“‘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.
“No, thank you, Sir Henry, I think I had rather
not,” I answered. “I am too old for
wild-goose chases of that sort, and we should only
end up like my poor friend Silvestre. I have
a son dependent on me, so I cannot afford to risk
my life foolishly.”
Both Sir Henry and Captain Good looked very disappointed.
“Mr. Quatermain,” said the former, “I
am well off, and I am bent upon this business.
You may put the remuneration for your services at
whatever figure you like in reason, and it shall be
paid over to you before we start. Moreover, I
will arrange in the event of anything untoward happening
to us or to you, that your son shall be suitably provided
for. You will see from this offer how necessary
I think your presence. Also if by chance we should
reach this place, and find diamonds, they shall belong
to you and Good equally. I do not want them.
But of course that promise is worth nothing at all,
though the same thing would apply to any ivory we
might get. You may pretty well make your own
terms with me, Mr. Quatermain; and of course I shall
pay all expenses.”
“Sir Henry,” said I, “this is the
most liberal proposal I ever had, and one not to be
sneezed at by a poor hunter and trader. But the
job is the biggest I have come across, and I must
take time to think it over. I will give you my
answer before we get to Durban.”
“Very good,” answered Sir Henry.
Then I said good-night and turned in, and dreamt about
poor long-dead Silvestre and the diamonds.
UMBOPA ENTERS OUR SERVICE
