of these dangerous guests, which lived in great
numbers in the neighbouring cliffs. Not even the poorest crops would
grow in soil so hostile to life, and those who chose it for a home were
compelled to bring even the drinking-water from the continent.

This desert, around which hovered gulls, sea-swallows, and sea-eagles,
had been for several weeks the abode of the fugitives, Dion and Barine.
They still occupied the two rooms which had been assigned to them on
their arrival. During the day the sun beat fiercely down upon the yellow
chalky rock. There was no shade save in the house and at the foot of
a towering cliff in the southern part of the island, the fishermen's
watch-tower.

There were no works of human hands save a little Temple of Poseidon, an
altar of Isis, the large house owned by Pyrrhus, solidly constructed by
Alexandrian masons, and a smaller one for the freedman's married sons
and their families. A long wooden frame, on which nets were strung to
dry, rose on the shore. Near it, towards the north, in the open sea, was
the anchorage of the larger sea-going ships and the various skiffs and
boats of the fisher folk. Dionikos, Pyrrhus's youngest son, who was
still unmarried, built new boats and repaired the old ones.

His two strong, taciturn brothers, with their wives and children, his
father Pyrrhus, his wife and their youngest child, a daughter, Dione,
a few dogs, cats, and chickens, composed the population of the Serpent
Island.

Such were the surroundings of the newly wedded pair, who had been reared
in the capital. At first many things were strange to them, but they
accommodated themselves to circumstances with a good grace, and both had
admitted to each other, long before, that life had never been so equable
and peaceful.

During the first week Dion's wound and fever still harassed him, but
the prediction of Pyrrhus that the pure, fresh sea-air would benefit the
sufferer had been fulfilled, and the monotonous days had passed swiftly
enough to the young bride in caring for the invalid.

The wife of Pyrrhus--"mother," as they all called her--had proved to be
a skilful nurse, and her daughters-in-law and young Dione were faithful
and nimble assistants. During the time of anxiety and nursing, Barine
had formed a warm friendship for them. If the taciturn men avoided using
a single unnecessary word, the women were all the more ready to gossip;
and it was a pleasure to talk to pretty Dione, who had grown