So I went in to see the patient and found him cheerful enough, though weak from weariness and loss of blood, with Miss Hope feeding him with broth from a wooden native spoon.

I didn't stop very long, especially after he got on to the subject of the lost orchid, about which he began to show signs of excitement.

This I allayed as well as I could by telling him that I had preserved a pod of the seed, news at which he was delighted.
"There!" he said.

"To think that you, Allan, should have remembered to take that precaution when I, an orchidist, forgot all about it!" "Ah! my boy," I answered, "I have lived long enough to learn never to leave anything behind that I can possibly carry away.

Also, although not an orchidist, it occurred to me that there are more ways of propagating a plant than from the original root, which generally won't go into one's pocket." Then he began to give me elaborate instructions as to the preservation of the seed-pod in a perfectly dry and air-tight tin box, etc., at which point Miss Hope unceremoniously bundled me out of the tent.
That afternoon we held a conference at which it was agreed that we should begin our return journey to Beza Town at once, as the place where we were camped was very malarious and there was always a risk of the Pongo paying us another visit.
So a litter was made with a mat stretched over it in which Stephen could be carried, since fortunately there were plenty of bearers, and our other simple preparations were quickly completed.