e nearly cost him his life, contracted, no doubt, at that
unhealthy Crocodile Water.

Our reception at Beza was most imposing, for the whole population,
headed by old Bausi himself, came out to meet us with loud shouts of
welcome, from which we had to ask them to desist for Stephen's sake.

So in the end we got back to our huts with gratitude of heart. Indeed,
we should have been very happy there for a while, had it not been for
our anxiety about Stephen. But it is always thus in the world; who was
ever allowed to eat his pot of honey without finding a fly or perhaps a
cockroach in his mouth?

In all, Stephen was really ill for about a month. On the tenth day after
our arrival at Beza, according to my diary, which, having little else
to do, I entered up fully at this time, we thought that he would surely
die. Even Brother John, who attended him with the most constant skill,
and who had ample quinine and other drugs at his command, for these we
had brought with us from Durban in plenty, gave up the case. Day and
night the poor fellow raved and always about that confounded orchid, the
loss of which seemed to weigh upon his mind as though it were a whole
sackful of unrepented crimes.

I really think that he owed his life to a subterfuge, or rather to a
bold invention of Hope's. One evening, when he was at his very worst and
going on like a mad creature about the lost plant--I was present in the
hut at the time alone with him and her--she took his hand and pointing
to a perfectly open space on the floor, said:

"Look, O Stephen, the flower has been brought back."

He stared and stared, and then to my amazement answered:

"By Jove, so it has! But those beggars have broken off all the blooms
except one."

"Yes," she echoed, "but one remains and it is the finest of them all."

After this he went quietly to sleep and slept for twelve hours, then
took some food and slept again and, what is more, his temperature went
down to, or a little below, normal. When he finally woke up, as it
chanced, I was again present in the hut with Hope, who was standing
on the spot which she had persuaded him was occupied by the orchid. He
stared at this spot and he stared at her--me he could not see, for I was
behind him--then said in a weak voice:

"Didn't you tell me, Miss Hope, that the plant was where you are and
that the most beautiful of the flowers was left?"

I wondered what on earth her answer would be. However, she rose to the