A STORY OF BRASSAVOLA DIGBYANA 153 



Messrs. Brown Ponder had lately taken on a new hand — 

 let us call him Sam. This young fellow had been wandering 

 up and down the coast some years, doing any honest work 

 that turned up. Thus he had served in the boat's crew of 

 M. Secard, when that gentleman was collecting orchids in 

 Guiana. The experience had taught him that flowers have 

 value, and he returned from his first visit to the bush, after 

 entering the firm's service, with the announcement of a 

 marvel. We may fancy the report which negro imagination 

 would draw of Brassavola Digbyana. The mysterious fringe 

 did not puzzle Sam at all. It was long enough to serve the 

 purpose of chevaux de frise^ to keep off monkeys and 

 birds ! M. Secard used to give him a dollar apiece for 

 things not to be compared with it ! In short, here was a 

 fortune for the gathering — and what terms would Mr. Brown 

 offer him ^. 



Mr. Brown offered nothing at all. Residents in 

 Honduras are curiously apathetic about orchids even now. 

 I think it may be said that no collector has visited their 

 country, which is the explanation perhaps. Moreover, 

 Mr. Brown well knew the liveliness of the Carib imagina- 

 tion. Sam had met with only one or two belated flowers, 

 which he displayed. But the shapeless little cluster of 

 withered petals was no evidence of beauty — quite the 

 reverse. Everybody cut his jokes upon it. 



It might be supposed that a man would carry his wares 

 to another market under such circumstances. But that is 

 not the Carib way ; it would be a breach of loyalty. Good- 

 naturedly Sam told Mr. Brown that he was a fool, with an 

 adjective for emphasis. They were all adjective fools, he 

 assured them daily. But to treat with a rival could not 

 enter his mind. 



The gang had returned to the bush when young Mr. 

 Ponder came back from Bluefields. His partner mentioned 



