all. The inhabitants of the country, besides tigers, were savages.

Many a stream did Forstermann explore under the most uncomfortable
circumstances, wading thigh-deep, hour after hour, day after day. I am
sorry that I have not room even to summarise the long letter in which he
detailed those adventures.

To search the upland waters would have been comparatively easy; he might
have walked along the bank. But the Cypripedium grew in a valley; and
nowhere is tropical vegetation more dense than in those steaming clefts
which fall from the mountains of Bhutan. To cut a path was out of the
question; the work would have lasted for months, putting expense aside. It
was necessary to march up the bed of the stream.

Forstermann ascended each tributary with patient hopefulness, knowing that
success was certain if he could hold out. And it came at length to one so
deserving; but the manager had wandered to a much greater distance than he
thought. After wading all the forenoon up a torrent which had not yet lost
its highland chill, Forstermann reached a glade, encircled by rocks steep
as a wall--so steep that he had to fashion rakes of bamboo wherewith to
drag down the masses of orchid which clung to them. It was Cypripedium
Spicerianum!

Then arose the difficulty of getting his plunder away. After much
journeying to and fro, Forstermann engaged thirty-two Bhutias, half of
them to carry rice for the others along those mountain tracks, where 25
lbs. is a heavy load. So they travelled until, one day, after halting at a
village, the men refused to advance. The road ahead was occupied by a
tiger--I should mention that such alarms had been incessant; in no country
are tigers so common or so dangerous as in Bhutan. Forstermann drove them
along; at the next bit of jungle eight threw down their loads and
vanished. He found himself obliged to return, but eight more were missing
when he reached the village. There was no other road. Gradually the poor
fellow perceived that he must abandon his enterprise or clear the path. At
sunset, they told him, the brute would be watching--probably in a tree,
described with precision. Forstermann spent the time in writing farewell
letters--making his will, perhaps. Towards sunset, he took a rifle and a
gun and sallied forth.

The Bhutias assured him that there was no danger--from this enemy, at
least--until he reached the neighbourhood of the tree; but we may imagine
the terrors of that lonely walk,