CHAPTER III.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 7417, 31 May 1902, Page 1

CHAPTER 111.

A wilderness of stone! Gigantio cliffs rising* six hundred feet into the air; great ijpostT- boulders lying scattered about, and vWsaped up,< like potatoes flung suddenly ;.fr6ma.sack; countless heaps of small pebvWes and broken shale, continually shifting lMis? running down in- little- streams, as ii 'ioncheA by tome unseen Soot. Nothing but stone, ascending and ascending until the white snow covered its bareness, and tne great peak of the Kub Hazar^ towered far above the clouds into the sunlight, and watched over the most desolate mountain range? of ail Persia.' . At thfc foot of the mountains th© .vegeta!tion grew thick and luxuriant; the low•«r slopea, running gently into .the valley, •like the roots of a great tree, were green Tand cheerful.. But here all life seemed to ihave died,: anda barren land of loneliness l<was piled" up,' tier upon tier, almost as far as the eye could, reach. It was as if some 'terrible volcanic upheaval had swept away all life,'■whether of plant or animal, and "torn the whole surface' of the country into ' 'deep gorges and crumbling 'cliffsif-'.. There was almost complete: silence, only broken ' now and then by the cry of a raven or the rustling of a small stream of shale as it slid 'down the mountain side. V- / " ' ' It was tlie last place on earth'whfere anyone "^wpuld expect to find a 1 human: being, ■onlesS, indeed, it were a criminal fleeing "his fellow men. Not only was there 'no chance of supporting life for. any time, ilmt thk difiiculti«sin: the path of the traveU 'ler'were; almost insurmountable. On the level" ground hi»: progress was hindered by ' 'the" great boulders worn smooth and slip•p^y by the storms of centuries, and on the slopes, evien if he were not confronted; by aia 1 inaccessible cliff, his feet sank several inches into the loose shale, and at every step forward the bank quivered} and slid sway beneath his feet. :." Yet there was a man creeping and crawling along over all the obstacles like some great insect. He progressed upwards at the rate of about a quarter-of-a-mila in an ?hour; at one time creeping between boulders, or cautiously scaling them with hands .that'must have been as tenacious as rbe •:' feet of a fly; at another swinging himself 'from'cleft to cleft along the sheer face of 'the^rock. Any moment a slip .might have ; meant instant death* or the more terrible agony of slow * starvation with broken. ; limbs, through burning days and bitter ;" But never for a second did ho ' seem. to.lose his footholoT, or even hesitate Ton hia course: Very slowly, but with _ab< 'solute surehese, he moved on to his destination—if, indeed, a man could have a destinatjon in so strange a place. ' bnce or twice he stopped for breath, 'and rubbed his hands swiftly over his 'brown, naked atms, to relax the strain on j , the muscles, luer., when he had done the ••ametotheVmuscles of his legs, and looked r at the fastenings, iof a- curiqus little straw j .-basket; he re:BUm'edi his/3ourn*y, V ' I ■I '• TlEe'eun was setting •now^ and the valley •l)€lbw -was: quite dark. The shadow of the ; night was running up the mountain swiftly, ; 'Kk'e the dark waters of a rising tide. For "a moment or two the rocks were tinged: with fire, and then the light died from j them, and.one by one they faded into the ! greynessi Then the higher summits of the mountains.glowed with crimson and gold; and for long after the night had come, the t great peak of the Rub Hazar stood out like a rose coloured spire against the 'sky. ; ' The sunset, had lit up the swarthy j features of the traveller for a short time, "and then had' left him in the twilight; but he still moved on, though bis dburse was now.a thousand times more difficult. tEJven his indomitable energy realised this, 'and perching himself on a ledge of rock, tie took a<piece of food from his pouch, abd chewed it contemplatively. Then unhooking the little straw basket from round his neck, he put it up to his ear. Something rustled and stirred'within, and apparently ■atkfied at the sound, replaced the.basket,. iipd jJwaited • with patience for the - m^on ;to rise above the great spiir of.theriSioHi'Ud; Mountains. It was already sniping on' theflatcountry beneath him, and was flooding the valley with its light, and it was not long before it'surmounted the cliffs, and he could, continue on his way; He proceeded still more slowly than before. The moon, even when it is at its full, as it was tha^ night, is not a trustworthy light to travel by r and the deep snadows which it' casts" are even more dangerous and uncertain than total darkness. So he redoubled his caution, but never faltered on his upward journey. They say that some of the wild native races 'of the East have an extraordinary power 'of sight, sharpened by long and'continual practice to a pitch of esjpellence that is incredible, to more civilised races. And certainly no European^ however sure of foot, or steady of nerve* could have undertaken that ascent in the moonlight. But this man crept on,l, absolutely undismayed by eny difliculties, and with apparently no more concern on his face than if he were walking on a country road in the daytime. At last, after the ascent of an almost -perpendicular cliff, the traveller came to a neat table-land, stretching nearly half-a- --' mile to the base of still further heights, that roie black and misty into the moonJoght. Here he stopped and scanned the ■tone plateau, as if in search of something. -Boulders were scattered everywhere over the rocky surface, and here and there gleamed the'white bones of small animals that the vultures had carried to these heights to devour. But nothing moved Sv'.that silent wilderness. . He gave an exclamation of disappointment, and flitting >tlown on a. rock, waited patiently with closed eyes. For nearly an hour he sa-t thus, as motionless as the rock •round him.; Then something dark rbse with a swish, and fluttered' into the air a hundred yards away, and there was a flapping «f wings overhead; He looked up, and •omething passed between him and the moon. It was a vulture. Then another soared up, and yet another, until the whole air seemed to move with the beating of their wings, and they circled away In hundreds into the darkness. The man looked keenly across the tableland, for he knew that something must have disturbed them. For a few seconds his keen Wesight could detect nothing, but suddenly he caught sight of a small white Object about three hundred yards off. Ii Bright have been merely a skeleton, but it eeemedmore solid and more definite, and »yen as he looked, it moved, and began to come a few yards nearer to him with a lidiculons hopping motion. Every now and then it stopped, but only for a few ■econds, and then it came on again, and when it was within a hundred yards, he ctfrild see that it was some small white -animal. He reached out his hand to pick tip a large stone. He was not quite sure *yet what it was, and he thought perhaps It would be well to kill it. , But when it approached a little closer, lie «aw that it was only a small white monkey, and he laid down the stone. The 1

animal advanced to within ten paces of him and sat down, mowing and grimacing. : He rose, and moved towards it, but as he advanced, it retreated across the plateau, ; and made towards' the great mass of rock that towered against the sky half-a-mOe away. ,He followed it in silence, for now he knew that it was the guide for which he had been waiting. Before long they had passed out of the" moonlight into the shadow of the great cliff, and the animal, became only a blurred white speck in the darkness. But the man kept his eye fixed upon it; as it danced be- • lore him like 6ome will-o'-the-wisp, and in a few minutes a solid wall .of rock -nearly one thousand feet in height rose within a couple of yards of ham. The animal stopped for a few seconds and touched the rock with its paw; then it scampered along to the left, and the man followed until they ; reached an opening. It "was a rartow.ca.asm. ,no more than twenty feet in width— a mere split in the huge mass of stone, as though the mountain Had been dropped on the earth and cracked in. two. ' t . The animal disappeared into the darkness of the gorge, but the man' kept close behind it. The two walls rose on each side.. of him to so great. a height that the 'moonlit sky above looked no more than, a thread of dark blue across the blackness. He could not see an inch 'before his face, and only the soft patter of little feet and the occasional crunch of small pebbles told him that his guide was still moving before him. He laid one hand on the smooth wall of the rock and felt his way cautiously. It was no easy, journey, in the absolute darkness ; he continually struck his foot against large stones and stumbled to his kneee; and now and then be encountered sharp projecting points of rock that cut into his flesh. But, torn and bleeding; he went slowly on, and though his limbs .dragged wearily, he seemed to be animated by some indomitable purpose. ' : , |. -Suddenly he fell over a large boulder and one of his hands touched something soft and furry. His guide had evidently stopped, and was close to- him. Rising to his feet he spread out both his arms, and, to his surprise, touched the rock on both sides. He had not noticed how the gorge had narrowed;' -for while moving he had only kept Ms hand on one side. It was not more* thani five feet in width at this point. The animal made a curious little chattering i noise:, and, be waited to see if it would move j on.""- ■(-When about a minute had elapsed, he i stooped, down and again his hand encoun- ; tered the. soft fur; it was evident that it was going no further down the ravine. He began to feel all round him. for some opening, but there was apparently nothing but solid rock. Then ag^in be touched: the animal, but this tim> it was on a level with his head and clinging to the rock. He understood that he had to ascend. He felt carefully, and found, that it was perched upon an iron bar driven firmly into the stone, and projecting from it about eight inches. There were no other bars below it, ,but, drawing himself up with both hands, he found another above and managed to secure a. foothold on the first one. Then I hfe commenced the , ascent. The bars were ; set one after the- other about a foot apart. It was child's play after what he had gone through, and no more difficult than walking up a ladder. He ascended quite five hundred feet, then-, as be reached one of his hands up .to catch hold of the next bar he encountered nothing. . . , "J[e mftved his Hind' a little to the left towards the face^^ of the rbeka^d still there was nothing; but, feeling cautibusly about, he ' touched; a small soft paw", arid found that the animal was sitting' upon the floor of some opening in the cliff. " He quickly clambered into the tunnel-^f or such, it was ; —and rose cautipuJdy-stp hisfeet.. 'H^found that he could stand upright and touch the rock on both sides. The darkness was absolute and the silence only broken. by his own footsteps as he made pis way slowly into ; the heart of the mountain. Bub when he had proceeded about a quarter of a mile, he heard the sound of hundreds of little voices in the distance. He ' stopped to listen: The sound came rapidly closer and closer, and with it the noise of hundreds of little footfalls'- pattering and scratching on the rocks. Then, as he moved on. innumerable little soft -thdngs began to bump against' his legs and hamper his progress. Some of them clambered up his body, swinging themselves on to his shoulders, clinging to his arms and fingering the straw- basket. One even perched itself on his head and pawed his hair and eyes. ■■He -^topped; and, for the first time on his joiirneya sickening sense of fear came over hinV He knew what they <were— merely a swarm of harmless monkeys.- He was a ■Hindoo, and had seen many thousands of them in his own country ; 'but he knew that no monkeys were to be found in Persia, and this fact, combined with the darkness and) the sense of his helpless position in the heart of these many million tons of rock, began to work upon his nerves. Besides, he felt a shrinking disgust at being literally overrun by all these animals. The air was heavy with the smell of them ; as he moved he seemed to plough through a sea of fur ; he carefully shuffled his feet along the floor and pushed them aside, squealing and chattering, only to have them pressing in again more closely and thickly than before. And no sooner did one spring from sns ©houlder than another ran swiftly up his back and took its place. At last he could stand it no longer, and) standing still, he struck out with his hands, and cried aloud with fear. The noise and chattering only redoubled, and they sprang so thickly upon him that he sank to hits knees. Then he heard' the sound of something like a human, laugh, and before he could cry out a second time there was a swift rush of animals past him, the pattering of feet died away in the distance, andi foe was alone again in the darkness. •-.,.'•■ He rose to his feet panting and gasping for breath, and stretched out his hand to lean against the wall— -but his fingers touched nothing. He moved several yards in every direction, groping for something solid, and lifted! his hand above his head. But all the rock seemed to have vanished, except that which lay beneath his feet. The roof above him might have been the roof of heaven, only he knew £hat no sky was ever so dark as that inky blackness. Then an idea seized him, for he was not without resource. He gave a sharp cry and listened. "i'.z sound echoed and re-echoed, and seemed to reverberate from rock to rock in the distance, until it died away in a low murmur. His keen ear told him something of what he wished to know, and he realised that he was in some enormoup cavern, stretching far away on all sides and rising above his head to a height of probably I several hundred feet. But- that was not the only answer to Mb cry. For scarcely had the echoes died when he. heard a small laugh close behind him. "Who art thou?" cried a clear voice, speaking in the Zend language — the ancient tongue of Persia. "And why dost thou cry aloud in the place of silence?" > " I am Deva Dacobra t the Hindoo," the man answered in the same tongue. "Whom dost thou seek?" the voice asked. " I seek the Priests of Ahriman." . " The temple of Ahriman is here, and we ire his servants, and we do his .will," the voice continued. "Why hast thou cpme?" "Pot the gift of life, as Zaki, the son. of Hasan, told me." . ; ,;'.;;, "It is well-— if thou wilt pay the pnce?" : ' "I" will pay the price," the man answered, " and will do it gladly-" As he spoke,

a hand touched his arm by the elbow and did down to the wrist. The hand was cold and hard like a hand of bone, but the man • did not flinch, though the grip tightened on his flesh like a vice. " Thy hand is in mine," said the voice, "and thou wilt speak the truth. Hast thou prayed to Him whom thou knowest of?" "I have prayed thrice three hundred prayers." "And thy life — hast thou lived it faithfully and fruitfully for him?" "I have earnestly tried to do so." "Hast thou slain?" "The blood of seven deaths is on the hand you hold." " Is it the bipod of the innocent?" " Innocent and harmless to me and mine," the man answered. " Hast thou defrauded the widow and the orphan ? Hast thou (betrayed thy friend ? Has* tkou. been. <& scourge and a strife to all % land!" . "My name is cursed by all who know me." "By all, Dacobra,?" the voice repeated, and the 'bony fingers tightened on his pulse. The man was silent and (his hand tried to shake itself free. \ " Answer, Dacohra," the voice said sternly - .-'. ' :■■'. •■.'•.• ; ' " By all but one," the man said in a low voice. ■'.«■■ " Is there any Eying soul who can recall one kind ■word, one gentle action of thine?" • "There is one," the man said between his teeth. ; I'lt is well Dacobra," the voice replied. Still it were better for thee, if there were not one." The man's muscles tightened and he drew himself up to iris full height. "I aan a ma©," he" cried, " though for this one thing I have made myself less human than the jackals that prowl about these mountains. Since I was fourteen years of age and I exchanged my soul for wisdom, my life has been a curse to all who knew m«; : my path has 'been a path of fire and sword, of rdbbery and violence, of deceit and dishonour, of broken faith and shameful lust. 'My father died 'by any hand 1 , cursing mo -with his last breath. ■ My j mother fled the house a -shrieking, .maniac, j when she saw his blood upon my hands; and -the great river that jbore her body to I the sea was moxe merciful to (her than I. ■ My sister starved upon the mountain rather i?han be near me. I have been hunted as a beast of prey, 'but I have rent the hunter in pieces. And 1 all this -have I done, for the love of wisdom and the reward' thou canst, give me. Yet I am still a man* and there was one I could! not harm'; for> she has shared any soul with the love -of knowledge --and I Vve Iher." ' , ' I ' "Her name," the. voice asked sternly. | •'Zuhrahj the daughter of Sadik the silversmith. But there -was only one — there was only one." ? ' . "It. is well," said : the voice, "and those who give theirlives to the pursuit of knowledge shall ;ha<ve their reward. Come with me." ; Bactfbra felt a pressure upon his army' ana followed 1 where he was led into the darkness. The voice spoke no mow to him, and , when he had gone, a few hundred yards he felt the fingers loosen on. his arm and he was told not to move from the place where j he stood. Then the footsteps died away in the distance, and he was alone. Before many minutes (had elapsed, 'however, he heard 1 the sound of several feet coming towards him, and as they came nearer 'he heard voices, and heard, too, the j sound" 6* something being dragged -along j the flpofctowaivis him. Then, one by one, the .people — whoever they were — began to piss him, and- afe^eabh he felt the touch of a small cold hand upon his aim. He counted sixty-two, and then the sixty- j third grasped his hand and stopped. j "We" are here, Dacobra; the circle is complete," said ' the vqicey and he recognised it as the voice heh^d heard before. " Thou , 6tandest in the presence of the. j Givers of Life. In the darkness we were bpr.n,.in.the darkness haye we lived, in the darkness' we shall live for ever." "In darkness we were tow*, in darkness | have we lived, in darkness we shall live for ever," repeated the other voices, and the man realised from the sound that they j formed a circle round him.- ' "Thou has come for the gift of a life. | Dost thou know the price?" . "The price of my «oul and of my own life, when I am dead.""Dosfc thou understand that thy life, even as this life we give thee, will pass from form to form forever ; that we bestow it where we will ; that it is ours, and that there will be no sleep for thee after death, and no rest for all eternity?" j " I understand." ! "Dost "thou understand that this life is; given into thy power 1 for but sixty- three years, and that ab the end of these years we shall claim it from thee a gain?" j "I I . understand." • " Dost thou swear to pay the price willingly when the time shall come?" " I swear it," the man answered. "Kneel at my feet, and place my hand to thy lips, and swear it by him whose servants we are." " Dacobra placed the cold skinny hand to his mouth, and it seemed to' him to tarte of blood. Then he swore the oath.. As he did so, he felt a dozen hands laid u^on his head, and a shudder passed through his frame. ! " "Rise; Deva Dacobra," said the voice. "The power is in thee. Thou canst bestow the life where thou wilt. • To no living thing canst thou give it, but only to the dead thing tbaV has once lived; and the dead rhall live again with the life that thou givest it." l Deva Dacobra, ro?e to his feet and unhooked the little basket from his shoulder. " As Sadik, the son of Hasan, told me," he said, and as I read in my searches for the truth; I have brought this with me." The basket Was. taken from his hand. "A snake," said the priest, and a low laugh echoed from lip to lip round the circle. "It is alive, and it must die." " Be careful, great priest, there is poison in its fangs. The priest laughed again, and Dacobra could hear the stirring of I leaves and the low hissing of the reptile. Then the hissing died away, and he heard a soft thud upon the floor. He involuntarily stepped back, for his legs were bare and an angry snake is not a pleasant neigh- | bour in the darkness. "It will not harm thee, Dacobra. Take it in thy hand." Dacobra went on his knees and groped cautiously on the rocky floor till he found something like a ball of scaly, rope, quivering and writhing and knotting itselt together in the agony of death. He shuddered and drew his hand away. - I "Take it in thy hand, Dacobra," the priest' repeated. The young man touched it again, and as he did so, the muscles relaxed, the knots uncoiled, and it lay limp and lifeless in his hand. "Now the other hand. Dacobra," and the priest took hold of his fingers, and leading him a few steps forward, told him to kneel. Then the man felt another hand placed in his, and soft, warm fingers, like the delicate fingers of a child,, or woman, touched his own. "Thou hast but to will the passing of the life and it shall pass," said the priest. ' "It is a woman," raid Dacobra in a low tone of horror, dropping the hand and passing his fingers swiftly over the face. "It is a woman, and she will die."" "Thou hftsfboiasted of the hardness of thy heart," the priest said with a laugh; f "moreover, the life. is not hers. This girl died three years ago in the night, but before dawn came we gave her life again, and [her father never knew that his daughter j

had been dead. The life is ours, and we give it now to thee." "Yet I might take her with me,' Dacobra said, lifting the 'limp hand once more. "It is a fairer casket than the snake." "Thou art a philosopher, Dacobra, but still a man. Thou wilt find it more^easy to take her life from her in the dark." "And the woman?" "Her body will return to the grave, where it should have lain these last three years." "It is well," Dacobra replied ; "the reptile will be more convenient for my purposes," andi as he spoke he willed that the life should .pass. A slight shudder passed through the frame of the woman, and the hand that lay so lightly in his own gripped his" fingers for a few seconds like a vice of steel, till he almost caH&d -oafc with the paia. Then the grip relaxed, and the arm dropped heavily to the floor. As it did so, he heard a faint hissing, and the cold coils of the snake stirred in his hand ; he felt quickly f or the basket, dropped the reptile in, and closed the lid. ■ "It is over," said the priest. " Pray thou for so painless a death." Dacobra was silent. He remained on his knees, and out of curiosity touched the face and body of the woman. They were still warm, but the heart had ceased to beat. The priest divined his thoughts. " Thou wouldlst like to 100 lon thy handiwork. Daoobra? Perhaps thou dost not believe that she is dead?" "Yes, I would! look," the young, man answered. A strong, desire had come over him to see £b<> face whose light he had quenched for ever. It was more a wish' to see the evidence of his power than any morbid curiosity. "Thou mayest look," the priest answered. "We fear not the light, for we cannot see. Dacobra fumbled in his pouch, and drawing out a flint and steel, struck them together till a spark had caught the tinder. Then he fanned it with his breath till he was able to ignite some resinous shreds of pine that were thrust into his hand. He cast them flaming on the floor, and lighted a short torch df thickly tarred rope. • Then he turned to the body, but someone had covered it over with a thick white cloth. . Jt was a strange sight that, he now saw before 'him. So vast was the cavern in which he stood that the flame of the torch seemed only to be lost in the awful depth of blackness," and the light fell neither on roof nor wall. Around him stofld a circle of men clad entirely in white. Whey were all very small of stature, -and not one of -them could have been more than four feet in height. Their faces were old and wrinkled, ■ and absolutely hairless, and their skin of a dead white colour. Their eyes were also white t and iseemed to be covered with same sort of scale, like the eyes of those fishes which have 'been found in subterranean pools. It seemed to him that their heads resembled the skulls of dead men.. One of them stood apart from the others within the circle, and Dacobra supposed that he was the one who had been addressing him. On the floor, a- few feet from him, lay the motionless. body under. the' white cloth. ■ And in the distance, as far. as he could see in all, directions, small white shadows seemed' to be flitting in and out from the darkness to the light. He held the torch above his head and looked' at the body/ ■■ ,■ ' ,• . •'•.-.■•. ; ■;■' ". ;:':i "Weuldsfc thott see, Dacobra?" said the: priest, "or art thou afraid) {6 look?" Then he moved towards 5 the young man and ktood by his side. ' • . v I am not a child and afraid of the dead," Dacobra answered. '.' ' For reply the priest unhooked the basket from the young man's shoulder, . and held it to his eat. Then he moved a.way, gave it to one of his companions in the circle, and returned beside the body. • "Thou. canst look, Dacobra," he said. Dacobra stooped down, and taking hold of one of the corners of the cloth, swept it from the facej and looked.. It was the fact of Zuhrah, the, daughter of Sadik the silversmith — the face of the only living soul he had ever. loved. He gave one sharp, cry of pain and horror, and the torch dropped from his nerveless fingers. It had scarcely touched the ground when a foot was placed on the flame and he was again in darkness. For a few minutes his reason struggled against the flood that was overwhelming him. He muttered to himself " I can save her. I can save her. The power that took away can give again." His hand fumbled wildly for the little basket j then he remembered that it was gone. The priests bad torseen this, and had' taken it from him. 'He leant forward and kissed the cold face, and rising to his feet, shrieked curses and lamentations through the echoing vault. • He strode like a madman from place to place, his muscular fingers groping for something to kill. ' His hand encountered nothing ; the circle of priests had disappeared. He was alone wilh the dead body, to which he returned again and again, now taking it up in his arms, now kissing the face, now . caressing the cold fingers. Then in his mad delirium he lost his bearings and ■ could not find the body, and wandered to and fro, seeking it,' till the darkness and agony seemed to close in upon his brain, his reason left him, and he lurched heavily forward to the ground. When he • came to his senses, he f el the cold air blowing past him, and stretch" ing out his hand, found that he was at the entrance in the side of the cliff. He raised himself up to a sitting posture and peered over the edge, wondering if it were not best to throw himself into the chasm. Then he heard a voice behind him. "As well thou as another," it said. " Her life was ours and we have given it to tbee." ... " Give her body back to me. Give her body back to me and I will go hence as empty as I came." . "Ho the bargain is made, Dacobra'. Give thanks to us that thy sacrifice is complete. This tender spot in thy heart was not, woVthy of one who would serve our Master. Now thou art all evil and all wise; and well wast thou named Deva, 'the spirit of *Evil."' " And yet," murmured Dacobra, in the creed of my forefathers Deva is a ' Spirit of Good.' lam not ail evil. I will love this aoul till death, and would give all the souls of the world to purchase. its freedom from thee." " For sixty-three years it is thine; then thou art ours." "Is there no price— -not for myself » but for this girl's soul?" "It has been in a thousand forms. How canst thou love it? Ifc is the body thou lovest. This .was the soul of'Parysatis the Beautiful, who gave herself for all eternity to Ahriman' two thousand years ago.' . "Is there no price for its freedom? . Is there no price?" : The priest fixed his sightless eyes on tne young man and came closer to him. "Ay*, if thou canst do the impossible, there is a price." . „ "Nothing is impossible. Nothing; m all the world if I can give her freedom." . "Thou art young, Dacobra," the priest answered, "and already learned beyond, tne wisdom of greybeards upon 1 earth. Long years are before thee, and,/if any "aortal could find out that which las baffled the immortals for centuries it might.be thou. Show us how the stone and iron may live and change like men and trees. Break down , with thy finite intellect the barrier that an I Infinite mind has set between the living

, 1 germ and the dead matter that has never thrilled with life. Do this, Daeobra, if thou canst, and we will give this soul its freedom." The old priest laughed as he spoke. He might as well have asked him to take the earth in his hand and cast it back into the sun. The young man made no reply, but felt at his side and found the basket there. Then, rising to his feet, he heard the rustle within, and placed his lips to it with reverence. " Well, DacobraT' said the priest. " Nothing is impossible," he replied in a low voice, "and I will perform the task that thou has set me to do." The priest laughed. " Farewell, Dacobra," be said; " thou art young and lam old, but -when thou art old we shall meet again." . The Hindoo began to descend the steps, and close behind him the little white monkey that iad guided him to the place-, swung itself from bar to bar, and followed him into the moonlit plain. When he had crossed the tableland he turned and saw that it was still behind 1 him. Then a wild passion seized him, and, baking a heavy rock in his hands, heleft nothing of it but a motionless lump of fur and blood for the vultures to pick at -\ ' |