heard
that Vesuvius was pouring forth lava, and where they could see the lurid
glare of its flames reddening the evening sky. They were saved. My
mission was fulfilled."

Paz stopped; but Leo was unsatisfied.

"And what became of them? Did they ever go home again? Were their father
and mother killed?"

"No; their parents escaped, but their home was buried in ashes. The
children were cared for by the English lady until it was safe to return.
All that was left them was the one poor donkey which, unharmed, strayed
back to the place of its past abode, and with it they began a trade in
lava which proved very remunerative."

"Trade in lava?" repeated Leo, inquisitively.

"Yes; the people pour melted lava in moulds before it cools, and so
fashion ornaments out of it--perhaps they also carve it. I know they
color it beautifully, for I have had to carry bracelets made of it to
various people with whom we are on friendly terms, and they were blue as
a bird's egg or turquoise."

"How curious!"

"No; they were not remarkable, not half as singular as coral
formations."

"What are they?"

"Don't tell me you know nothing of coral!"

"I believe I have seen it, but that is all."

"Coral is made by wonderful little animals who live and die in its cells
until their structures are big enough for islands; but I will leave that
to Knops: my plan is not to cram."

CHAPTER X

"Well," said Leo, "you are not going to stop, I hope."

"Oh no," said Paz, cheerfully, "I can spin yarns with any sailor. What
will you have now?"

"Something funny."

"I wish I could oblige you, but fun is not my strong point. I went from
Greenland to the South Seas one day in search of a laugh, but I failed
to find it; indeed I came near doing worse, for in getting into the hoop
of a native's nose-ring for a swing--just by way of a new sensation--I
forgot to make myself invisible, and he caught me, thought I was a
spider, and would have crushed me, had not a baby put out its little
hands in glee to play with me. I can assure you I was for a time averse
to trying new sensations."

"How did you get out of your scrape?"

"I travelled down that baby's back in a hurry, and hid in an ant-hill;
he poked about with his little black fingers for a quarter of an hour,
but he did not find me. Ah, those were the days of my youth!"

"Do you ever have anything to do with witches?"

"Mark my words, ghosts and witches live only in the imagination of s