Mortimer R. Guilfogle?

He was sure that if he were already out on the Great Traveling
he would be able to "push the buzzer on himself and get up his
nerve." But he did not know where to go. He had planned so many
trips these years that now he couldn't keep any one of them
finally decided on for more than an hour. It rather stretched
his short arms to embrace at once a gay old dream of seeing
Venice and the stern civic duty of hunting abominably dangerous
beasts in the Guatemala bush.

The expense bothered him, too. He had through many years so
persistently saved money for the Great Traveling that he
begrudged money for that Traveling itself. Indeed, he planned
to spend not more than $300 of the $1,235.80 he had now
accumulated, on his first venture, during which he hoped to
learn the trade of wandering.

He was always influenced by a sentence he had read somewhere
about "one of those globe-trotters you meet carrying a
monkey-wrench in Calcutta, then in raiment and a monocle at the
Athenaeum." He would learn some Kiplingy trade that would teach
him the use of astonishingly technical tools, also daring and
the location of smugglers' haunts, copra islands, and
whaling-stations with curious names.

He pictured himself shipping as third engineer at the Manihiki
Islands or engaged for taking moving pictures of an aeroplane
flight in Algiers. He _had_ to get away from Zappism. He had to
be out on the iron seas, where the battle-ships and liners went