When the poet Keats and his fat friend, Cortez, were doing some exploring work abroad on behalf of the Royal Society, a curious incident took place on the top of a mountain. Stout Cortez had been moody all day, and complained bitterly about his boots during the stiffer part of the climb. When the summit was reached he started looking about him through his glasses. Keats, who was tired, and wanted a smoke, casually tapped the explorer on the arm and asked for a match. He got no reply of any kind. The poet turned with a shrugging gesture to his friend, Chapman,
‘Must be huffed,’ Chapman remarked.
‘In a pique in Darien, in fact,’ Keats said.