"There's no other way?" I pleaded. "Couldn't I have a native look for
this healing flower for me?"
He shook his head. "It withers soon after it is plucked. You had better
carry a sealed jar of water with you on your tramps."
Resignation came to me with that speech. My own folly had brought me
where I was, and my spirit suddenly rose up to meet the emergency.
"I'll go, 'Crombie," I said. "Thank you for your prescription."