I hurried over to where he was. There was no doubt about it. He had made a discovery. On a grassy knoll, not far from the water’s edge, was a small structure like a tomb, built of rough stones to the height of a man’s breast, and about five feet in diameter. It looked old, was moss grown, and covered with a heavy cap stone. We felt convinced that in this cairn was concealed some important secret, and that it was undoubtedly the place referred to. We went immediately to work to remove the upper stone, which we found quite difficult, but by working an iron wedge which we secured from the air ship, it slowly yielded to our endeavors. The stones were closely knitted together, having been set in a rough mortar, made out of some tenacious kind of mud, but we gradually worked them loose, and one by one rolled them on the ground. In half an hour we had an opening large enough to look into. It was dark, but Torrence leaned over the edge and groped about with his hands. Presently he was tugging at something and exclaimed: "I believe I’ve got it." A minute later he pulled out an iron box by a ring in the lid. It was covered with rust, and had a keyhole but no key. We shook it gently. There was something inside, and we tried to raise the lid; but it was immovable. I proposed to pound it open if possible with some of the stones at our feet, but before doing so, we decided to examine the crevices of the cairn for a key. It was well we did, for our search was rewarded by the discovery of an old brass key, covered with green oxide. We polished it up with some sand, but before it would open the box we had to go to the air ship after a little oil to lubricate the chambers. At last we were successful, and turning back the lid looked in; but I drew back with horror at the first glance, for directly under my eyes was the rough, though strongly executed picture of a madman. It was one of those crude, intense drawings that gives the immediate impression of lifelikeness. Old and stained as the picture was, it was evident that the artist had seized upon the most salient features of his subject, and reproduced them with terrible effect. It was the simplest sketch imaginable, but the wild and painful glare of the eyes was intensified by a reddish brown scar. which ran down the middle of the forehead. Directly under this picture, which, by the by, was done upon a piece of old cloth, was this extraordinary inscription [Illustration: Inscription]