Pray for my soul.

Farewell.
Jose da Silvestra."[2] When I had finished reading the above, and shown the copy of the map, drawn by the dying hand of the old Dom with his blood for ink, there followed a silence of astonishment.
"Well," said Captain Good, "I have been round the world twice, and put in at most ports, but may I be hung for a mutineer if ever I heard a yarn like this out of a story book, or in it either, for the matter of that." "It's a queer tale, Mr.Quatermain," said Sir Henry.

"I suppose you are not hoaxing us?
It is, I know, sometimes thought allowable to take in a greenhorn." "If you think that, Sir Henry," I said, much put out, and pocketing my paper--for I do not like to be thought one of those silly fellows who consider it witty to tell lies, and who are for ever boasting to newcomers of extraordinary hunting adventures which never happened--"if you think that, why, there is an end to the matter," and I rose to go.
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.