so."

"Why not?" asked Fernao.

"Chiefly, perhaps, because of tales like that of the Sea of Darkness and
Satan's hand. And it is true that a ship venturing very far westward is
drawn out of its course, as if the earth were not a perfect round, but
sloped upward to the south. My own belief is,"--he seemed for a moment
to forget that he was talking to children, "that it is not perfectly
round, but somewhat like this pear,--" he selected a short chubby pear
from the basket, "and that on this mountain may be a cool and lovely
region which was once Paradise."

"Oh!" cried Beatriz, her face alight with the glory of the thought. The
geographer smiled at her and went on.

"Also you see that the ocean is on this side of the earth very much
greater than the Mediterranean. We do not know how long it would take to
cross it. I have lately received a map from the famous Florentine
Toscanelli which--ah!" he interrupted himself, "here comes our good
friend Master Serrao."

It had taken the pilot longer than he expected to hunt over his relics
of old voyages, and there was nothing, after all, like the piece of wood
cast ashore by the Atlantic waves. Old Sancho turned it over, examined
the edges of the carving, and shook his head.

"No; that is not African work; at least it is not like any work of
the black men that I have ever seen. They can all work iron, and this
was made without the use of iron tools; that I am sure of. Some of our