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.

The casket was broken open, and it was full of gold and jewels.