the fiery and demonical head.

"Oh Lord, sir," answered Job, who now perceived the object for the first
time, "I think that the old geneleman must have been sitting for his
portrait on them rocks."

I laughed, and the laugh woke up Leo.

"Hullo," he said, "what's the matter with me? I am all stiff--where is
the dhow? Give me some brandy, please."

"You may be thankful that you are not stiffer, my boy," I answered. "The
dhow is sunk, everybody on board her is drowned with the exception of
us four, and your own life was only saved by a miracle"; and whilst Job,
now that it was light enough, searched about in a locker for the brandy
for which Leo asked, I told him the history of our night's adventure.

"Great Heavens!" he said faintly; "and to think that we should have been
chosen to live through it!"

By this time the brandy was forthcoming, and we all had a good pull at
it, and thankful enough we were for it. Also the sun was beginning to
get strength, and warm our chilled bones, for we had been wet through
for five hours or more.

"Why," said Leo, with a gasp as he put down the brandy bottle, "there
is the head the writing talks of, the 'rock carven like the head of an
Ethiopian.'"

"Yes," I said, "there it is."