When we--or, rather, my father--did hear of him, it was no good that he heard.

He had gone as a cabin-boy on a sailing ship round the Horn.

Then he joined an exploring party through the centre of Patagonia, and then another up in Alaska, and a third to the Aleutian Islands.

After that he went through Central America, and then to Western Africa, the Pacific Islands, India, and a lot of places.

We all know the wisdom of the adage that "A rolling stone gathers no moss"; and certainly, if there be any value in moss, Cousin Rupert will die a poor man.