Such was all we could utter for some seconds as each clasped and shook the hands of the other.
"Oh, Jack Manly," he exclaimed, in a broken voice, "I would rather see you in your grave than in this place with me!"
"How—why—what do you mean?"
"My poor lad, you know not for what we are reserved."
"Not—not to be killed and eaten?" said I, in a low voice of dismay.
"Oh, worse than that. Do you not know?"
"No."
"My poor friend—my poor friend!"
"What on earth can be worse than that? Amoo told me——"
"Who is Amoo?"