“When I revived I had several very queer sensations.  The first thing that I noticed was that I hadn’t any whiskers.”

“What! no whiskers?”

“No—­all gone; and my eyebrows and mustache, and every wisp of hair from my head.”

“See here, old fellow, do you mean to say that you’ve only taken one year to grow those infernally long whiskers that you have now?”

“It’s a fact, my boy!”

“I wouldn’t have believed it; but some fellows can do such extraordinary things.  But drive on.”

“Well, the next thing I noticed was that it was as smoky as ever.  Then I jumped up and looked around.  I felt quite dry, though it seemed as if I had just come from the river.  As I jumped up and turned I saw my friend.  She looked much better than she had.  Her clothes also were quite dry.  She greeted me with a mournful smile, and rose up from the trunk of a tree where she had been sitting, and made inquiries after my health with the most earnest and tender sympathy.

“I told her I was all right, laughed about my hair, and inquired very anxiously how she was.  She assured me that she was as well as ever.  Some conversation followed; and then, to my amazement, I found that I had slept for an immense time, or had been unconscious, whichever it was, and that the adventure had taken place on the preceding day.  It was now about the middle of the next day.  You may imagine how confounded I was at that.”

[Illustration:  “ALL GONE; MY EYEBROWS, AND MUSTACHE, AND EVERY WISP OF HAIR FROM MY HEAD.”]

“The air was still abominably close and smoky; so I looked about the island, and found a huge crevice in the rocks, which was almost a cave.  It was close by the water, and was far cooler than outside.  In fact, it was rather comfortable than otherwise.  Here we took refuge, and talked over our situation.  As far as we could see, the whole country was burned up.  A vast cloud of smoke hung over all.  One comfort was that the glow had ceased on the river-bank, and only a blackened forest now remained, with giant trees arising, all blasted.  We found that our stay would be a protracted one.

“The first thing that I thought of was food.  Fortunately I had my hooks and lines; so I cut a pole, and fastening my line to it, I succeeded in catching a few fish.

“We lived there for two days on fish in that manner.  The lady was sad and anxious.  I tried to cheer her up.  Her chief trouble was the fear that her father was lost.  In the course of our conversations I found out that her name was Ethel Orne.”

“Ethel Orne?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t think I ever heard the name before.  Orne?  No, I’m sure I haven’t.  It isn’t Horn?”

“No; Orne—­O R N E. Oh, there’s no trouble about that.