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Ayesha by H. Rider Haggard

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mountains receded, so that above us rose a mighty, dazzling slope of
snow and below us lay that same pitiless, unclimbable gulf. As the
light began to fade we perceived, half a mile or more in front a bare-
topped hillock of rock, which stood on the verge of the precipice, and
hurried to it, thinking that from its crest we might be able to
discover a way of descent.

When at length we had struggled to the top, it was about a hundred and
fifty feet high; what we did discover was that, here also, as beyond
the glacier, the gulf was infinitely deeper than at the spot where the
road ended, so deep indeed that we could not see its bottom, although
from it came the sound of roaring water. Moreover, it was quite half a
mile in width.

Whilst we stared round us the sinking sun vanished behind a mountain
and, the sky being heavy, the light went out like that of a candle.
Now the ascent of this hillock had proved so steep, especially at one
place, where we were obliged to climb a sort of rock ladder, that we
scarcely cared to attempt to struggle down it again in that gloom.
Therefore, remembering that there was little to choose between the top
of this knoll and the snow plain at its foot in the matter of
temperature or other conveniences, and being quite exhausted, we
determined to spend the night upon it, thereby, as we were to learn,
saving our lives.

Unloading the yak, we pitched our tent under the lee of the topmost
knob of rock and ate a couple of handfuls of dried fish and corn-cake.
This was the last of the food that we had brought with us from the
Lamasery, and we reflected with dismay that unless we could shoot
something, our commissariat was now represented by the carcass of our
old friend the yak. Then we wrapped ourselves up in our thick rugs and
fur garments and forgot our miseries in sleep.

It cannot have been long before daylight when we were awakened by a
sudden and terrific sound like the boom of a great cannon, followed by
thousands of other sounds, which might be compared to the fusillade of

"Great Heaven! What is that?" I said.

We crawled from the tent, but as yet could see nothing, whilst the yak
began to low in a terrified manner. But if we could not see we could
hear and feel. The booming and cracking had ceased, and was followed
by a soft, grinding noise, the most sickening sound, I think, to which
I ever listened. This was accompanied by a strange, steady, unnatural
wind, which seemed to press upon us as water presses. Then the dawn
broke and we saw.

The mountain-side was moving down upon us in a vast avalanche of snow.

Oh! what a sight was that. On from the crest of the precipitous slopes
above, two miles and more away, it came, a living thing, rolling,
sliding, gliding; piling itself in long, leaping waves, hollowing
itself into cavernous valleys, like a tempest-driven sea, whilst above
its surface hung a powdery cloud of frozen spray.

As we watched, clinging to each other terrified, the first of these
waves struck our hill, causing the mighty mass of solid rock to quiver
like a yacht beneath the impact of an ocean roller, or an aspen in a
sudden rush of wind. It struck and slowly separated, then with a
majestic motion flowed like water over the edge of the precipice on
either side, and fell with a thudding sound into the unmeasured depths
beneath. And this was but a little thing, a mere forerunner, for after
it, with a slow, serpentine movement, rolled the body of the

It came in combers, it came in level floods. It piled itself against
our hill, yes, to within fifty feet of the head of it, till we thought
that even that rooted rock must be torn from its foundations and
hurled like a pebble to the deeps beneath. And the turmoil of it all!
The screaming of the blast caused by the compression of the air, the
dull, continuous thudding of the fall of millions of tons of snow as
they rushed through space and ended their journey in the gulf.

Nor was this the worst of it, for as the deep snows above thinned,
great boulders that had been buried beneath them, perhaps for
centuries, were loosened from their resting-places and began to
thunder down the hill. At first they moved slowly, throwing up the
hard snow around them as the prow of a ship throws foam. Then
gathering momentum, they sprang into the air with leaps such as those
of shells ricocheting upon water, till in the end, singing and
hurtling, many of them rushed past and even over us to vanish far
beyond. Some indeed struck our little mountain with the force of shot
fired from the great guns of a battle-ship, and shattered there, or if
they fell upon its side, tore away tons of rock and passed with them
into the chasm like a meteor surrounded by its satellites. Indeed, no
bombardment devised and directed by man could have been half so
terrible or, had there been anything to destroy, half so destructive.

The scene was appalling in its unchained and resistless might evolved
suddenly from the completest calm. There in the lap of the quiet
mountains, looked down upon by the peaceful, tender sky, the powers
hidden in the breast of Nature were suddenly set free, and,
companioned by whirlwinds and all the terrifying majesty of sound,
loosed upon the heads of us two human atoms.

At the first rush of snow we had leapt back behind our protecting peak
and, lying at full length upon the ground, gripped it and clung there,
fearing lest the wind should whirl us to the abyss. Long ago our tent
had gone like a dead leaf in an autumn gale, and at times it seemed as
if we must follow.

The boulders hurtled over and past us; one of them, fell full upon the
little peak, shattering its crest and bursting into fragments, which
fled away, each singing its own wild song. We were not touched, but
when we looked behind us it was to see the yak, which had risen in its
terror, lying dead and headless. Then in our fear we lay still,
waiting for the end, and wondering dimly whether we should be buried
in the surging snow or swept away with the hill, or crushed by the
flying rocks, or lifted and lost in the hurricane.

How long did it last? We never knew. It may have been ten minutes or
two hours, for in such a scene time loses its proportion. Only we
became aware that the wind had fallen, while the noise of grinding
snow and hurtling boulders ceased. Very cautiously we gained our feet
and looked.

In front of us was sheer mountain side, for a depth of over two miles,
the width of about a thousand yards, which had been covered with many
feet of snow, was now bare rock. Piled up against the face of our
hill, almost to its summit, lay a tongue of snow, pressed to the
consistency of ice and spotted with boulders that had lodged there.
The peak itself was torn and shattered, so that it revealed great
gleaming surfaces and pits, in which glittered mica, or some other
mineral. The vast gulf behind was half filled with the avalanche and
its debris. But for the rest, it seemed as though nothing had
happened, for the sun shone sweetly overhead and the solemn snows
reflected its rays from the sides of a hundred hills. And we had
endured it all and were still alive; yes, and unhurt.

But what a position was ours! We dared not attempt to descend the
mount, lest we should sink into the loose snow and be buried there.
Moreover, all along the breadth of the path of the avalanche boulders
from time to time still thundered down the rocky slope, and with them
came patches of snow that had been left behind by the big slide, small
in themselves, it is true, but each of them large enough to kill a
hundred men. It was obvious, therefore, that until these conditions
changed, or death released us, we must abide where we were upon the
crest of the hillock.

So there we sat, foodless and frightened, wondering what our old
friend Kou-en would say if he could see us now. By degrees hunger
mastered all our other sensations and we began to turn longing eyes
upon the headless body of the yak.

"Let's skin him," said Leo, "it will be something to do, and we shall
want his hide to-night."

So with affection, and even reverence, we performed this office for
the dead companion of our journeyings, rejoicing the while that it was
not we who had brought him to his end. Indeed, long residence among
peoples who believed fully that the souls of men could pass into, or
were risen from, the bodies of animals, had made us a little
superstitious on this matter. It would be scarcely pleasant, we
reflected, in some future incarnation, to find our faithful friend
clad in human form and to hear him bitterly reproach us for his

Being dead, however, these arguments did not apply to eating him, as we
were sure he would himself acknowledge. So we cut off little bits of his
flesh and, rolling them in snow till they looked as though they were
nicely floured, hunger compelling us, swallowed them at a gulp. It was a
disgusting meal and we felt like cannibals: but what could we do?



Even that day came to an end at last, and after a few more lumps of
yak, our tent being gone, we drew his hide over us and rested as best
we could, knowing that at least we had no more avalanches to fear.
That night it froze sharply, so that had it not been for the yak's
hide and the other rugs and garments, which fortunately we were
wearing when the snow-slide began, it would, I think, have gone hard
with us. As it was, we suffered a great deal.

"Horace," said Leo at the dawn, "I am going to leave this. If we have
to die, I would rather do so moving; but I don't believe that we shall

"Very well," I said, "let us start. If the snow won't bear us now, it
never will."

So we tied up our rugs and the yak's hide in two bundles and, having
cut off some more of the frozen meat, began our descent. Now, although
the mount was under two hundred feet high, its base, fortunately for
us--for otherwise it must have been swept away by the mighty pressure
of the avalanche--was broad, so that there was a long expanse of
piled-up snow between us and the level ground.

Since, owing to the overhanging conformation of the place, it was
quite impossible for us to descend in front where pressure had made
the snow hard as stone, we were obliged to risk a march over the
looser material upon its flank. As there was nothing to be gained by
waiting, off we went, Leo leading and step by step trying the snow. To
our joy we discovered that the sharp night frost had so hardened its
surface that it would support us. About half way down, however, where
the pressure had been less, it became much softer, so that we were
forced to lie upon our faces, which enabled us to distribute our
weight over a larger surface, and thus slither gently down the hill.

All went well until we were within twenty paces of the bottom, where
we must cross a soft mound formed of the powdery dust thrown off by
the avalanche in its rush. Leo slipped over safely, but I, following a
yard or two to his right, of a sudden felt the hard crust yield
beneath me. An ill-judged but quite natural flounder and wriggle, such
as a newly-landed flat-fish gives upon the sand, completed the
mischief, and with one piercing but swiftly stifled yell, I vanished.

Any one who has ever sunk in deep water will know that the sensation
is not pleasant, but I can assure him that to go through the same
experience in soft snow is infinitely worse; mud alone could surpass
its terrors. Down I went, and down, till at length I seemed to reach a
rock which alone saved me from disappearing for ever. Now I felt the
snow closing above me and with it came darkness and a sense of
suffocation. So soft was the drift, however, that before I was
overcome I contrived with my arms to thrust away the powdery dust from
about my head, thus forming a little hollow into which air filtered
slowly. Getting my hands upon the stone, I strove to rise, but could
not, the weight upon me was too great.

Then I abandoned hope and prepared to die. The process proved not
altogether unpleasant. I did not see visions from my past life as
drowning men are supposed to do, but--and this shows how strong was
her empire over me--my mind flew back to Ayesha. I seemed to behold
her and a man at her side, standing over me in some dark, rocky gulf.
She was wrapped in a long travelling cloak, and her lovely eyes were
wild with fear. I rose to salute her, and make report, but she cried
in a fierce, concentrated voice--

"What evil thing has happened here? Thou livest; then where is my lord
Leo? Speak, man, and say where thou hast hid my lord--or die."

The vision was extraordinarily real and vivid, I remember, and,
considered in connection with a certain subsequent event, in all ways
most remarkable, but it passed as swiftly as it came.

Then my senses left me.

I saw a light again. I heard a voice, that of Leo. "Horace," he cried,
"Horace, hold fast to the stock of the rifle." Something was thrust
against my outstretched hand. I gripped it despairingly, and there
came a strain. It was useless, I did not move. Then, bethinking me, I
drew up my legs and by chance or the mercy of Heaven, I know not, got
my feet against a ridge of the rock on which I was lying. Again I felt
the strain, and thrust with all my might. Of a sudden the snow gave,
and out of that hole I shot like a fox from its earth.

I struck something. It was Leo straining at the gun, and I knocked him
backwards. Then down the steep slope we rolled, landing at length upon
the very edge of the precipice. I sat up, drawing in the air with
great gasps, and oh! how sweet it was. My eyes fell upon my hand, and
I saw that the veins stood out on the back of it, black as ink and
large as cords. Clearly I must have been near my end.

"How long was I in there?" I gasped to Leo, who sat at my side, wiping
off the sweat that ran from his face in streams.

"Don't know. Nearly twenty minutes, I should think."

"Twenty minutes! It seemed like twenty centuries. How did you get me
out? You could not stand upon the drift dust."

"No; I lay upon the yak skin where the snow was harder and tunnelled
towards you through the powdery stuff with my hands, for I knew where
you had sunk and it was not far off. At last I saw your finger tips;
they were so blue that for a few seconds I took them for rock, but
thrust the butt of the rifle against them. Luckily you still had life
enough to catch hold of it, and you know the rest. Were we not both
very strong, it could never have been done."

"Thank you, old fellow," I said simply.

"Why should you thank me?" he asked with one of his quick smiles. "Do
you suppose that I wished to continue this journey alone? Come, if you
have got your breath, let us be getting on. You have been sleeping in
a cold bed and want exercise. Look, my rifle is broken and yours is
lost in the snow. Well, it will save us the trouble of carrying the
cartridges," and he laughed drearily.

Then we began our march, heading for the spot where the road ended
four miles or so away, for to go forward seemed useless. In due course
we reached it safely. Once a mass of snow as large as a church swept
down just in front of us, and once a great boulder loosened from the
mountain rushed at us suddenly like an attacking lion, or the stones
thrown by Polyphemus at the ship of Odysseus, and, leaping over our
heads, vanished with an angry scream into the depths beneath. But we
took little heed of these things: our nerves were deadened, and no
danger seemed to affect them.

There was the end of the road, and there were our own footprints and
the impress of the yak's hoofs in the snow. The sight of them affected
me, for it seemed strange that we should have lived to look upon them
again. We stared over the edge of the precipice. Yes, it was sheer and
absolutely unclimbable.

"Come to the glacier," said Leo.

So we went on to it, and scrambling a little way down its root, made
an examination. Here, so far as we could judge, the cliff was about
four hundred feet deep. But whether or no the tongue of ice reached to
the foot of it we were unable to tell, since about two thirds of the
way down it arched inwards, like the end of a bent bow, and the
conformation of the overhanging rocks on either side was such that we
could not see where it terminated. We climbed back again and sat down,
and despair took hold of us, bitter, black despair.

"What are we to do?" I asked. "In front of us death. Behind us death,
for how can we recross those mountains without food or guns to shoot
it with? Here death, for we must sit and starve. We have striven and
failed. Leo, our end is at hand. Only a miracle can save us."

"A miracle," he answered. "Well, what was it that led us to the top of
the mount so that we were able to escape the avalanche? And what was
it which put that rock in your way as you sank into the bed of dust,
and gave me wit and strength to dig you out of your grave of snow? And
what is it that has preserved us through seventeen years of dangers
such as few men have known and lived? Some directing Power. Some
Destiny that will accomplish itself in us. Why should the Power cease
to guide? Why should the Destiny be baulked at last?"

He paused, then added fiercely, "I tell you, Horace, that even if we
had guns, food, and yaks, I would not turn back upon our spoor, since
to do so would prove me a coward and unworthy of her. I will go on."

"How?" I asked.

"By that road," and he pointed to the glacier.

"It is a road to death!"

"Well, if so, Horace, it would seem that in this land men find life in
death, or so they believe. If we die now, we shall die travelling our
path, and in the country where we perish we may be born again. At
least I am determined, so you must choose."

"I have chosen long ago. Leo, we began this journey together and we
will end it together. Perhaps Ayesha knows and will help us," and I
laughed drearily. "If not--come, we are wasting time."

Then we took counsel, and the end of it was that we cut a skin rug and
the yak's tough hide into strips and knotted these together into two
serviceable ropes, which we fastened about our middles, leaving one
end loose, for we thought that they might help us in our descent.

Next we bound fragments of another skin rug about our legs and knees
to protect them from the chafing of the ice and rocks, and for the
same reason put on our thick leather gloves. This done, we took the
remainder of our gear and heavy robes and, having placed stones in
them, threw them over the brink of the precipice, trusting to find
them again, should we ever reach its foot. Now our preparations were
complete, and it was time for us to start upon perhaps one of the most
desperate journeys ever undertaken by men of their own will.

Yet we stayed a little, looking at each other in piteous fashion, for
we could not speak. Only we embraced, and I confess, I think I wept a
little. It all seemed so sad and hopeless, these longings endured
through many years, these perpetual, weary travellings, and now--the
end. I could not bear to think of that splendid man, my ward, my most
dear friend, the companion of my life, who stood before me so full of
beauty and of vigour, but who must within a few short minutes be
turned into a heap of quivering, mangled flesh. For myself it did not
matter. I was old, it was time that I should die. I had lived
innocently, if it were innocent to follow this lovely image, this
Siren of the caves, who lured us on to doom.

No, I don't think that I thought of myself then, but I thought a great
deal of Leo, and when I saw his determined face and flashing eyes as
he nerved himself to the last endeavour, I was proud of him. So in
broken accents I blessed him and wished him well through all the
aeons, praying that I might be his companion to the end of time. In
few words and short he thanked me and gave me back my blessing. Then
he muttered--


So side by side we began the terrible descent. At first it was easy
enough, although a slip would have hurled us to eternity. But we were
strong and skilful, accustomed to such places moreover, and made none.
About a quarter of the way down we paused, standing upon a great
boulder that was embedded in the ice, and, turning round cautiously,
leaned our backs against the glacier and looked about us. Truly it was
a horrible place, almost sheer, nor did we learn much, for beneath us,
a hundred and twenty feet or more, the projecting bend cut off our
view of what lay below.

So, feeling that our nerves would not bear a prolonged contemplation
of that dizzy gulf, once more we set our faces to the ice and
proceeded on the downward climb. Now matters were more difficult, for
the stones were fewer and once or twice we must slide to reach them,
not knowing if we should ever stop again. But the ropes which we threw
over the angles of the rocks, or salient points of ice, letting
ourselves down by their help and drawing them after us when we reached
the next foothold, saved us from disaster.

Thus at length we came to the bend, which was more than half way down
the precipice, being, so far as I could judge, about two hundred and
fifty feet from its lip, and say one hundred and fifty from the
darksome bottom of the narrow gulf. Here were no stones, but only some
rough ice, on which we sat to rest.

"We must look," said Leo presently.

But the question was, how to do this. Indeed, there was only one way,
to hang over the bend and discover what lay below. We read each
other's thought without the need of words, and I made a motion as
though I would start.

"No," said Leo, "I am younger and stronger than you. Come, help me,"
and he began to fasten the end of his rope to a strong, projecting
point of ice. "Now," he said, "hold my ankles."

It seemed an insanity, but there was nothing else to be done, so,
fixing my heels in a niche, I grasped them and slowly he slid forward
till his body vanished to the middle. What he saw does not matter, for
I saw it all afterwards, but what happened was that suddenly all his
great weight came upon my arms with such a jerk that his ankles were
torn from my grip.

Or, who knows! perhaps in my terror I loosed them, obeying the natural
impulse which prompts a man to save his own life. If so, may I be
forgiven, but had I held on, I must have been jerked into the abyss.
Then the rope ran out and remained taut.

"Leo!" I screamed, "Leo!" and I heard a muffled voice saying, as I
thought, "Come." What it really said was--"Don't come." But indeed--
and may it go to my credit--I did not pause to think, but face
outwards, just as I was sitting, began to slide and scramble down the

In two seconds I had reached the curve, in three I was over it.
Beneath was what I can only describe as a great icicle broken off
short, and separated from the cliff by about four yards of space. This
icicle was not more than fifteen feet in length and sloped outwards,
so that my descent was not sheer. Moreover, at the end of it the
trickling of water, or some such accident, had worn away the ice,
leaving a little ledge as broad, perhaps, as a man's hand. There were
roughnesses on the surface below the curve, upon which my clothing
caught, also I gripped them desperately with my fingers. Thus it came
about that I slid down quite gently and, my heels landing upon the
little ledge, remained almost upright, with outstretched arms--like a
person crucified to a cross of ice.

Then I saw everything, and the sight curdled the blood within my
veins. Hanging to the rope, four or five feet below the broken point,
was Leo, out of reach of it, and out of reach of the cliff; as he hung
turning slowly round and round, much as--for in a dreadful,
inconsequent fashion the absurd similarity struck me even then--a
joint turns before the fire. Below yawned the black gulf, and at the
bottom of it, far, far beneath, appeared a faint, white sheet of snow.
That is what I saw.

Think of it! Think of it! I crucified upon the ice, my heels resting
upon a little ledge; my fingers grasping excrescences on which a bird
could scarcely have found a foothold; round and below me dizzy space.
To climb back whence I came was impossible, to stir even was
impossible, since one slip and I must be gone.

And below me, hung like a spider to its cord, Leo turning slowly round
and round!

I could see that rope of green hide stretch beneath his weight and the
double knots in it slip and tighten, and I remember wondering which
would give first, the hide or the knots, or whether it would hold till
he dropped from the noose limb by limb.

Oh! I have been in many a perilous place, I who sprang from the
Swaying Stone to the point of the Trembling Spur, and missed my aim,
but never, never in such a one as this. Agony took hold of me; a cold
sweat burst from every pore. I could feel it running down my face like
tears; my hair bristled upon my head. And below, in utter silence, Leo
turned round and round, and each time he turned his up-cast eyes met
mine with a look that was horrible to see.

The silence was the worst of it, the silence and the helplessness. If
he had cried out, if he had struggled, it would have been better. But
to know that he was alive there, with every nerve and perception at
its utmost stretch. Oh! my God! Oh! my God!

My limbs began to ache, and yet I dared not stir a muscle. They ached
horribly, or so I thought, and beneath this torture, mental and
physical, my mind gave.

I remembered things: remembered how, as a child, I had climbed a tree
and reached a place whence I could move neither up nor down, and what
I suffered then. Remembered how once in Egypt a foolhardy friend of
mine had ascended the Second Pyramid alone, and become thus crucified
upon its shining cap, where he remained for a whole half hour with
four hundred feet of space beneath him. I could see him now stretching
his stockinged foot downwards in a vain attempt to reach the next
crack, and drawing it back again; could see his tortured face, a white
blot upon the red granite.

Then that face vanished and blackness gathered round me, and in the
blackness visions: of the living, resistless avalanche, of the snow-
grave into which I had sunk--oh! years and years ago; of Ayesha
demanding Leo's life at my hands. Blackness and silence, through which
I could only hear the cracking of my muscles.

Suddenly in the blackness a flash, and in the silence a sound. The
flash was the flash of a knife which Leo had drawn. He was hacking at
the cord with it fiercely, fiercely, to make an end. And the sound was
that of the noise he made, a ghastly noise, half shout of defiance and
half yell of terror, as at the third stroke it parted.

I saw it part. The tough hide was half cut through, and its severed
portion curled upwards and downwards like the upper and lower lips of
an angry dog, whilst that which was unsevered stretched out slowly,
slowly, till it grew quite thin. Then it snapped, so that the rope
flew upwards and struck me across the face like the lash of a whip.

Another instant and I heard a crackling, thudding sound. Leo had
struck the ground below. Leo was dead, a mangled mass of flesh and
bone as I had pictured him. I could not bear it. My nerve and human
dignity came back. I would not wait until, my strength exhausted, I
slid from my perch as a wounded bird falls from a tree. No, I would
follow him at once, of my own act.

I let my arms fall against my sides, and rejoiced in the relief from
pain that the movement gave me. Then balanced upon my heels, I stood
upright, took my last look at the sky, muttered my last prayer. For an
instant I remained thus poised.

Shouting, "I come," I raised my hands above my head and dived as a
bather dives, dived into the black gulf beneath.



Oh! that rush through space! Folk falling thus are supposed to lose
consciousness, but I can assert that this is not true. Never were my
wits and perceptions more lively than while I travelled from that
broken glacier to the ground, and never did a short journey seem to
take a longer time. I saw the white floor, like some living thing,
leaping up through empty air to meet me, then--/finis!/

Crash! Why, what was this? I still lived. I was in water, for I could
feel its chill, and going down, down, till I thought I should never
rise again. But rise I did, though my lungs were nigh to bursting
first. As I floated up towards the top I remembered the crash, which
told me that I had passed through ice. Therefore I should meet ice at
the surface again. Oh! to think that after surviving so much I must be
drowned like a kitten and beneath a sheet of ice. My hands touched it.
There it was above me shining white like glass. Heaven be praised! My
head broke through; in this low and sheltered gorge it was but a film
no thicker than a penny formed by the light frost of the previous
night. So I rose from the deep and stared about me, treading water
with my feet.

Then I saw the gladdest sight that ever my eyes beheld, for on the
right, not ten yards away, the water running from his hair and beard,
was Leo. Leo alive, for he broke the thin ice with his arms as he
struggled towards the shore from the deep river.[*] He saw me also,
and his grey eyes seemed to start out of his head.

[*] Usually, as we learned afterwards, the river at this spot was
quite shallow; only a foot or two in depth. It was the avalanche
that by damming it with fallen heaps of snow had raised its level
very many feet. Therefore, to this avalanche, which had threatened
to destroy us, we in reality owed our lives, for had the stream
stood only at its normal height we must have been dashed to pieces
upon the stones.--L. H. H.

"Still living, both of us, and the precipice passed!" he shouted in a
ringing, exultant voice. "I told you we were led."

"Aye, but whither?" I answered as I too fought my way through the film
of ice.

Then it was I became aware that we were no longer alone, for on the
bank of the river, some thirty yards from us, stood two figures, a man
leaning upon a long staff and a woman. He was a very old man, for his
eyes were horny, his snow-white hair and beard hung upon the bent
breast and shoulders, and his sardonic, wrinkled features were yellow
as wax. They might have been those of a death mask cut in marble.
There, clad in an ample, monkish robe, and leaning upon the staff, he
stood still as a statue and watched us. I noted it all, every detail,
although at the time I did not know that I was doing so, as we broke
our way through the ice towards them and afterwards the picture came
back to me. Also I saw that the woman, who was very tall, pointed to

Nearer the bank, or rather to the rock edge of the river, its surface
was free of ice, for here the stream ran very swiftly. Seeing this, we
drew close together and swam on side by side to help each other if
need were. There was much need, for in the fringe of the torrent the
strength that had served me so long seemed to desert me, and I became
helpless; numbed, too, with the biting coldness of the water. Indeed,
had not Leo grasped my clothes I think that I should have been swept
away by the current to perish. Thus aided I fought on a while, till he

"I am going under. Hold to the rope end."

So I gripped the strip of yak's hide that was still fast about him,
and, his hand thus freed, Leo made a last splendid effort to keep us
both, cumbered as we were with the thick, soaked garments that dragged
us down like lead, from being sucked beneath the surface. Moreover, he
succeeded where any other swimmer of less strength must have failed.
Still, I believe that we should have drowned, since here the water ran
like a mill-race, had not the man upon the shore, seeing our plight
and urged thereto by the woman, run with surprising swiftness in one
so aged, to a point of rock that jutted some yards into the stream,
past which we were being swept, and seating himself, stretched out his
long stick towards us.

With a desperate endeavour, Leo grasped it as we went by, rolling over
and over each other, and held on. Round we swung into the eddy, found
our feet, were knocked down again, rubbed and pounded on the rocks.
But still gripping that staff of salvation, to his end of which the
old man clung like a limpet to a stone, while the woman clung to him,
we recovered ourselves, and, sheltered somewhat by the rock,
floundered towards the shore. Lying on his face--for we were still in
great danger--the man extended his arm. We could not reach it; and
worse, suddenly the staff was torn from him; we were being swept away.

Then it was that the woman did a noble thing, for springing into the
water--yes, up to her armpits--and holding fast to the old man by her
left hand, with the right she seized Leo's hair and dragged him
shorewards. Now he found his feet for a moment, and throwing one arm
about her slender form, steadied himself thus, while with the other he
supported me. Next followed a long confused struggle, but the end of
it was that three of us, the old man, Leo and I, rolled in a heap upon
the bank and lay there gasping.

Presently I looked up. The woman stood over us, water streaming from
her garments, staring like one in a dream at Leo's face, smothered as
it was with blood running from a deep cut in his head. Even then I
noticed how stately and beautiful she was. Now she seemed to awake
and, glancing at the robes that clung to her splendid shape, said
something to her companion, then turned and ran towards the cliff.

As we lay before him, utterly exhausted, the old man, who had risen,
contemplated us solemnly with his dim eyes. He spoke, but we did not
understand. Again he tried another language and without success. A
third time and our ears were opened, for the tongue he used was Greek;
yes, there in Central Asia he addressed us in Greek, not very pure, it
is true, but still Greek.

"Are you wizards," he said, "that you have lived to reach this land?"

"Nay," I answered in the same tongue, though in broken words--since of
Greek I had thought little for many a year--"for then we should have
come otherwise," and I pointed to our hurts and the precipice behind

"They know the ancient speech; it is as we were told from the
Mountain," he muttered to himself. Then he asked--

"Strangers, what seek you?"

Now I grew cunning and did not answer, fearing lest, should he learn
the truth, he would thrust us back into the river. But Leo had no such
caution, or rather all reason had left him; he was light-headed.

"We seek," he stuttered out--his Greek, which had always been feeble,
now was simply barbarous and mixed with various Thibetan dialects--"we
seek the land of the Fire Mountain that is crowned with the Sign of

The man stared at us. "So you know," he said, then broke off and
added, "and /whom/ do you seek?"

"Her," answered Leo wildly, "the Queen." I think that he meant to say
the priestess, or the goddess, but could only think of the Greek for
Queen, or rather something resembling it. Or perhaps it was because
the woman who had gone looked like a queen.

"Oh!" said the man, "you seek a queen--then you /are/ those for whom
we were bidden to watch. Nay, how can I be sure?"

"Is this a time to put questions?" I gasped angrily. "Answer me one
rather: who are you?"

"I? Strangers, my title is Guardian of the Gate, and the lady who was
with me is the Khania of Kaloon."

At this point Leo began to faint.

"That man is sick," said the Guardian, "and now that you have got your
breath again, you must have shelter, both of you, and at once. Come,
help me."

So, supporting Leo on either side, we dragged ourselves away from that
accursed cliff and Styx-like river up a narrow, winding gorge.
Presently it opened out, and there, stretching across the glade, we
saw the Gate. Of this all I observed then, for my memory of the
details of this scene and of the conversation that passed is very weak
and blurred, was that it seemed to be a mighty wall of rock in which a
pathway had been hollowed where doubtless once passed the road. On one
side of this passage was a stair, which we began to ascend with great
difficulty, for Leo was now almost senseless and scarcely moved his
legs. Indeed at the head of the first flight he sank down in a heap,
nor did our strength suffice to lift him.

While I wondered feebly what was to be done, I heard footsteps, and
looking up, saw the woman who had saved him descending the stair, and
after her two robed men with a Tartar cast of countenance, very
impassive; small eyes and yellowish skin. Even the sight of us did not
appear to move them to astonishment. She spoke some words to them,
whereon they lifted Leo's heavy frame, apparently with ease, and
carried him up the steps.

We followed, and reached a room that seemed to be hewn from the rock
above the gateway, where the woman called Khania left us. From it we
passed through other rooms, one of them a kind of kitchen, in which a
fire burned, till we came to a large chamber, evidently a sleeping
place, for in it were wooden bedsteads, mattresses and rugs. Here Leo
was laid down, and with the assistance of one of his servants, the old
Guardian undressed him, at the same time motioning me to take off my
own garments. This I did gladly enough for the first time during many
days, though with great pain and difficulty, to find that I was a mass
of wounds and bruises.

Presently our host blew upon a whistle, and the other servant appeared
bringing hot water in a jar, with which we were washed over. Then the
Guardian dressed our hurts with some soothing ointment, and wrapped us
round with blankets. After this broth was brought, into which he mixed
medicine, and giving me a portion to drink where I lay upon one of the
beds, he took Leo's head upon his knee and poured the rest of it down
his throat. Instantly a wonderful warmth ran through me, and my aching
brain began to swim. Then I remembered no more.

After this we were very, very ill. What may be the exact medical
definition of our sickness I do not know, but in effect it was such as
follows loss of blood, extreme exhaustion of body, paralysing shock to
the nerves and extensive cuts and contusions. These taken together
produced a long period of semi-unconsciousness, followed by another
period of fever and delirium. All that I can recall of those weeks
while we remained the guests of the Guardian of the Gate, may be
summed up in one word--dreams, that is until at last I recovered my

The dreams themselves are forgotten, which is perhaps as well, since
they were very confused, and for the most part awful; a hotch-potch of
nightmares, reflected without doubt from vivid memories of our recent
and fearsome sufferings. At times I would wake up from them a little,
I suppose when food was administered to me, and receive impressions of
whatever was passing in the place. Thus I can recollect that yellow-
faced old Guardian standing over me like a ghost in the moonlight,
stroking his long beard, his eyes fixed upon my face, as though he
would search out the secrets of my soul.

"They are the men," he muttered to himself, "without doubt they are
the men," then walked to the window and looked up long and earnestly,
like one who studies the stars.

After this I remember a disturbance in the room, and dominating it, as
it were, the rich sound of a woman's voice and the rustle of a woman's
silks sweeping the stone floor. I opened my eyes and saw that it was
she who had helped to rescue us, who /had/ rescued us in fact, a tall
and noble-looking lady with a beauteous, weary face and liquid eyes
which seemed to burn. From the heavy cloak she wore I thought that she
must have just returned from a journey.

She stood above me and looked at me, then turned away with a gesture
of indifference, if not of disgust, speaking to the Guardian in a low
voice. By way of answer he bowed, pointing to the other bed where Leo
lay, asleep, and thither she passed with slow, imperious movements. I
saw her bend down and lift the corner of a wrapping which covered his
wounded head, and heard her utter some smothered words before she
turned round to the Guardian as though to question him further.

But he had gone, and being alone, for she thought me senseless, she
drew a rough stool to the side of the bed, and seating herself studied
Leo, who lay thereon, with an earnestness that was almost terrible,
for her soul seemed to be concentrated in her eyes, and to find
expression through them. Long she gazed thus, then rose and began to
walk swiftly up and down the chamber, pressing her hands now to her
bosom and now to her brow, a certain passionate perplexity stamped
upon her face, as though she struggled to remember something and could

"Where and when?" she whispered. "Oh! where and when?"

Of the end of that scene I know nothing, for although I fought hard
against it, oblivion mastered me. After this I became aware that the
regal-looking woman called Khania, was always in the room, and that
she seemed to be nursing Leo with great care and tenderness. Sometimes
even she nursed me when Leo did not need attention, and she had
nothing else to do, or so her manner seemed to suggest. It was as
though I excited her curiosity, and she wished me to recover that it
might be satisfied.

Again I awoke, how long afterwards I cannot say. It was night, and the
room was lighted by the moon only, now shining in a clear sky. Its
steady rays entering at the window-place fell on Leo's bed, and by
them I saw that the dark, imperial woman was watching at his side.
Some sense of her presence must have communicated itself to him, for
he began to mutter in his sleep, now in English, now in Arabic. She
became intensely interested; as her every movement showed. Then rising
suddenly she glided across the room on tiptoe to look at me. Seeing
her coming I feigned to be asleep, and so well that she was deceived.

For I was also interested. Who was this lady whom the Guardian had
called the Khania of Kaloon? Could it be she whom we sought? Why not?
And yet if I saw Ayesha, surely I should know her, surely there would
be no room for doubt.

Back she went again to the bed, kneeling down beside Leo, and in the
intense silence which followed--for he had ceased his mutterings--I
thought that I could hear the beating of her heart. Now she began to
speak, very low and in that same bastard Greek tongue, mixed here and
there with Mongolian words such as are common to the dialects of
Central Asia. I could not hear or understand all she said, but some
sentences I did understand, and they frightened me not a little.

"Man of my dreams," she murmured, "whence come you? Who are you? Why
did the Hesea bid me to meet you?" Then some sentences I could not
catch. "You sleep; in sleep the eyes are opened. Answer, I bid you;
say what is the bond between you and me? Why have I dreamt of you? Why
do I know you? Why----?" and the sweet, rich voice died slowly from a
whisper into silence, as though she were ashamed to utter what was on
her tongue.

As she bent over him a lock of her hair broke loose from its jewelled
fillet and fell across his face. At its touch Leo seemed to wake, for
he lifted his gaunt, white hand and touched the hair, then said in

"Where am I? Oh! I remember;" and their eyes met as he strove to lift
himself and could not. Then he spoke again in his broken, stumbling
Greek, "You are the lady who saved me from the water. Say, are you
also that queen whom I have sought so long and endured so much to

"I know not," she answered in a voice as sweet as honey, a low,
trembling voice; "but true it is I am a queen--if a Khania be a

"Say, then, Queen, do you remember me?"

"We have met in dreams," she answered, "I think that we have met in a
past that is far away. Yes; I knew it when first I saw you there by
the river. Stranger with the well remembered face, tell me, I pray
you, how you are named?"

"Leo Vincey."

She shook her head, whispering--

"I know not the name, yet you I know."

"You know me! How do you know me?" he said heavily, and seemed to sink
again into slumber or swoon.

She watched him for a while very intently. Then as though some force
that she could not resist drew her, I saw her bend down her head over
his sleeping face. Yes; and I saw her kiss him swiftly on the lips,
then spring back crimson to the hair, as though overwhelmed with shame
at this victory of her mad passion.

Now it was that she discovered me.

Bewildered, fascinated, amazed, I had raised myself upon my bed, not
knowing it; I suppose that I might see and hear the better. It was
wrong, doubtless, but no common curiosity over-mastered me, who had my
share in all this story. More, it was foolish, but illness and wonder
had killed my reason.

Yes, she saw me watching them, and such fury seemed to take hold of
her that I thought my hour had come.

"Man, have you dared----?" she said in an intense whisper, and
snatching at her girdle. Now in her hand shone a knife, and I knew
that it was destined for my heart. Then in this sore danger my wit
came back to me and as she advanced I stretched out my shaking hand,

"Oh! of your pity, give me to drink. The fever burns me, it burns,"
and I looked round like one bewildered who sees not, repeating, "Give
me drink, you who are called Guardian," and I fell back exhausted.

She stopped like a hawk in its stoop, and swiftly sheathed the dagger.
Then taking a bowl of milk that stood on a table near her, she held it
to my lips, searching my face the while with her flaming eyes, for
indeed passion, rage, and fear had lit them till they seemed to flame.
I drank the milk in great gulps, though never in my life did I find it
more hard to swallow.

"You tremble," she said; "have dreams haunted you?"

"Aye, friend," I answered, "dreams of that fearsome precipice and of
the last leap."

"Aught else?" she asked.

"Nay; is it not enough? Oh! what a journey to have taken to befriend a

"To befriend a queen," she repeated puzzled. "What means the man? You
swear you have had no other dreams?"

"Aye, I swear by the Symbol of Life and the Mount of the Wavering
Flame, and by yourself, O Queen from the ancient days."

Then I sighed and pretended to swoon, for I could think of nothing
else to do. As I closed my eyes I saw her face that had been red as
dawn turn pale as eve, for my words and all which might lie behind
them, had gone home. Moreover, she was in doubt, for I could hear her
fingering the handle of the dagger. Then she spoke aloud, words for my
ears if they still were open.

"I am glad," she said, "that he dreamed no other dreams, since had he
done so and babbled of them it would have been ill-omened, and I do
not wish that one who has travelled far to visit us should be hurled
to the death-dogs for burial; one, moreover, who although old and
hideous, still has the air of a wise and silent man."

Now while I shivered at these unpleasant hints--though what the
"death-dogs" in which people were buried might be, I could not
conceive--to my intense joy I heard the foot of the Guardian on the
stairs, heard him too enter the room and saw him bow before the lady.

"How go these sick men, niece?"[*] he said in his cold voice.

[*] I found later that the Khania, Atene, was not Simbri's niece but
his great-niece, on the mother's side.--L. H. H.

"They swoon, both of them," she answered.

"Indeed, is it so? I thought otherwise. I thought they woke."

"What have you heard, Shaman (i.e. wizard)?" she asked angrily.

"I? Oh! I heard the grating of a dagger in its sheath and the distant
baying of the death-hounds."

"And what have you seen, Shaman?" she asked again, "looking through
the Gate you guard?"

"Strange sight, Khania, my niece. But--men awake from swoons."

"Aye," she answered, "so while this one sleeps, bear him to another
chamber, for he needs change, and the lord yonder needs more space and
untainted air."

The Guardian, whom she called "Shaman" or Magician, held a lamp in his
hand, and by its light it was easy to see his face, which I watched
out of the corner of my eye. I thought that it wore a very strange
expression, one moreover that alarmed me somewhat. From the beginning
I had misdoubted me of this old man, whose cast of countenance was
vindictive as it was able; now I was afraid of him.

"To which chamber, Khania?" he said with meaning.

"I think," she answered slowly, "to one that is healthful, where he
will recover. The man has wisdom," she added as though in explanation,
"moreover, having the word from the Mountain, to harm him would be
dangerous. But why do you ask?"

He shrugged his shoulders.

"I tell you I heard the death-hounds bay, that is all. Yes, with you I
think that he has wisdom, and the bee which seeks honey should suck
the flower--before it fades! Also, as you say, there are commands with
which it is ill to trifle, even if we cannot guess their meaning."

Then going to the door he blew upon his whistle, and instantly I heard
the feet of his servants upon the stairs. He gave them an order, and
gently enough they lifted the mattress on which I lay and followed him
down sundry passages and past some stairs into another chamber shaped
like that we had left, but not so large, where they placed me upon a

The Guardian watched me awhile to see that I did not wake. Next he
stretched out his hand and felt my heart and pulse; an examination the
results of which seemed to /puzzle/ him, for he uttered a little
exclamation and shook his head. After this he left the room, and I
heard him bolt the door behind him. Then, being still very weak, I
fell asleep in earnest.

When I awoke it was broad daylight. My mind was clear and I felt
better than I had done for many a day, signs by which I knew that the
fever had left me and that I was on the high road to recovery. Now I
remembered all the events of the previous night and was able to weigh
them carefully. This, to be sure, I did for many reasons, among them
that I knew I had been and still was, in great danger.

I had seen and heard too much, and this woman called Khania guessed
that I had seen and heard. Indeed, had it not been for my hints about
the Symbol of Life and the Mount of Flame, after I had disarmed her
first rage by my artifice, I felt sure that she would have ordered the
old Guardian or Shaman to do me to death in this way or the other;
sure also that he would not have hesitated to obey her. I had been
spared partly because, for some unknown reason, she was afraid to kill
me, and partly that she might learn how much I knew, although the
"death-hounds had bayed," whatever that might mean. Well, up to the
present I was safe, and for the rest I must take my chance. Moreover
it was necessary to be cautious, and, if need were, to feign
ignorance. So, dismissing the matter of my own fate from my mind, I
fell to considering the scene which I had witnessed and what might be
its purport.

Was our quest at an end? Was this woman Ayesha? Leo had so dreamed,
but he was still delirious, therefore here was little on which to
lean. What seemed more to the point was that she herself evidently
appeared to think that there existed some tie between her and this
sick man. Why had she embraced him? I was sure that she could be no
wanton, nor indeed would any woman indulge for its own sake in such
folly with a stranger who hung between life and death. What she had
done was done because irresistible impulse, born of knowledge, or at
least of memories, drove her on, though mayhap the knowledge was
imperfect and the memories were undefined. Who save Ayesha could have
known anything of Leo in the past? None who lived upon the earth

And yet, why not, if what Kou-en the abbot and tens of millions of his
fellow-worshippers believed were true? If the souls of human beings
were in fact strictly limited in number, and became the tenants of an
endless succession of physical bodies which they change from time to
time as we change our worn-out garments, why should not others have
known him? For instance that daughter of the Pharaohs who "caused him
through love to break the vows that he had vowed" knew a certain
Kallikrates, a priest of "Isis whom the gods cherish and the demons
obey;" even Amenartas, the mistress of magic.

Oh! now a light seemed to break upon me, a wonderful light. What if
Amenartas and this Khania, this woman with royalty stamped on every
feature, should be the same? Would not that "magic of my own people
that I have" of which she wrote upon the Sherd, enable her to pierce
the darkness of the Past and recognize the priest whom she had
bewitched to love her, snatching him out of the very hand of the
goddess? What if it were not Ayesha, but Amenartas re-incarnate who
ruled this hidden land and once more sought to make the man she loved
break through his vows? If so, knowing the evil that must come, I
shook even at its shadow. The truth must be learned, but how?

Whilst I wondered the door opened, and the sardonic, inscrutable-old-
faced man, whom this Khania had called Magician, and who called the
Khania, niece, entered and stood before me.



The shaman advanced to my side and asked me courteously how I fared.

I answered, "Better. Far better, oh, my host--but how are you named?"

"Simbri," he answered, "and, as I told you by the water, my title is
Hereditary Guardian of the Gate. By profession I am the royal
Physician in this land."

"Did you say physician or magician?" I asked carelessly, as though I
had not caught the word. He gave me a curious look.

"I /said/ physician, and it is well for you and your companion that I
have some skill in my art. Otherwise I think, perhaps, you would not
have been alive to-day, O my guest--but how are /you/ named?"

"Holly," I said.

"O my guest, Holly."

"Had it not been for the foresight that brought you and the lady
Khania to the edge of yonder darksome river, certainly we should /not/
have been alive, venerable Simbri, a foresight that seems to me to
savour of magic in such a lonely place. That is why I thought you
might have described yourself as a magician, though it is true that
you may have been but fishing in those waters."

"Certainly I was fishing, stranger Holly--for men, and I caught two."

"Fishing by chance, host Simbri?"

"Nay, by design, guest Holly. My trade of physician includes the study
of future events, for I am the chief of the Shamans or Seers of this
land, and, having been warned of your coming quite recently, I awaited
your arrival."

"Indeed, that is strange, most courteous also. So here physician and
magician mean the same."

"You say it," he answered with a grave bow; "but tell me, if you will,
how did you find your way to a land whither visitors do not wander?"

"Oh!" I answered, "perhaps we are but travellers, or perhaps we also
have studied--medicine."

"I think that you must have studied it deeply, since otherwise you
would not have lived to cross those mountains in search of--now, what
did you seek? Your companion, I think, spoke of a queen--yonder, on
the banks of the torrent."

"Did he? Did he, indeed? Well, that is strange since he seems to have
found one, for surely that royal-looking lady, named Khania, who
sprang into the stream and saved us, must be a queen."

"A queen she is, and a great one, for in our land Khania means queen,
though how, friend Holly, a man who has lain senseless can have
learned this, I do not know. Nor do I know how you come to speak our

"That is simple, for the tongue you talk is very ancient, and as it
chances in my own country it has been my lot to study and to teach it.
It is Greek, but although it is still spoken in the world, how it
reached these mountains I cannot say."

"I will tell you," he answered. "Many generations ago a great
conqueror born of the nation that spoke this tongue fought his way
through the country to the south of us. He was driven back, but a
general of his of another race advanced and crossed the mountains, and
overcame the people of this land, bringing with him his master's
language and his own worship. Here he established his dynasty, and
here it remains, for being ringed in with deserts and with pathless
mountain snows, we hold no converse with the outer world."

"Yes, I know something of that story; the conqueror was named
Alexander, was he not?" I asked.

"He was so named, and the name of the general was Rassen, a native of
a country called Egypt, or so our records tell us. His descendants
hold the throne to this day, and the Khania is of his blood."

"Was the goddess whom he worshipped called Isis?"

"Nay," he answered, "she was called Hes."

"Which," I interrupted, "is but another title for Isis. Tell me, is
her worship continued here? I ask because it is now dead in Egypt,
which was its home."

"There is a temple on the Mountain yonder," he replied indifferently,
"and in it are priests and priestesses who practise some ancient cult.
But the real god of this people now, as long before the day of Rassen
their conqueror, is the fire that dwells in this same Mountain, which
from time to time breaks out and slays them."

"And does a goddess dwell in the fire?" I asked.

Again he searched my face with his cold eyes, then answered--

"Stranger Holly, I know nothing of any goddess. That Mountain is
sacred, and to seek to learn its secrets is to die. Why do you ask
such questions?"

"Only because I am curious in the matter of old religions, and seeing
the symbol of Life upon yonder peak, came hither to study yours, of
which indeed a tradition still remains among the learned."

"Then abandon that study, friend Holly, for the road to it runs
through the paws of the death-hounds, and the spears of savages. Nor
indeed is there anything to learn."

"And what, Physician, are the death-hounds?"

"Certain dogs to which, according to our ancient custom, all offenders
against the law or the will of the Khan, are cast to be torn to

"The will of the Khan! Has this Khania of yours a husband then?"

"Aye," he answered, "her cousin, who was the ruler of half the land.
Now they and the land are one. But you have talked enough; I am here
to say that your food is ready," and he turned to leave the room.

"One more question, friend Simbri. How came I to this chamber, and
where is my companion?"

"You were borne hither in your sleep, and see, the change has bettered
you. Do you remember nothing?"

"Nothing, nothing at all," I answered earnestly. "But what of my

"He also is better. The Khania Atene nurses him."

"Atene?" I said. "That is an old Egyptian name. It means the Disk of
the Sun, and a woman who bore it thousands of years ago was famous for
her beauty."

"Well, and is not my niece Atene beautiful?"

"How can I tell, O uncle of the Khania," I answered wearily, "who have
scarcely seen her?"

Then he departed, and presently his yellow-faced, silent servants
brought me my food.

Later in the morning the door opened again, and through it,
unattended, came the Khania Atene, who shut and bolted it behind her.
This action did not reassure me, still, rising in my bed, I saluted
her as best I could, although at heart I was afraid. She seemed to
read my doubts for she said--

"Lie down, and have no fear. At present you will come by no harm from
me. Now, tell me what is the man called Leo to you? Your son? Nay, it
cannot be, since--forgive me--light is not born of darkness."

"I have always thought that it was so born, Khania. Yet you are right;
he is but my adopted son, and a man whom I love."

"Say, what seek you here?" she asked.

"We seek, Khania, whatsoever Fate shall bring us on yonder Mountain,
that which is crowned with flame."

Her face paled at the words, but she answered in a steady voice--

"Then there you will find nothing but doom, if indeed you do not find
it before you reach its slopes, which are guarded by savage men.
Yonder is the College of Hes, and to violate its Sanctuary is death to
any man, death in the ever-burning fire."

"And who rules this college, Khania--a priestess?"

"Yes, a priestess, whose face I have never seen, for she is so old
that she veils herself from curious eyes."

"Ah! she veils herself, does she?" I answered, as the blood went
thrilling through my veins, I who remembered another who also was /so/
old that she veiled herself from curious eyes. "Well, veiled or
unveiled, we would visit her, trusting to find that we are welcome."

"That you shall not do," she said, "for it is unlawful, and I will not
have your blood upon my hands."

"Which is the stronger," I asked of her, "you, Khania, or this
priestess of the Mountain?"

"I am the stronger, Holly, for so you are named, are you not? Look
you, at my need I can summon sixty thousand men in war, while she has
naught but her priests and the fierce, untrained tribes."

"The sword is not the only power in the world," I answered. "Tell me,
now, does this priestess ever visit the country of Kaloon?"

"Never, never, for by the ancient pact, made after the last great
struggle long centuries ago between the College and the people of the
Plain, it was decreed and sworn to that should she set her foot across
the river, this means war to the end between us, and rule for the
victor over both. Likewise, save when unguarded they bear their dead
to burial, or for some such high purpose, no Khan or Khania of Kaloon
ascends the Mountain."

"Which then is the true master--the Khan of Kaloon or the head of the
College of Hes?" I asked again.

"In matters spiritual, the priestess of Hes, who is our Oracle and the
voice of Heaven. In matters temporal, the Khan of Kaloon."

"The Khan. Ah! you are married, lady, are you not?"

"Aye," she answered, her face flushing. "And I will tell you what you
soon must learn, if you have not learned it already, I am the wife of
a madman, and he is--hateful to me."

"I /have/ earned the last already, Khania."

She looked at me with her piercing eyes.

"What! Did my uncle, the Shaman, he who is called Guardian, tell you?
Nay, you saw, as I knew you saw, and it would have been best to slay
you for, oh! what must you think of me?"

I made no answer, for in truth I did not know what to think, also I
feared lest further rash admissions should be followed by swift

"You must believe," she went on, "that I, who have ever hated men,
that I--I swear that it is true--whose lips are purer than those
mountain snows, I, the Khania of Kaloon, whom they name Heart-of-Ice,
am but a shameless thing." And, covering her face with her hand, she
moaned in the bitterness of her distress.

"Nay," I said, "there may be reasons, explanations, if it pleases you
to give them."

"Wanderer, there are such reasons; and since you know so much, you
shall learn them also. Like that husband of mine, I have become mad.
When first I saw the face of your companion, as I dragged him from the
river, madness entered me, and I--I----"

"Loved him," I suggested. "Well, such things have happened before to
people who were not mad."

"Oh!" she went on, "it was more than love; I was possessed, and that
night I knew not what I did. A Power drove me on; a Destiny compelled
me, and to the end I am his, and his alone. Yes, I am his, and I swear
that he shall be mine;" and with this wild declaration dangerous
enough under the conditions, she turned and fled the room.

She was gone, and after the struggle, for such it was, I sank back
exhausted. How came it that this sudden passion had mastered her? Who
and what was this Khania, I wondered again, and--this was more to the
point, who and what would Leo believe her to be? If only I could be
with him before he said words or did deeds impossible to recall.

Three days went by, during which time I saw no more of the Khania,
who, or so I was informed by Simbri, the Shaman, had returned to her
city to make ready for us, her guests. I begged him to allow me to
rejoin Leo, but he answered politely, though with much firmness, that
my foster-son did better without me. Now, I grew suspicious, fearing
lest some harm had come to Leo, though how to discover the truth I
knew not. In my anxiety I tried to convey a note to him, written upon
a leaf of a water-gained pocket-book, but the yellow-faced servant
refused to touch it, and Simbri said drily that he would have naught
to do with writings which he could not read. At length, on the third
night I made up my mind that whatever the risk, with leave or without
it, I would try to find him.

By this time I could walk well, and indeed was almost strong again. So
about midnight, when the moon was up, for I had no other light, I
crept from my bed, threw on my garments, and taking a knife, which was
the only weapon I possessed, opened the door of my room and started.

Now, when I was carried from the rock-chamber where Leo and I had been
together, I took note of the way. First, reckoning from my sleeping-
place, there was a passage thirty paces long, for I had counted the
footfalls of my bearers. Then came a turn to the left, and ten more
paces of passage, and lastly near certain steps running to some place
unknown, another sharp turn to the right which led to our old chamber.

Down the long passage I walked stealthily, and although it was pitch
dark, found the turn to the left, and followed it till I came to the
second sharp turn to the right, that of the gallery from which rose
the stairs. I crept round it only to retreat hastily enough, as well I
might, for at the door of Leo's room, which she was in the act of
locking on the outside, as I could see by the light of the lamp that
she held in her hand, stood the Khania herself.

My first thought was to fly back to my own chamber, but I abandoned
it, feeling sure that I should be seen. Therefore I determined, if she
discovered me, to face the matter out and say that I was trying to
find Leo, and to learn how he fared. So I crouched against the wall,
and waited with a beating heart. I heard her sweep down the passage,
and--yes--begin to mount the stair.

Now, what should I do? To try to reach Leo was useless, for she had
locked the door with the key she held. Go back to bed? No, I would
follow her, and if we met would make the same excuse. Thus I might get
some tidings, or perhaps--a dagger thrust.

So round the corner and up the steps I went, noiselessly as a snake.
They were many and winding, like those of a church tower, but at
length I came to the head of them, where was a little landing, and
opening from it a door. It was a very ancient door; the light streamed
through cracks where its panels had rotted, and from the room beyond
came the sound of voices, those of the Shaman Simbri and the Khania.

"Have you learned aught, my niece?" I heard him say, and also heard
her answer---

"A little. A very little."

Then in my thirst for knowledge I grew bold, and stealing to the door,
looked through one of the cracks in its wood. Opposite to me, in the
full flood of light thrown by a hanging lamp, her hand resting on a
table at which Simbri was seated, stood the Khania. Truly she was a
beauteous sight, for she wore robes of royal purple, and on her brow a
little coronet of gold, beneath which her curling hair streamed down
her shapely neck and bosom. Seeing her I guessed at once that she had
arrayed herself thus for some secret end, enhancing her loveliness by
every art and grace that is known to woman. Simbri was looking at her
earnestly, with fear and doubt written on even his cold, impassive

"What passed between you, then?" he asked, peering at her.

"I questioned him closely as to the reason of his coming to this land,
and wrung from him the answer that it was to seek some beauteous woman
--he would say no more. I asked him if she were more beauteous than
/I/ am, and he replied with courtesy--nothing else, I think--that it
would be hard to say, but that she had been different. Then I said
that though it behooved me not to speak of such a matter, there was no
lady in Kaloon whom men held to be so fair as I; moreover, that I was
its ruler, and that I and no other had saved him from the water. Aye,
and I added that my heart told me I was the woman whom he sought."

"Have done, niece," said Simbri impatiently, "I would not hear of the
arts you used--well enough, doubtless. What then?"

"Then he said that it might be so, since he thought that this woman
was born again, and studied me a while, asking me if I had ever
'passed through fire.' To this I replied that the only fires I had
passed were those of the spirit, and that I dwelt in them now. He
said, 'Show me your hair,' and I placed a lock of it in his hand.
Presently he let it fall, and from that satchel which he wears about
his neck drew out another tress of hair--oh! Simbri, my uncle, the
loveliest hair that ever eyes beheld, for it was soft as silk, and
reached from my coronet to the ground. Moreover, no raven's wing in
the sunshine ever shone as did that fragrant tress.

"'Yours is beautiful,' he said, 'but see, they are not the same.'

"'Mayhap,' I answered, 'since no woman ever wore such locks.'

"'You are right,' he replied, 'for she whom I seek was more than a

"And then--and then--though I tried him in many ways he would say no
more, so, feeling hate against this Unknown rising in my heart, and
fearing lest I should utter words that were best unsaid, I left him.
Now I bid you, search the books which are open to your wisdom and tell
me of this woman whom he seeks, who she is, and where she dwells. Oh!
search them swiftly, that I may find her and--kill her if I can."

"Aye, if you can," answered the Shaman, "and if she lives to kill. But
say, where shall we begin our quest? Now, this letter from the
Mountain that the head-priest Oros sent to your court a while ago?"--
and he selected a parchment from a pile which lay upon the table and
looked at her.

"Read," she said, "I would hear it again."

So he read: "From the Hesea of the House of Fire, to Atene, Khania of

"My sister--Warning has reached me that two strangers of a western
race journey to your land, seeking my Oracle, of which they would ask
a question. On the first day of the next moon, I command that you and
with you Simbri, your great-uncle, the wise Shaman, Guardian of the
Gate, shall be watching the river in the gulf at the foot of the
ancient road, for by that steep path the strangers travel. Aid them in
all things and bring them safely to the Mountain, knowing that in this
matter I shall hold him and you to account. Myself I will not meet
them, since to do so would be to break the pact between our powers,
which says that the Hesea of the Sanctuary visits not the territory of
Kaloon, save in war. Also their coming is otherwise appointed."

"It would seem," said Simbri, laying down the parchment, "that these
are no chance wanderers, since Hes awaits them."

"Aye, they are no chance wanderers, since my heart awaited one of them
also. Yet the Hesea cannot be that woman, for reasons which are known
to you."

"There are many women on the Mountain," suggested the Shaman in a dry
voice, "if indeed any woman has to do with this matter."

"I at least have to do with it, and he shall not go to the Mountain."

"Hes is powerful, my niece, and beneath these smooth words of hers
lies a dreadful threat. I say that she is mighty from of old and has
servants in the earth and air who warned her of the coming of these
men, and will warn her of what befalls them. I know it, who hate her,
and to your royal house of Rassen it has been known for many a
generation. Therefore thwart her not lest ill befall us all, for she
is a spirit and terrible. She says that it is appointed that they
shall go----"

"And /I/ say it is appointed that he shall not go. Let the other go if
he desires."

"Atene, be plain, what will you with the man called Leo--that he
should become your lover?" asked the Shaman.

She stared him straight in the eyes, and answered boldly--

"Nay, I will that he should become my husband."

"First he must will it too, who seems to have no mind that way. Also,
how can a woman have two husbands?"

She laid her hand upon his shoulder and said--

"I have no husband. You know it well, Simbri. /I/ charge you by the
close bond of blood between us, brew me another draught----"

"That we may be bound yet closer in a bond of murder! Nay, Atene, I
will not; already your sin lies heavy on my head. You are very fair;
take the man in your own net, if you may, or let him be, which is
better far."

"I cannot let him be. Would that I were able. I must love him as I
must hate the other whom he loves, yet some power hardens his heart
against me. Oh! great Shaman, you that peep and mutter, you who can
read the future and the past, tell me what you have learned from your
stars and divinations."

"Already I have sought through many a secret, toilsome hour and
learned this, Atene," he answered. "You are right, the fate of yonder
man is intertwined with yours, but between you and him there rises a
mighty wall that my vision cannot pierce nor my familiars climb. Yet I
am taught that in death you and he--aye, and I also, shall be very
near together."

"Then come death," she exclaimed with sullen pride, "for thence at
least I'll pluck out my desire."

"Be not so sure," he answered, "for I think that the Power follows us
even down this dark gulf of death. I think also that I feel the
sleepless eyes of Hes watching our secret souls."

"Then blind them with the dust of illusions--as you can. To-morrow,
also, saying nothing of their sex, send a messenger to the Mountain
and tell the Hesea that two old strangers have arrived--mark you,
/old/--but that they are very sick, that their limbs were broken in
the river, and that when they have healed again, I will send them to
ask the question of her Oracle--that is, some three moons hence.
Perchance she may believe you, and be content to wait; or if she does
not, at least no more words. I must sleep or my brain will burst. Give
me that medicine which brings dreamless rest, for never did I need it
more, who also feel eyes upon me," and she glanced towards the door.

Then I left, and not too soon, for as I crept down the darksome passage,
I heard it open behind me.



It may have been ten o'clock on the following morning, or a little
past it, when the Shaman Simbri came into my room and asked me how I
had slept.

"Like a log," I answered, "like a log. A drugged man could not have
rested more soundly."

"Indeed, friend Holly, and yet you look fatigued."

"My dreams troubled me somewhat," I answered. "I suffer from such
things. But surely by your face, friend Simbri, you cannot have slept
at all, for never yet have I seen you with so weary an air."

"I am weary," he said, with a sigh. "Last night I spent up on my
business--watching at the Gates."

"What gates?" I asked. "Those by which we entered this kingdom, for,
if so, I would rather watch than travel them."

"The Gates of the Past and of the Future. Yes, those two which you
entered, if you will; for did you not travel out of a wondrous Past
towards a Future that you cannot /guess?/"

"But both of which interest you," I suggested.

"Perhaps," he answered, then added, "I come to tell you that within an
hour you are to start for the city, whither the Khania has but now
gone on to make ready for you."

"Yes; only you told me that she had gone some days ago. Well, I am
sound again and prepared to march, but say, how is my foster-son?"

"He mends, he mends. But you shall see him for yourself. It is the
Khania's will. Here come the slaves bearing your robes, and with them
I leave you."

So with their assistance I dressed myself, first in good, clean under-
linen, then in wide woollen trousers and vest, and lastly in a fur-
lined camel-hair robe dyed black that was very comfortable to wear,
and in appearance not unlike a long overcoat. A flat cap of the same
material and a pair of boots made of untanned hide completed my

Scarcely was I ready when the yellow-faced servants, with many bows,
took me by the hand and led me down the passages and stairs of the
Gate-house to its door. Here, to my great joy, I found Leo, looking
pale and troubled, but otherwise as well as I could expect after his
sickness. He was attired like myself, save that his garments were of a
finer quality, and the overcoat was white, with a hood to it, added, I
suppose, to protect the wound in his head from cold and the sun. This
white dress I thought became him very well, also about it there was
nothing grotesque or even remarkable. He sprang to me and seized my
hand, asking how I fared and where I had been hidden away, a greeting
of which, as I could see, the warmth was not lost upon Simbri, who
stood by.

I answered, well enough now that we were together again, and for the
rest I would tell him later.

Then they brought us palanquins, carried, each of them, by two ponies,
one of which was harnessed ahead and the other behind between long
shaft-like poles. In these we seated ourselves, and at a sign from
Simbri slaves took the leading ponies by the bridle and we started,
leaving behind us that grim old Gate-house through which we were the
first strangers to pass for many a generation.

For a mile or more our road ran down a winding, rocky gorge, till
suddenly it took a turn, and the country of Kaloon lay stretched
before us. At our feet was a river, probably the same with which we
had made acquaintance in the gulf, where, fed by the mountain snows,
it had its source. Here it flowed rapidly, but on the vast, alluvial
lands beneath became a broad and gentle stream that wound its way
through the limitless plains till it was lost in the blue of the

To the north, however, this smooth, monotonous expanse was broken by
that Mountain which had guided us from afar, the House of Fire. It was
a great distance from us, more than a hundred miles, I should say, yet
even so a most majestic sight in that clear air. Many leagues from the
base of its peak the ground began to rise in brown and rugged
hillocks, from which sprang the holy Mountain itself, a white and
dazzling point that soared full twenty thousand feet into the heavens.

Yes, and there upon the nether lip of its crater stood the gigantic
pillar, surmounted by a yet more gigantic loop of virgin rock, whereof
the blackness stood out grimly against the blue of the sky beyond and
the blinding snow beneath.

We gazed at it with awe, as well we might, this beacon of our hopes
that for aught we knew might also prove their monument, feeling even
then that yonder our fate would declare itself. I noted further that
all those with us did it reverence by bowing their heads as they
caught sight of the peak, and by laying the first finger of the right
hand across the first finger of the left, a gesture, as we afterwards
discovered, designed to avert its evil influence. Yes, even Simbri
bowed, a yielding to inherited superstition of which I should scarcely
have suspected him.

"Have you ever journeyed to that Mountain?" asked Leo of him.

Simbri shook his head and answered evasively.

"The people of the Plain do not set foot upon the Mountain. Among its
slopes beyond the river which washes them, live hordes of brave and
most savage men, with whom we are oftentimes at war; for when they are
hungry they raid our cattle and our crops. Moreover, there, when the
Mountain labours, run red streams of molten rock, and now and again
hot ashes fall that slay the traveller."

"Do the ashes ever fall in your country?" asked Leo.

"They have been known to do so when the Spirit of the Mountain is
angry, and that is why we fear her."

"Who is this Spirit?" said Leo eagerly.

"I do not know, lord," he answered with impatience. "Can men see a

"/You/ look as though you might, and had, not so long ago," replied
Leo, fixing his gaze on the old man's waxen face and uneasy eyes. For
now their horny calm was gone from the eyes of Simbri, which seemed as
though they had beheld some sight that haunted him.

"You do me too much honour, lord," he replied; "my skill and vision do
not reach so far. But see, here is the landing-stage, where boats
await us, for the rest of our journey is by water."

These boats proved to be roomy and comfortable, having flat bows and
sterns, since, although sometimes a sail was hoisted, they were
designed for towing, not to be rowed with oars. Leo and I entered the
largest of them, and to our joy were left alone except for the

Behind us was another boat, in which were attendants and slaves, and
some men who looked like soldiers, for they carried bows and swords.
Now the ponies were taken from the palanquins, that were packed away,
and ropes of green hide, fastened to iron rings in the prows of the
boats, were fixed to the towing tackle with which the animals had been
reharnessed. Then we started, the ponies, two arranged tandem fashion
to each punt, trotting along a well-made towing path that was
furnished with wooden bridges wherever canals or tributary streams
entered the main river.

"Thank Heaven," said Leo, "we are together again at last! Do you
remember, Horace, that when we entered the land of Kor it was thus, in
a boat? The tale repeats itself."

"I can quite believe it," I answered. "I can believe anything. Leo, I
say that we are but gnats meshed in a web, and yonder Khania is the
spider and Simbri the Shaman guards the net. But tell me all you
remember of what has happened to you, and be quick, for I do not know
how long they may leave us alone."

"Well," he said, "of course I remember our arrival at that Gate after
the lady and the old man had pulled us out of the river, and, Horace,
talking of spiders reminds me of hanging at the end of that string of
yak's hide. Not that I need much reminding, for I am not likely to
forget it. Do you know I cut the rope because I felt that I was going
mad, and wished to die sane. What happened to you? Did you slip?"

"No; I jumped after you. It seemed best to end together, so that we
might begin again together."

"Brave old Horace!" he said affectionately, the tears starting to his
grey eyes.

"Well, never mind all that," I broke in; "you see you were right when
you said that we should get through, and we have. Now for your tale."

"It is interesting, but not very long," he answered, colouring. "I
went to sleep, and when I woke it was to find a beautiful woman
leaning over me, and Horace--at first I thought that it was--you know
who, and that she kissed me; but perhaps it was all a dream."

"It was no dream," I answered. "I saw it."

"I am sorry to hear it--very sorry. At any rate there was the
beautiful woman--the Khania--for I saw her plenty of times afterwards,
and talked to her in my best modern Greek--by the way, Ayesha knew the
old Greek; that's curious."

"She knew several of the ancient tongues, and so did other people. Go

"Well, she nursed me very kindly, but, so far as I know, until last
night there was nothing more affectionate, and I had sense enough to
refuse to talk about our somewhat eventful past. I pretended not to
understand, said that we were explorers, etc., and kept asking her
where you were, for I forgot to say I found that you had gone. I think
that she grew rather angry with me, for she wanted to know something,
and, as you can guess, I wanted to know a good deal. But I could get
nothing out of her except that she was the Khania--a person in
authority. There was no doubt about that, for when one of those slaves
or servants came in and interrupted her while she was trying to draw
the facts out of me, she called to some of her people to throw him out
of the window, and he only saved himself by going down the stairs very

"Well, I could make nothing of her, and she could make little of me,
though why she should be so tenderly interested in a stranger, I don't
know--unless, unless--oh! who is she, Horace?"

"If you will go on I will tell you what I think presently. One tale at
a time."

"Very good. I got quite well and strong, comparatively speaking, till
the climax last night, which upset me again. After that old prophet,
Simbri, had brought me my supper, just as I was thinking of going to
sleep, the Khania came in alone, dressed like a queen. I can tell you
she looked really royal, like a princess in a fairy book, with a crown
on, and her chestnut black hair flowing round her.

"Well, Horace, then she began to make love to me in a refined sort of
way, or so I thought, looked at me and sighed, saying that we had
known each other in the past--very well indeed I gathered--and
implying that she wished to continue our friendship. I fenced with her
as best I could; but a man feels fairly helpless lying on his back
with a very handsome and very imperial-looking lady standing over him
and paying him compliments.

"The end of it was that, driven to it by her questions and to stop
that sort of thing, I told her that I was looking for my wife, whom I
had lost, for, after all, Ayesha is my wife, Horace. She smiled and
suggested that I need /not/ look far; in short, that the lost wife was
already found--in herself, who had come to save me from death in the
river. Indeed, she spoke with such conviction that I grew sure that
she was not merely amusing herself, and felt very much inclined to
believe her, for, after all, Ayesha may be changed now.

"Then while I was at my wits' end I remembered the lock of hair--all
that remains to us of /her/," and Leo touched his breast. "I drew it
out and compared it with the Khania's, and at the sight of it she
became quite different, jealous, I suppose, for it is longer than
hers, and not in the least like.

"Horace, I tell you that the touch of that lock of hair--for she did
touch it--appeared to act upon her nature like nitric acid upon sham
gold. It turned it black; all the bad in her came out. In her anger
her voice sounded coarse; yes, she grew almost vulgar, and, as you
know, when Ayesha was in a rage she might be wicked as we understand
it, and was certainly terrible, but she was never either coarse or
vulgar, any more than lightning is.

"Well, from that moment I was sure that whoever this Khania may be,
she had nothing to do with Ayesha; they are so different that they
never could have been the same--like the hair. So I lay quiet and let
her talk, and coax, and threaten on, until at length she drew herself
up and marched from the room, and I heard her lock the door behind
her. That's all I have to tell you, and quite enough too, for I don't
think that the Khania has done with me, and, to say the truth, I am
afraid of her."

"Yes," I said, "quite enough. Now sit still, and don't start or talk
loud, for that steersman is probably a spy, and I can feel old
Simbri's eyes fixed upon our backs. Don't interrupt either, for our
time alone may be short."

Then I set to work and told him everything I knew, while he listened
in blank astonishment.

"Great Heavens! what a tale," he exclaimed as I finished. "Now, who is
this Hesea who sent the letter from the Mountain? And who, who is the

"Who does your instinct tell you that she is, Leo?"

"Amenartas?" he whispered doubtfully. "The woman who wrote the
/Sherd/, whom Ayesha said was the Egyptian princess--my wife two
thousand years ago? Amenartas re-born?"

I nodded. "I think so. Why not? As I have told you again and again, I
have always been certain of one thing, that if we were allowed to see
the next act of the piece, we should find Amenartas, or rather the
spirit of Amenartas, playing a leading part in it; you will remember I
wrote as much in that record.

"If the old Buddhist monk Kou-en could remember /his/ past, as
thousands of them swear that they do, and be sure of his identity
continued from that past, why should not this woman, with so much at
stake, helped as she is by the wizardry of the Shaman, her uncle,
faintly remember hers?

"At any rate, Leo, why should she not still be sufficiently under its
influence to cause her, without any fault or seeking of her own, to
fall madly in love at first sight with a man whom, after all, she has
always loved?"

"The argument seems sound enough, Horace, and if so I am sorry for the
Khania, who hasn't much choice in the matter--been forced into it, so
to speak."

"Yes, but meanwhile your foot is in a trap again. Guard yourself, Leo,
guard yourself. I believe that this is a trial sent to you, and
doubtless there will be more to follow. But I believe also that it
would be better for you to die than to make any mistake."

"I know it well," he answered; "and you need not be afraid. Whatever
this Khania may have been to me in the past--if she was anything at
all--that story is done with. I seek Ayesha, and Ayesha alone, and
Venus herself shall not tempt me from her."

Then we began to speak with hope and fear of that mysterious Hesea who
had sent the letter from the Mountain, commanding the Shaman Simbri to
meet us: the priestess or spirit whom he declared was "mighty from of
old" and had "servants in the earth and air."

Presently the prow of our barge bumped against the bank of the river,
and looking round I saw that Simbri had left the boat in which he sat
and was preparing to enter ours. This he did, and, placing himself
gravely on a seat in front of us, explained that nightfall was coming
on, and he wished to give us his company and protection through the

"And to see that we do not give him the slip in it," muttered Leo.

Then the drivers whipped up their ponies, and we went on again.

"Look behind you," said Simbri presently, "and you will see the city
where you will sleep to-night."

We turned ourselves, and there, about ten miles away, perceived a
flat-roofed town of considerable, though not of very great size. Its
position was good, for it was set upon a large island that stood a
hundred feet or more above the level of the plain, the river dividing
into two branches at the foot of it, and, as we discovered afterwards,
uniting again beyond.

The vast mound upon which this city was built had the appearance of
being artificial, but very possibly the soil whereof it was formed had
been washed up in past ages during times of flood, so that from a
mudbank in the centre of the broad river it grew by degrees to its
present proportions. With the exception of a columned and towered
edifice that crowned the city and seemed to be encircled by gardens,
we could see no great buildings in the place.

"How is the city named?" asked Leo of Simbri.

"Kaloon," he answered, "as was all this land even when my fore-
fathers, the conquerors, marched across the mountains and took it more
than two thousand years ago. They kept the ancient title, but the
territory of the Mountain they called Hes, because they said that the
loop upon yonder peak was the symbol of a goddess of this name whom
their general worshipped."

"Priestesses still live there, do they not?" said Leo, trying in his
turn to extract the truth.

"Yes, and priests also. The College of them was established by the
conquerors, who subdued all the land. Or rather, it took the place of
another College of those who fashioned the Sanctuary and the Temple,
whose god was the fire in the Mountain, as it is that of the people of
Kaloon to-day."

"Then who is worshipped there now?"

"The goddess Hes, it is said; but we know little of the matter, for
between us and the Mountain folk there has been enmity for ages. They
kill us and we kill them, for they are jealous of their shrine, which
none may visit save by permission, to consult the Oracle and to make
prayer or offering in times of calamity, when a Khan dies, or the
waters of the river sink and the crops fail, or when ashes fall and
earthquakes shake the land, or great sickness comes. Otherwise, unless
they attack us, we leave them alone, for though every man is trained
to arms, and can fight if need be, we are a peaceful folk, who
cultivate the soil from generation to generation, and thus grow rich.
Look round you. Is it not a scene of peace?"

We stood up in the boat and gazed about us at the pastoral prospect.
Everywhere appeared herds of cattle feeding upon meadow lands, or
troops of mules and horses, or square fields sown with corn and
outlined by trees. Village folk, also, clad in long, grey gowns, were
labouring on the land, or, their day's toil finished, driving their
beasts homewards along roads built upon the banks of the irrigation
dykes, towards the hamlets that were placed on rising knolls amidst
tall poplar groves.

In its sharp contrast with the arid deserts and fearful mountains
amongst which we had wandered for so many years, this country struck
us as most charming, and indeed, seen by the red light of the sinking
sun on that spring day, even as beautiful with the same kind of beauty
which is to be found in Holland. One could understand too that these
landowners and peasant-farmers would by choice be men of peace, and
what a temptation their wealth must offer to the hungry, half-savage
tribes of the mountains.

Also it was easy to guess when the survivors of Alexander's legions
under their Egyptian general burst through the iron band of snow-clad
hills and saw this sweet country, with its homes, its herds, and its
ripening grass, that they must have cried with one voice, "We will
march and fight and toil no more. Here we will sit us down to live and
die." Thus doubtless they did, taking them wives from among the women
of the people of the land which they had conquered--perhaps after a
single battle.

Now as the light faded the wreaths of smoke which hung over the
distant Fire-mountain began to glow luridly. Redder and more angry did
they become while the darkness gathered, till at length they seemed to
be charged with pulsing sheets of flame propelled from the womb of the
volcano, which threw piercing beams of light through the eye of the
giant loop that crowned its brow. Far, far fled those beams, making a
bright path across the land, and striking the white crests of the
bordering wall of mountains. High in the air ran that path, over the
dim roofs of the city of Kaloon, over the river, yes, straight above
us, over the mountains, and doubtless--though there we could not
follow them--across the desert to that high eminence on its farther
side where we had lain bathed in their radiance. It was a wondrous and
most impressive sight, one too that filled our companions with fear,
for the steersmen in our boats and the drivers on the towing-path
groaned aloud and began to utter prayers. "What do they say?" asked
Leo of Simbri.

"They say, lord, that the Spirit of the Mountain is angry, and passes
down yonder flying light that is called the Road of Hes to work some
evil to our land. Therefore they pray her not to destroy them."

"Then does that light not always shine thus?" he asked again.

"Nay, but seldom. Once about three months ago, and now to-night, but
before that not for years. Let us pray that it portends no misfortune
to Kaloon and its inhabitants."

For some minutes this fearsome illumination continued, then it ceased
as suddenly as it had begun, and there remained of it only the dull
glow above the crest of the peak.

Presently the moon rose, a white, shining ball, and by its rays we
perceived that we drew near to the city. But there was still something
left for us to see before we reached its shelter. While we sat quietly
in the boat--for the silence was broken only by the lapping of the
still waters against its sides and the occasional splash of the
slackened tow-line upon their surface--we heard a distant sound as of
a hunt in full cry.

Nearer and nearer it came, its volume swelling every moment, till it
was quite close at last. Now echoing from the trodden earth of the
towing-path--not that on which our ponies travelled, but the other on
the west bank of the river--was heard the beat of the hoofs of a horse
galloping furiously. Presently it appeared, a fine, white animal, on
the back of which sat a man. It passed us like a flash, but as he went
by the man lifted himself and turned his head, so that we saw his face
in the moonlight; saw also the agony of fear that was written on it
and in his eyes.

He had come out of the darkness. He was gone into the darkness, but
after him swelled that awful music. Look! a dog appeared, a huge, red
dog, that dropped its foaming muzzle to the ground as it galloped,
then lifted it and uttered a deep-throated, bell-like bay. Others
followed, and yet others: in all there must have been a hundred of
them, every one baying as it took the scent.

"/The death-hounds!/" I muttered, clasping Leo by the arm.

"Yes," he answered, "they are running that poor devil. Here comes the

As he spoke there appeared a second figure, splendidly mounted, a
cloak streaming from his shoulders, and in his hand a long whip, which
he waved. He was big but loosely jointed, and as he passed he turned
his face also, and we saw that it was that of a madman. There could be
no doubt of it; insanity blazed in those hollow eyes and rang in that
savage, screeching laugh.

"The Khan! The Khan!" said Simbri, bowing, and I could see that he was

Now he too was gone, and after him came his guards. I counted eight of
them, all carrying whips, with which they flogged their horses.

"What does this mean, friend Simbri?" I asked, as the sounds grew
faint in the distance.

"It means, friend Holly," he answered, "that the Khan does justice in
his own fashion--hunting to death one that has angered him."

"What then is his crime? And who is that poor man?"

"He is a great lord of this land, one of the royal kinsmen, and the
crime for which he has been condemned is that he told the Khania he
loved her, and offered to make war upon her husband and kill him, if
she would promise herself to him in marriage. But she hated the man,
as she hates all men, and brought the matter before the Khan. That is
all the story."

"Happy is that prince who has so virtuous a wife!" I could not help
saying unctuously, but with meaning, and the old wretch of a Shaman
turned his head at my words and began to stroke his white beard.

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