Sir Henry laid his large hand upon my shoulder. “Sit down, Mr. Quatermain,” he said, “I beg your pardon; I see very well you do not wish to deceive us, but the story sounded so strange that I could hardly believe it.”
“You shall see the original map and writing when we reach Durban,” I answered, somewhat mollified, for really when I came to consider the question it was scarcely wonderful that he should doubt my good faith.
“But,” I went on, “I have not told you about your brother. I knew the man Jim who was with him. He was a Bechuana by birth, a good hunter, and for a native a very clever man. That morning on which Mr. Neville was starting I saw Jim standing by my wagon and cutting up tobacco on the disselboom.
“‘Jim,’ said I, ‘where are you off to this trip? It is elephants?’
“‘No, Baas,’ he answered, ‘we are after something worth much more than ivory.’
“‘And what might that be?’ I said, for I was curious. ‘Is it gold?’
“‘No, Baas, something worth more than gold,’ and he grinned.
“I asked no more questions, for I did not like to lower my dignity by seeming inquisitive, but I was puzzled. Presently Jim finished cutting his tobacco.
“‘Baas,’ said he.
“I took no notice.
“‘Baas,’ said he again.
“‘Eh, boy, what is it?’ I asked.
“‘Baas, we are going after diamonds.’
“‘Diamonds! why, then, you are steering in the wrong direction; you should head for the Fields.’
“‘Baas, have you ever heard of Suliman’s Berg?’–that is, Solomon’s Mountains, Sir Henry.
“‘Ay!’
“‘Have you ever heard of the diamonds there?’
“‘I have heard a foolish story, Jim.’
“‘It is no story, Baas. Once I knew a woman who came from there, and reached Natal with her child, she told me:–she is dead now.’
“‘Your master will feed the assvogels’–that is, vultures–‘Jim, if he tries to reach Suliman’s country, and so will you if they can get any pickings off your worthless old carcass,’ said I.
“He grinned. ‘Mayhap, Baas. Man must die; I’d rather like to try a new country myself; the elephants are getting worked out about here.’
“‘Ah! my boy,’ I said, ‘you wait till the “pale old man” gets a grip of your yellow throat, and then we shall hear what sort of a tune you sing.’
“Half an hour after that I saw Neville’s wagon move off. Presently Jim came back running. ‘Good-bye, Baas,’ he said. ‘I didn’t like to start without bidding you good-bye, for I daresay you are right, and that we shall never trek south again.’
“‘Is your master really going to Suliman’s Berg, Jim, or are you lying?’
“‘No,’ he answered, ‘he is going. He told me he was bound to make his fortune somehow, or try to; so he might as well have a fling for the diamonds.’
“‘Oh!’ I said; ‘wait a bit, Jim; will you take a note to your master, Jim, and promise not to give it to him till you reach Inyati?’ which was some hundred miles off.
“‘Yes, Baas.’
“So I took a scrap of paper, and wrote on it, ‘Let him who comes . . . climb the snow of Sheba’s left breast, till he reaches the nipple, on the north side of which is Solomon’s great road.’
“‘Now, Jim,’ I said, ‘when you give this to your master, tell him he had better follow the advice on it implicitly. You are not to give it to him now, because I don’t want him back asking me questions which I won’t answer. Now be off, you idle fellow, the wagon is nearly out of sight.’
“Jim took the note and went, and that is all I know about your brother, Sir Henry; but I am much afraid–”
“Mr. Quatermain,” said Sir Henry, “I am going to look for my brother; I am going to trace him to Suliman’s Mountains, and over them if necessary, till I find him, or until I know that he is dead. Will you come with me?”
I am, as I think I have said, a cautious man, indeed a timid one, and this suggestion frightened me. It seemed to me that to undertake such a journey would be to go to certain death, and putting other considerations aside, as I had a son to support, I could not afford to die just then.