pitched my camp there once for a fortnight. I could find it again.
You go in from Boola Bay, up the Zambesi, and through the jungle. Then
there's the Khula Klaht valley. That's in the Himalayas. Pictures?
Why, you could get 'em there!"

"I've no doubt I could, Sir," says Brooks. "I've dreamed of doing
something like that some day, too. But what's the use?"

"Eh?" says Uncle Jeff, almost standin' up in his excitement. "Why not,
my boy? I could take you there, chair or no chair. Didn't I go in a
litter once, halfway across Africa, when a clumsy Zulu beater let a
dying rhino gore me in the hip? Yes, and bossed a caravan of sixty
men, and me flat on my back! I'm better able to move now than I was
then, too. And I'm ready to try it. Another year of this, and I'd be
under the ground. I'm sick of being cooped up. I'm hungry for a
breath of mountain air, for a glimpse of the old trails. No use taking
my guns; but you could lug along your painting kit, and Edith could
take care of both of us. We could start within a week. What do you
say, you two?"

Brooks he looks over at Edith. "Oh, Uncle Jeff!" says she, her eyes
sparklin'. "I should just love it!"

"I could ask for nothing better," says Brooks.

"Then it's settled," says Uncle Jeff, reachin' out a hand to each of
'em. "Hurrah for the long trail! We're off!"

"Me too," says I, "if that's all."