dangers for the chance of finding a rare flower? I say this to my own
disadvantage, since I might find it hard to discover anyone else who
would risk L2,000 upon such a venture, but I do urge you to weigh my
words."

Young Somers looked at me for a little while, then he broke into one of
his hearty laughs and exclaimed, "Whatever else you may be, Mr. Allan
Quatermain, you are a gentleman. No bullion-broker in the City could
have put the matter more fairly in the teeth of his own interests."

"Thank you," I said.

"For the rest," he went on, "I too am tired of England and want to
see the world. It isn't the golden Cypripedium that I seek, although I
should like to win it well enough. That's only a symbol. What I seek are
adventure and romance. Also, like you I am a fatalist. God chose His own
time to send us here, and I presume that He will choose His own time to
take us away again. So I leave the matter of risks to Him."

"Yes, Mr. Somers," I replied rather solemnly. "You may find adventure
and romance, there are plenty of both in Africa. Or you may find a
nameless grave in some fever-haunted swamp. Well, you have chosen, and I
like your spirit."

Still I was so little satisfied about this business, that a week or so
before we sailed, after much consideration, I took it upon myself to
write a letter to Sir Alexander