our clothes as well as you
can, and then, in spite of being soaked with the sea-water, go down and
have a quick plunge, and then walk or run about till you are dry."

The advice seemed so droll, that now the danger was past the lad
laughed, but he saw that Yussuf was doing precisely what the professor
advised, and, weakly and shivering a good deal, he did the same.

Freed by the evident lack of anything to apprehend about the lad for the
present, the professor turned to Mr Burne, whom he had been helping for
some hours to cling to the boat, and had sustained with a few whispered
words of encouragement in his feeblest moments.

The old man was lying in the sunshine just as he had sunk down upon his
back, apparently too much exhausted to move, but as the professor went
down on one knee by his side he opened his eyes.

"Not dead yet, Preston," he said smiling. "I say, don't laugh at me."

"Laugh at you, my dear sir?"

"For being such an old goose as to come upon such a journey. Oh, my
back!"

"Come, come, it was an accident."

"Accident, eh? I say, we'll prosecute those murdering thieves of Greeks
for this."

"One of them has met his punishment already," said the professor, "and
Yussuf has severely wounded another."

"Yes. I was pretty well done then, but I saw him shoot that scoundrel.
I believe the heathen dog was going to shove us off."

"There is no doubt about that," said the professor.

"But Yussuf? don't you think he was in league with the murderous
rascals?"

"Yussuf? My dear sir!"

"Humph! No! He couldn't have been, could he, or he wouldn't have
fought for us as he did at first, and then shot that scoundrel yonder?
I hope his bandage will come off, and he'll bleed to death."

"No, you do not," said the professor.

"Oh, yes, I do--a dog!"

"No, you do not; and as to Yussuf--well, I need not defend him."

"Well, I suppose not. Boy seems to be all right, don't he?"

"Yes, I think so. This warm sunshine is a blessing."

"Hah, yes, but I'm so stiff and sore I cannot move. Preston, my dear
boy, would you mind putting your hand into my pocket and taking out my
snuff-box. I suppose it's all paste, but a bit of that would be, like
your sunshine, a blessing. It's all very well, but I'd rather have a
fire, a towel, a warm bath, and some dry clothes. Hah, yes! Thank you.
Now for some paste."

He thrust the little box in and out among the dry sand till the moisture
was all gone, and doi