“Did I not tell you that the gods were with us?  Where is your faith, O White Man!  Look!  They have brought me back to the land of which I am Prince.”

Now there was that in Kari’s tone which in my weak state angered me.  Why did he scold me about faith?  Why did he address me as “White Man” instead of “Master”?  Was it because he had reached a country where he was great and I was nothing?  I supposed so, and answered;

“And are these your subjects, O noble Kari?” and I pointed to the crawling turtles.  “And is this the rich and wondrous land where gold and silver are as mud?” and I pointed to the barren rocks and sand around.

He smiled at my jest, and answered more humbly: 

“Nay, Master, yonder is my land.”

Then I looked, following his glance, and saw many leagues way across the water two snowclad peaks rising above a bank of clouds.

“I know those mountains,” he went on; “without doubt they are one of the gateways of my land.”

“Then we might as well be in London for all the hope we have of passing that gate, Kari.  But tell me what has chanced.”

“This, I think.  A very great wave caught us and threw us right over those rocks on to the shore.  Look—­there is the balsa,” and he pointed to a broken heap of reeds and pierced skins.

With his help I rose and went to it.  Now none could know that it had been a boat.  Still, the balsa it was and nothing else, and tied in its tangled mass still remained those things which we had brought with us, such as my black bow and armour, though all the jars were broken.

“It has borne us well, but will never bear us again,” I said.

“That is so, Master.  But if we were in my own country yonder I would set its fragments in a case of gold and place them in the Temple of the Sun as a memorial.”

Then we went to a pool of rainwater that lay in a hollow rock near by, and drank our fill, for we were very thirsty.  Also among the ruins of the balsa we found some of the dried fish that was left to us, and having washed it, filled ourselves.  After this we limped to the crest of the land behind and perceived that we were on a little island, perhaps two hundred English acres in extent, whereon nothing grew except some coarse grass.  This island, however, was the haunt of great numbers of seafowl which nested there, also of the turtles that I have mentioned, and of certain beasts like seals or otters.

“At least we shall not starve,” I said, “though in the dry season we may die of thirst.”