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Facing
them was a great cavernous cleft in the rocks, tinted with a curious
violet hue intermingled with bronze,--and in the strong sunlight these
colors flashed with the brilliancy of jewels, reflecting themselves in
the pale slate-colored sea. By Errington's orders the yacht slackened
speed, and glided along with an almost noiseless motion,--and they were
silent, listening to the dash and drip of water that fell invisibly from
the toppling crags that frowned above, while the breathless heat and
stillness of the air added to the weird solemnity of the scene. They all
rose from their chairs and leaned on the deck-rails, looking, but
uttering no word.
"In one of these islands," said Thelma at last, very softly--"it was
either Seiland or Soroe--they once found the tomb of a great chief.
There was an inscription outside that warned all men to respect it, but
they laughed at the warning and opened the tomb. And they saw, seated in
a stone chair, a skeleton with a gold crown on its head and a great
carved seal in its hand, and at its feet there was a stone casket.


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