Real Gold: A Story of Adventure

Weak as he still was from his injuries, and smarting from the bitter disappointment of his failure, Colonel Campion seized the first opportunity which occurred of getting a passage up to Panama, the two boys parting with many promises of keeping up a correspondence, which were none too faithfully fulfilled. Perry wrote from Panama, and again from Barbadoes on the way home. Then three years elapsed before Cyril had a letter, though Captain Norton had heard again and again from his friend the colonel.

Here is a portion of the letter Cyril received:

“I don’t suppose they will do it, but I think they ought to make my father F.L.S. and F.R.S. and F.G.S., and all the rest of it, besides knighting him. For only think, in spite of all the disappointment of losing the packages of seed we so carefully made up, the little lots we had in our pockets, including those you gave me at San Geronimo out of yours – I mean that day on board the packet, when you said, ‘You may as well take these, for they’re no use to me – ’ I say, all these were distributed and set, and with the exception of one lot, pretty well all grew, and they have made small plantations in Java, Ceylon, India, and one or two other places, so that in the course of time there’ll be quinine in plenty in hot places all over the world. Which lot do you think it was failed? You, in your modesty, will say your own. Not it, but mine; and I’ll tell you how it was – through my fall down into that horrid place. The seed was of course soaked, and it went off mouldy, I suppose. At all events, none of it grew.”

“Hah!” exclaimed Captain Norton as he heard the letter read. “It was a daring thing to do – a brave soldier’s deed. How many poor wretches in the future who struggle back from some deadly fever will ever hear of or bless his name? Hardly one.”

“But we shall have the satisfaction, father, of knowing that we helped to save them all the same.”

“Right, boy,” cried the captain, bringing his hand heavily down upon his son’s shoulder. “You did your share, and it would be a poor world indeed if we did all our good actions for the sake of the reward.”

“But mine was not a good action, father,” said Cyril gravely.

“Ah, well,” said his father, “it is a matter of the past. I made you a promise then, and we will not argue that.”

The End.