"It all seems like a dream," I answered him, "and I cannot tell. But I must have been several months in the crater perhaps a year. Since then I cannot have wandered long."
"Well, then," he questioned, "what month and year was it that you went to Walfisch Bay, and found Inyati?"
"In 1860," I said; "I landed there in November, 1860. What is it now?"
"Good God, man," he exclaimed, "you must be mistaken. Are you sure it was 1860?"
"Sure," I repeated, "November, 1860; and it was some time in the following May that I lost Inyati May, 1861. Last year, was it?"
"Last year! Last year!" he repeated as though dazed in fact I could see that he was absolutely frightened. "Why man, what you tell me is incredible impossible! If it were true, you have slept for nearly forty years. For it is now 1900."
And now it was my turn to be amazed, for truly what he had told me was incredible . . . surely he must be mad himself!
But he went to the door and called the little Portuguese doctor, who had also been kindness itself to me.
"Aha," he said as he looked me over and felt my pulse, "now you are well and have sense again, eh? That is good, it is good that you are strong very strong never have I see so strong a man never! And if you have not been strong, you would die, for your head it was quite mad!"
"Look here, Doctor Santos," said the Consul, "our friend has forgotten a lot of what has happened to him, . . there is a long period about which his mind is a blank months in fact years!"