to Australia, and home round Cape Horn. By Jove, I shan't
forget that. The devil was in the wind. We were five months coming home,
and nearly starved to death, and worked till we were as thin as hungry
cats. Then I shipped with the Boyle-Geering expedition--you know--North
Pole, and three years trying to get there. Then I tried a change of
climate and went to Central Africa with Freke. I was his servant, got
his bath, shaved him, brushed his clothes--he was always a bit of a
dandy, Freke, and lived like a gentleman, though I don't believe he was
any better than I was when he started; but he could fight too, and there
wasn't his equal with niggers. We had trouble that trip, and the men who
went out with him were a rotten lot. They'd found the money, or he
wouldn't have taken them. He knew a man when he saw one. When we came
home I was second in command.

"It was easy after that. I led that expedition through Uganda when I was
only twenty-five; and the rest--well, the rest I dare say you know."

"Yes, I know," said Jim. "You've done a lot."

"Not so bad, eh, for a workhouse brat?"

"Not so bad for anybody."

"I'm up top now. I used to envy lots of people. Now most people envy
me."

Jim was silent.

Mackenzie turned to him. "I suppose you've had a pretty easy time
travelling," he said. There was a suspicion of a sneer on his long thin
lips.

"Pretty easy," said Jim.

"Ah! Your sort of travelling is rather different from mine. If you had
been roughing it in Tibet for the last two years you would be pretty
glad to be getting back."

"I'm glad to be getting back as it is."

Mackenzie turned and leaned over the rail again. "Well, I don't know
that I don't envy you a bit after all," he said. "I've got no friends in
England. I'm not a man to make friends. The big-wigs will take me up
this time. I know that from what I've seen. I shall be a lion. I suppose
I shall be able to go anywhere I like. But there's nowhere I want to go
to particularly, when I've had enough of London. You've got your country
home. Lord, how I've thought of the English country, in summer time!
Thirsted for it. But it has to belong to you, in a way. I've a good mind
to buy a little place--I shall be able to afford it when my book comes
out. But I should want a wife to keep it warm for me. You're not
married, I suppose?"

"No."

"Going to be?"

Jim made no reply.

Mackenzie laughed. "Mustn't ask questions, I suppose," he said. "I'm a
rou