The tattooed chieftain bowed himself to the ground when he saw Ibrahim. But when the Persian spoke a few words in the Gondo language, the old fellow was so delighted that he danced about and shouted like a good fellow. “The Gondos want rain. Their fields are dry, the crops are spoiling. Tell them I will cause the rain to come.” Max spoke in English and Ibrahim translated into the Gondo language. The chief ordered the girls to play the cymbals and the drums to be beaten. All the people gathered together, and Max raised his hands above his head as if in the act of supplicating. Almost immediately a few drops of rain fell, and the people were delighted. The drops became larger and more numerous, until a good, healthy shower descended, and the Gondos were frantic with joy. Even Ibrahim was excited. “How did you do it?” he asked, earnestly, when Max had pleaded for permission to return to their house. “You silly fellow, I did nothing. It was all hocus-pocus on my part.” “But the rain----” “Came; of course it did. I saw that we were in for a shower, and I meant to get the credit of it; that is all there is to it.” Max was a weather prophet. He had a better knowledge of meteorology than many a so-called expert, and he saw clear indications that a rain-cloud was gathering. The one happy chance of his life had come. It was a miracle, at least so thought the Gondos, and nothing was too good for Ibrahim and Max. But even among those primitive people there were skeptics, and a long discussion took place as to the powers possessed by Max. Ibrahim heard the discussion, and returned to the madcap, his face white as death. “You are to be taken to some high rock and ordered to jump down. If you fail your character is gone.” “And life, too. Never mind. Get me some giant palm leaves, and I’ll not be afraid.” Ibrahim obeyed without question, and when on the following morning Max and the Persian were conducted by the tribe to a steep cliff, Max laughed heartily. But when he looked over, he saw that he had a thousand chances against him, and naturally felt nervous. “Tell them,” he said, in English, to Ibrahim, “that to jump off there would be no test. Anyone could do it.” “Of course they could, but they would be killed.” “Don’t say that, but say that I will go to the top of yonder palm and leap from it.” The palm was a tall one, the trunk slender and easily climbed, but the height was such that to jump from the top meant death. The offer made by Max was accepted, and the young madcap began his perilous ascent. When near the top he stood on the stem of one of the monster leaves, and rested a moment. From under his coat he took two palm leaves which he had succeeded in joining together. Opening them above his head, he held his breath and jumped.