"
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 Somers, in which I set forth the whole
matter as clearly as I could, not blinking the dangerous nature of our
undertaking.
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