After a while poor Daimur gave up staring blankly at the sea, and taking up his jug of water and his bag of biscuits walked slowly up the shore to a shady place and sat down to eat and drink a portion, for he was nearly dead of hunger and thirst.

He had been sitting there only a few minutes when he heard a strange noise overhead, and looking up he saw a large hawk pursuing a beautiful brown dove. The dove flew this way and that, squeaking piteously, and at last fluttered to the ground at Daimur’s feet, while the hawk swooped down to seize it; but Daimur jumped to his feet, and waving his arms beat it off and it flew away in fright.

When it was gone Daimur turned to look at the brown dove, which was lying quite still on the grass with its eyes closed.

“Poor thing,” thought he, “I wonder if water would revive it,” and he poured out a little in his hand and dropped some of it into the bird’s beak.

In a few seconds the dove opened its eyes, and to Daimur’s surprise spoke.

“Thank you, brave young man,” it said. “You have saved my life, and I cannot tell you how grateful I am. The reason I am so weak is that I am nearly dead of hunger and thirst.”

“Unfortunate creature,” exclaimed Daimur, as he gave it a few drops more of the water, “I have some biscuits which you shall share,” and so saying he proceeded to crumble one of the biscuits, which the dove seemed to hesitate to take.

“Unhappy young man,” it said in a sorrowful voice, “I cannot take your last morsel, for this is the last pure food and fresh water you will ever get while you stay on this island.”

“That may be quite true,” replied Daimur, “but I cannot eat any of it while I feel that another creature is more in need of it than I,” and after some pressing the dove hungrily ate up the biscuit.

When he had finished he was apparently much stronger, and hopped upon Daimur’s knee.

“Look at me,” he said, “and tell me what I am.”

“You are a very beautiful brown dove with a golden crest,” said Daimur.

“I am more than that,” said the dove with a sigh; “I am Cyril, King of the Island of Shells, one of those which surround this Island of Despair, and you, I am sure, are a Prince or a King also, who has been put here to be out of the way.”

“Yes,” answered Daimur, “I am Prince Daimur of the Island of Sunne, and my wicked uncle has sent me here to starve, so that he may be made King in my stead.”

“I thought it was something like that,” said the dove.

“But that is not the worst of it,” he went on. “You are wondering how I came to take the form of a dove. As you can see for yourself, I am enchanted. I was brought here with my wife the Queen and one little daughter, the Princess Maya, who is now seventeen years old. We too were given a bag of food and some water, but naturally I began to search for other food to eat when that was gone.

“I found that all the trees upon this island were fruit trees of different kinds and bore the most tempting and luscious fruits. There was also a well of clear water in the middle of the island, all neatly stoned around, which was fed by a small shallow stream flowing from the hill at the north side. You can imagine my relief. I had no fears of starvation anyway.

“We immediately began eating the fruit, and found it so delicious and satisfying that we threw the biscuits into the sea. What was my alarm in two days’ time to find that I was growing stupid. I could not get enough sleep. The Queen was the same, and as for the Princess, when she was not eating fruit she was sleeping. We thought it must be the sea air, but on the third day we could hardly open our eyes at all, and as soon as we had eaten some fruit for breakfast we fell sound asleep, and when I woke I looked around in vain for my wife and little daughter.

“They were nowhere to be seen. Only beside me were a grey dove and a white one sitting on a branch sound asleep. Then on looking down I saw that I too was sitting on the branch, and that I was a brown dove, and I knew immediately that this was the work of the Evil Magician of Despair, and that it was through eating the charmed fruit that we had become changed into birds.

“It was not long before we found that there were many others here, who like ourselves had been sent out of their country. And to make it more horrible I discovered that the longer they stayed and the more fruit they ate the more stupid they became. Some of the older ones could not remember anything at all, and did nothing all day long but eat, drink and sleep.

“I do not eat more than will keep me alive, and I try to keep the Queen and our daughter from eating much too, knowing that we also are in danger of losing our minds. I have gone about imploring the others on the island to be careful, in hope of our being at some future time able to escape, but to very little purpose. Of course they must eat the fruit or starve, and most of them prefer losing their minds to going hungry.”

Prince Daimur listened to the tale with a shiver, for he did not in the least want to be enchanted and lose his mind.

“Have you ever seen the Magician?” he asked after a pause. “I have been told he knows many secrets of chemistry.”

“No,” answered the dove. “We have never seen him. We feel that he is coming sometimes by the great wind that goes sweeping by, but as it is always coming and going in the path to the shore I think he must go back and forth a great deal from this island to some of the others. We know that he has a house on the hill on the north side somewhere, but have never been able to get close enough to see it, as the wind is always so strong around the hill that we cannot fly against it.”

Now all this talk of wind made Daimur think of the day he had found the Good Old Man of Sunne in his cottage with the door blown in, and when he put his hand in his bosom, there safe and sound was his little case with his cap, spectacles and key, which in his distress he had entirely forgotten.

He opened the case and putting on the spectacles looked at the dove.

What he saw before him was not a dove, but a tall, splendid looking man, very thin, with a sad, pale face. He was clad in a rich suit of brown velvet, and wore a gold crown on his head, and he looked at Daimur in some surprise as the Prince next drew on the cap.

Now he knew all things. He knew that the Magician had been called away suddenly by his uncle, and that his uncle intended to have the Magician construct some tale whereby he could make the people believe that Daimur had died a natural death.

He turned to the dove, or King Cyril, as he really was, and said:

“You may think it strange for me to put on these articles at this particular time, but by them I am enabled to see and to know all things, and I must ask you to swear that you will tell no one I have them, for the Evil Magician is looking for these very treasures, and their possession would make him a hundredfold stronger than he is.

“I am able through this cap to know that he is now at Sunne with my wicked uncle, and will not be back until to-morrow night, so come, let us walk about, and I will look for something to eat besides this enchanted fruit.”

King Cyril promised solemnly that he would tell no one about Daimur’s treasures, not even the Queen, for fear he should be overheard, and then they set forth on their way. King Cyril flying slowly in front and giving Daimur time to look about.