Revised Edition

The search for treasure has brought many to a bad end, and we shall go to swell their number.

Found!

Messengers had come from the King

I lit the last remaining match

Eye-glasses do not go well with leopard-skin cloaks and black ostrich plumes.

It is Foulata's voice! 'Oh, Bougwan! help! help!'

This wicked old creature pouring out supplications, evil ones, no doubt, to the arch enemy of mankind

Commenced with slow and painful steps to struggle up the sloping sides of the great pit

Struggled on all day

'Hee! hee! white men,' sniggered Gagool... 'what did I tell you?'

He consented to draw up his trousers to the knee

Sketch map of the route to King Solomon's Mines.

'There it is!' Cried the dying man in Portuguese... 'But I shall never reach it, never'

I never saw a finer native

'Did you happen to meet a man called Neville there?'

Gagool the wise and terrible woman

With a wild yell Gagool’s horrid ministers broke away in every direction

Sir Henry watched the desperate struggle with a kindling eye

The female form… was of great though severe beauty

I saw Neville's wagon move off. Presently Jim came back running

I caught him by the arm and pulled him down

Grow dark O Moon! Withdraw thy light, thou pure and holy one!’

The royal salute of 'Koom!'

Cut on one of these pillars we discovered the rude likeness of a mummy

Our great Englishman gathered himself together and... hit him with all his force

In another second we were all down on our stomachs sucking up the uninviting fluid

'Thank God!' he said, with a sigh of relief, 'it is not my brother'

Good sprang up with a profane exclamation

Food, too, was ready for us

To and fro swung the surging mass of struggling, stabbing humanity

'Greeting! …the Lion’s greeting to the jackals that snarl around his heels!'

Eddying here and there, coming forward, falling back

'Hush-h-h-h!' Came from the patch of dark shadow behind Good’s head.

Fac-similie of the Map of Route to King Solomon's Mines, now in possession of Allan Quatermain, Esq., Drawn by the Dom José da Silvestra, in his own blood, upon a fragment of linen, in the year 1590. (For Translation, see pp. 20-22.)