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 at all see 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 so,’ I answered, ‘and now perhaps you will observe that we are drifting across a sandbank into the mouth of the river. Get hold of your oar, Job, and we will row in and see if we can find a place to land.’
The river mouth which we were entering did not appear to be a very wide one, though as yet the long banks of steaming mist that clung about its shores had not lifted sufficiently to enable us to see its exact measure. There was, as is the case with nearly every East African river, a considerable bar at the mouth, which, no doubt, when the wind was on shore and the tide running out, was absolutely impassable even for a boat drawing only a few inches. But as things were it was manageable enough, and we did not ship a cupful of water. In twenty minutes we were well across it, with but slight assistance from ourselves, and being carried by a strong though somewhat variable breeze well up the harbour. By this time the mist was being sucked up by the sun, which was getting uncomfortably hot, and we saw that the mouth of the little estuary was here about half a mile across, and that the banks were very marshy, and crowded with crocodiles lying about on the mud like logs. About a mile ahead of us, however, was what appeared to be a strip of firm land, and for this we steered. In another quarter of an hour we were there, and making the boat fast to a beautiful tree with broad shining leaves, and flowers of the magnolia species, only they were rose-coloured and not white,[1] which hung over the water, we disembarked. This done we undressed, washed ourselves, and
- ↑ There is a known species of magnolia with pink flowers. It is indigenous in Sikkim, and known as Magnolia Campbellii.—Editor.
