His uncle had gone out swimming one sunny, winter morning and had never come back.

The old folks on the shore had their way of explaining how the accident had happened,--a fainting spell probably, a clash against the rocks.

The _Dotor_ was still vigorous, but the years do not pass without leaving their footprints.

Some believed that he must have had a struggle with a shark or some other of the carnivorous fish that abound in the Mediterranean waters.

In vain the fishermen guided their skiffs through all the twisting entrances and exits of the waters around the promontory, exploring the gloomy caves and the lower depths of crystalline transparency.