He!...

perhaps...

I can't say." On the second occasion, now a little more accustomed to the idea, he replied "Probably" and on the third "Yes, definitely." Eventually, one evening at the club, carried away by some glasses of egg-nog, the public interest and the plaudits, he declared formally that he was tired of shooting at hats and was going shortly in pursuit of the great lions of Africa.
A loud cheer greeted this declaration, then came more egg-nog, handshakes, embraces and torchlight serenades until midnight before the little house of the baobab.
Tartarin-Sancho, however, was far from pleased.

The idea of travelling to Africa and hunting lions scared him stiff and when they went into the house, and while the serenade of honour was still going on outside, he made the most frightful scene with Tartarin-Quixote, calling him a crazy dreamer, a rash triple idiot and detailing one by one the catastrophes which would await him on such an expedition.

Shipwreck, fever, dysentery, plague, elephantiasis and so on...