CHAPTER I
THE CONSUL 0
’S YARN A week had passed since the funeral of
Harry 1
, and one evening
I 2
was in
walking up and down and thinking , when there was a ring at the outer door .
Going down
the steps 4
I 2
opened it
myself 2
, and in came
Sir Henry Curtis 6
and
Captain John Good , RN 7
.
They 5
entered
the vestibule 8
and sat
themselves 5
down before the wide hearth , where ,
I 2
remember , a particularly good fire of logs was burning .
‘ It is very kind of
you 5
to come round , ’
I 2
said by way of making a remark ; ‘ it must have been heavy walking in the snow . ’
They 5
said nothing , but
Sir Henry 6
slowly filled
his 6
pipe and lit it with a burning ember .
As
he 6
leant forward to do so the fire got hold of a gassy bit of pine and flared up brightly , throwing the whole scene into strong relief , and
I 2
thought , What
a splendid-looking man 6
he 6
is !
Calm , powerful face , clear-cut features , large grey eyes , yellow beard and hair -- altogether
a magnificent specimen of the higher type of humanity 6
.
Nor did
his 6
form belie
his 6
face .
I 2
have never seen wider shoulders or a deeper chest .
Indeed ,
Sir Henry 6
’s girth is so great that , though
he 6
is six feet two high ,
he 6
does not strike one as
a tall man 9
.
As
I 2
looked at
him 6
I 2
could not help thinking what a curious contrast
my 2
little dried-up self
2 presented to
his 6
grand face and form .
Imagine to
yourself 10
a small , withered , yellow-faced man of sixty-three , with thin hands , large brown eyes , a head of grizzled hair cut short and standing up like a half-worn scrubbing-brush 2
-- total weight in
my 2
clothes , nine stone six -- and
you 11
will get a very fair idea of
Allan Quatermain 2
, commonly called
Hunter Quatermain 2
, or by
the natives 12
‘
Macumazahn 2
’ -- Anglicè ,
he 2
who keeps a bright look-out at night , or , in vulgar English ,
a sharp fellow who is not to be taken in 2
.
Then there was
Good 7
, who is not like either of
us 13
, being short , dark , stout -- _ very _ stout -- with twinkling black eyes , in one of which an eyeglass is everlastingly fixed .
I 2
say stout , but it is a mild term ;
I 2
regret to state that of late years
Good 7
has been running to fat in a most disgraceful way .
Sir Henry 6
tells
him 7
that it comes from idleness and over-feeding , and
Good 7
does not like it at all , though
he 7
can not deny it .
We 14
sat for a while , and then
I 2
got a match and lit the lamp that stood ready on the table , for the half-light began to grow dreary , as it is apt to do when one has a short week ago buried the hope of one ’s life .
Next ,
I 2
opened a cupboard in the wainscoting and got a bottle of whisky and some tumblers and water .
I 2
always like to do these things for
myself 2
: it is irritating to
me 2
to have
somebody 15
continually at
my 2
elbow , as though
I 2
were
an eighteen-month-old baby 16
.
All this while
Curtis 6
and
Good 7
had been silent , feeling ,
I 2
suppose , that
they 5
had nothing to say that could do
me 2
any good , and content to give
me 2
the comfort of
their 5
presence and unspoken sympathy ; for it was only
their 5
second visit since the funeral .
And it is , by the way , from the _ presence _ of
others 19
that
we 17
really derive support in
our 18
dark hours of grief , and not from
their 19
talk , which often only serves to irritate
us 20
.
Before a bad storm the game always herd together , but they cease their calling .
They 5
sat and smoked and drank whisky and water , and
I 2
stood by the fire also smoking and looking at
them 5
.
At last
I 2
spoke .
‘
Old friends 5
, ’
I 2
said , ‘ how long is it since
we 14
got back from
Kukuanaland 21
? ’
‘ Three years , ’ said
Good 7
.
‘ Why do
you 2
ask ? ’
‘
I 2
ask because
I 2
think that
I 2
have had a long enough spell of civilization .
I 2
am going back to
the veldt 22
. ’
Sir Henry 6
laid
his 6
head back in
his 6
arm-chair and laughed one of
his 6
deep laughs .
‘ How very odd , ’
he 6
said , ‘ eh ,
Good 7
? ’
Good 7
beamed at
me 2
mysteriously through
his 7
eyeglass and murmured , ‘ Yes , odd -- very odd . ’
‘
I 2
do n’t quite understand , ’ said
I 2
, looking from one to the other , for
I 2
dislike mysteries .
‘ Do n’t
you 2
,
old fellow 2
? ’
said
Sir Henry 6
; ‘ then
I 6
will explain .
As
Good 7
and
I 6
were walking up here
we 5
had a talk . ’
‘ If
Good 7
was there
you 5
probably did , ’
I 2
put in sarcastically , for
Good 7
is a great hand at talking .
‘ And what may it have been about ? ’
‘ What do
you 2
think ? ’
asked
Sir Henry 6
.
I 2
shook
my 2
head .
It was not likely that
I 2
should know what
Good 7
might be talking about .
He 7
talks about so many things .
‘ Well , it was about a little plan that
I 6
have formed -- namely , that if
you 2
were willing
we 14
should pack up
our 14
traps and go off to
Africa 23
on another expedition . ’
I 2
fairly jumped at
his 6
words .
‘
You 6
do n’t say so ! ’
I 2
said .
‘ Yes
I 6
do , though , and so does
Good 7
; do n’t
you 7
,
Good 7
? ’
‘ Rather , ’ said
that gentleman 7
.
‘ Listen ,
old fellow 2
, ’ went on
Sir Henry 6
, with considerable animation of manner .
‘
I 6
’m tired of it too , dead-tired of doing nothing more except play
the squire 24
in
a country that is sick of
squires 26
25 .
For a year or more
I 6
have been getting as restless as an old elephant who scents danger .
I 6
am always dreaming of
Kukuanaland 21
and
Gagool 27
and
King Solomon 28
’s Mines
29 .
I 6
can assure
you 2
I 6
have become
the victim of an almost unaccountable craving 46
.
I 6
am sick of shooting pheasants and partridges , and want to have a go at some large game again .
There ,
you 2
know the feeling -- when one has once tasted brandy and water , milk becomes insipid to the palate .
That year
we 14
spent together up in
Kukuanaland 21
seems to
me 6
worth all the other years of
my 6
life put together .
I 6
dare say that
I 6
am
a fool 47
for
my 6
pains , but
I 6
ca n’t help it ;
I 6
long to go , and , what is more ,
I 6
mean to go . ’
He 6
paused , and then went on again .
‘ And , after all , why should
I 6
not go ?
I 6
have
no wife 30
or
parent 31
, no chick or
child 32
to keep
me 6
.
If anything happens to
me 6
the baronetcy will go to
George 33
and
, as it would ultimately do in any case .
I 6
am of no importance to
any one 35
. ’
‘ Ah ! ’
I 2
said , ‘
I 2
thought
you 6
would come to that sooner or later .
And now ,
Good 7
, what is
your 7
reason for wanting to trek ; have
you 7
got one ? ’
‘
I 7
have , ’ said
Good 7
, solemnly .
‘
I 7
never do anything without a reason ; and it is n’t
a lady 36
-- at least , if it is , it ’s several . ’
I 2
looked at
him 7
again .
Good 7
is so overpoweringly frivolous .
‘ What is it ? ’
I 2
said .
‘ Well , if
you 2
really want to know , though
I 7
’d rather not speak of a delicate and strictly personal matter ,
I 7
’ll tell
you 2
:
I 7
’m getting too fat . ’
‘ Shut up ,
Good 7
! ’
said
Sir Henry 6
.
‘ And now ,
Quatermain 2
, tell
us 5
, where do
you 2
propose going to ? ’
I 2
lit
my 2
pipe , which had gone out , before answering .
‘ Have
you people 5
ever heard of
Mt Kenia 37
? ’
I 1
asked .
‘ Do n’t know
the place 37
, ’ said
Good 7
.
‘ Did
you 5
ever hear of the
Island of Lamu 38
? ’
I 2
asked again .
‘ No .
Stop , though -- is n’t
it 38
a place about 300 miles north of
Zanzibar 39
48 ? ’
‘ Yes .
Now listen .
What
I 2
have to propose is this .
That
we 14
go to
Lamu 38
and thence make
our 14
way about 250 miles inland to
Mt Kenia 37
; from
Mt Kenia 37
on inland to
Mt Lekakisera 40
, another 200 miles , or thereabouts , beyond which
no white man 41
has to the best of
my 2
belief ever been ; and then , if
we 14
get so far , right on into
the unknown interior 42
.
What do
you 5
say to that ,
my 2
hearties ? ’
‘ It ’s a big order , ’ said
Sir Henry 6
, reflectively .
‘
You 6
are right , ’
I 2
answered , ‘ it is ; but
I 2
take it that
we 14
are all three of
us 14
in search of a big order .
We 14
want a change of scene , and
we 14
are likely to get one -- a thorough change .
All
my 2
life
I 2
have longed to visit those parts , and
I 2
mean to do it before
I 2
die .
’s death has broken the last link between
me 2
and civilization , and
I 2
’m off to
.
And now
I 2
’ll tell
you 5
another thing , and that is , that for years and years
I 2
have heard rumours of a great white race which is supposed to have its home somewhere up in this direction , and
I 2
have a mind to see if there is any truth in them .
If
you fellows 5
like to come , well and good ; if not ,
I 2
’ll go alone . ’
‘
I 6
’m
, though
I 6
do n’t believe in
your 2
white race , ’ said
Sir Henry Curtis 6
, rising and placing
his 6
arm upon
my 2
shoulder .
‘ Ditto , ’ remarked
Good 7
.
‘
I 7
’ll go into training at once .
By all means let ’s go to
Mt Kenia 37
and
the other place with an unpronounceable name 40
, and look for a white race that does not exist .
It ’s all one to
me 7
. ’
‘ When do
you 2
propose to start ? ’
asked
Sir Henry 6
.
‘ This day month , ’
I 2
answered , ‘ by
the British India steamboat 44
; and do n’t
you 7
be so certain that things have no existence because
you 7
do not happen to have heard of them .
Remember
! ’
Some fourteen weeks or so had passed since the date of this conversation , and this history goes on its way in very different surroundings .