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 ashore to poke among exciting ruins and buy queer things in the bazaar; especially if you are only seven and would like very much to be doing it yourself. So Fen did give a little sigh—though it was a very patient one.

The big steam-yacht lay motionless at anchor, with only the faint ripple of the sluggish current about her bows to break the silence of the hot mid-afternoon. Fen was lost in wondering what it would be like to go down into the dark, mysterious tomb of an ancient Egyptian king, when a slight, sharp sound at the yacht's side brought him back with a start from the place of his imagination to the heat and the blazing sunlight. In a moment more he became aware of a Head, which was calmly contemplating him over the rail. It was quite a nice Head—dark haired, bronzed by sun and salt air, clean-shaven, with a whimsical mouth, and gray eyes 4