“Yes, Sir James, and I think also that you are not troubled with many. Of course we are not going to imitate Mr Pickwick, and a wheelbarrow is quite out of the question.”
“Now, look here, sir,” cried Sir James angrily—but somehow there was a want of reality in his tones—“don’t you begin to suggest impossibilities. I think I know what you are aiming at.”
“I should not be surprised, sir, if you do. Now, of course if we went on this expedition, or expeditions, we should be going through forests often nearly impassable; but I think I have read—”
“Oh, yes, I know,” said Sir James shortly, and the boys watched the doctor with eager eyes, and as they caught his he gave to each a keen encouraging look; “you have read everything—a deal too much, I think,” he grumbled, almost inaudibly.
”—that,” continued the doctor, making believe that he had not heard the baronet’s tetchy words, “great use is made of the blacks in Africa and India, who are quite accustomed to using a litter for the sportsmen in hunting expeditions, for the benefit of their employers.”
Sir James set his son’s shoulder free by giving him a fierce thrust, and his own hand too, so as to bring down his doubled fist upon the library table.
“Look here, sir,” he roared, “do you for a moment think that I would consent to be carried stretched out on a couple of poles raised shoulder high by a pack of niggers? Because if you do—”
“And sometimes,” continued the doctor calmly, “the sure-footed ponies of a country are very much used by travellers and hunting parties, for it is necessary that the sportsman or naturalist should not be over fatigued and should keep his nerves steady, as at times his life or that of his companions may rest upon the ability to be true in his aim at some dangerous beast about to charge and strike him down.”
“Humph! Yes. That’s quite true, boys. A man can’t shoot straight when he’s pumped out with too much exertion. I have missed horribly sometimes after a long day’s tramp seeing nothing worth shooting at; and then just at the end the birds have risen, or a hare has started up and given me an easy chance, and then got away. There, go on, doctor, and don’t let me check you with my chatter.”
“Oh, I have not much more to say, sir,” was the reply.