“Well, what did you think?” asked Mark.
“I thought about that old fellow being so awful old, and that he must have had to do with the building up of them stones.”
“Nonsense! It must be two or three thousand years since those walls were built.”
“Daresay, sir, and he’s been there ever since.”
“Oh, that’s impossible,” said Dean.
“Ah, that’s what you say, sir, but nothing is impossible out in a place like this. Why, just look at him. Why, if you got him out in the sunshine where you could see what a way inside his eyes were, you would have found that he was always looking right backwards. He was a regular old ’un, he was—lots older than he knew hisself. You heard what the doctor said the other day about this being the place where King Solomon sent his ships to find gold?”
“Yes, and it’s quite possible,” said Mark.
“Oh, you own to that, sir?”
“To be sure I do. He had ships built, and sent them round by Africa, or else south down by the Red Sea.”
“Yes, sir, that’s right enough, sir. I have pretty well been both ways myself, and seen plenty of big stones there. Up in North Africa and in Egypt. I should say, sir, that that old chap will like as not been one of them as dug out and melted the gold. He don’t look a bit like the regular natives, do he? He was hook-nosed, wasn’t he, sir?”