both from the land and the waterside, and we had other things
to attend to. Myself, considering the matter by the light of what we
afterwards saw, I believe that it was fashioned by man, but whether or
not this is so, there it stands, and sullenly stares from age to age out
across the changing sea--there it stood two thousand years and more
ago, when Amenartas, the Egyptian princess, and the wife of Leo's remote
ancestor Kallikrates, gazed upon its devilish face--and there I have no
doubt it will still stand when as many centuries as are numbered between
her day and our own are added to the year that bore us to oblivion.

"What do you think of that, Job?" I asked of our retainer, who was
sitting on the edge of the boat, trying to get as much sunshine as
possible, and generally looking uncommonly wretched, and I pointed to
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."

"Well, then," he answered, "the whole thing is true."

"I don't see at all that that follows," I answered. "We knew this head
was here: your father saw it. Very likely it is not the same head that
the writing talks of; or if it is, it proves nothing."

Leo smiled at me in a superior way. "You are an unbelieving Jew, Uncle
Horace," he said. "Those who live will see."

"Exactly