"It was given to me by a man I once
befriended, together with the parchment you have just read. How he came
by it I need not say. The man is dead, and I trust his sins are
forgiven him. But I know he would not lie to me, not willingly."
"It seems a wild goose chase," I said, although my doubts were rapidly
dissolving under the witchery of Hartog's sanguine temperament.
"So did our last voyage," answered Hartog. "Yet every word that was
written upon the paper that guided us was true. And why should we
presume that men would give so much labour to preparing these charts
and manuscripts in order to perpetuate lies?"
I could not but admit this. The ability to make these drawings, and to
inscribe these manuscripts, I knew was confined to a very few, who were
mostly men of truth and honour. Such accounts as were available of the
wonderful voyages of Marco Polo I had read with avidity, and I saw no
reason to doubt the assertions of this brave and learned man.
"What do you propose, then?" I asked Hartog, although in my own mind, I
knew the old sea-dog was impatient to be off on a new treasure-hunt.
"What else can I do, Peter?" replied Hartog, "than take ship for this
place? I could never rest content, nor would you either, with the
thought of these Ruby Mountains still unexplored.
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