When we landed at Corisco, the chairman of the sub-committee immediately sought out Gran'pa, and took him away to some secret place of concourse.
No one knows what the chairman said or did, or what prevented Gran'pa's being his normal, dominating self. If ever the full story of those later days comes to be written this will still remain one of the unsolved riddles of his existence. He was always an impulsive man; but what followed that interview was downright recklessness, folly, idiocy.
"George," he said, "I've decided to stay on here for another season's gorilla hunting."
"You're mad!" I exclaimed.
"All actions worth while appear stupid to the timid and cautious," he replied, smoothly and pompously.
"I won't quibble with you. All I want to know is why are you doing it? WHY? . . ."
"It's a kink in me, George. The glamour of Corisco—the joy of the chase—the dangers and excitements—the BIGNESS of it all, compared with the quiet, suburban respectability awaiting me in England or even America. . . . I want to live—while I'm still alive. I want the candle to burn not only at both ends, but brilliantly. As Kipling has it, let me 'fill the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds' worth of distance run.' I must live. To vegetate would be to annihilate myself. I should—burst! . . . Let me die with my boots on, George!"
His eyes shone, his face glowed, his whole body was vibrant with emotion. I was carried away in spite of myself. It took me several minutes to recover.
When I did, it was only to bow to the inevitable. Gran'pa's determination was like granite. Unmoved by the storm of entreaties hurled at him by Sally and me, he began making his plans at once.
Moreover, he drew to his aid other adventurous spirits. Stringer, Croft, Oakley and Newland all turned their backs on England. It was like an upheaval in a Government. Sally and I were deserted by even our best friends. We were dethroned. Our only consolation was that we were not quite alone.