in the land shall break her bonds to
husband or to lover and take him whom she desires without reproach or
loss. I will do as I would be done by, that is the law you taught me, is
it not?"

This novel interpretation of a sacred doctrine, worthy of Jeekie
himself, so paralyzed Alan's enfeebled brain that he could make no
answer, nor do anything except wonder what would happen in Asiki-land
when the decree of its priestess took effect. Then Jeekie arrived
with something to drink which he swallowed with the eagerness of the
convalescent and almost immediately went to sleep in good earnest.

Alan's recovery was rapid, since as the Asika had told him, if a patient
lives through it, the kind of fever that he had taken did not last long
enough to exhaust his vital forces. When she asked him if he needed
anything to make him well, he answered:

"Yes, air and exercise."

She replied that he should have both, and next morning his hated mask
was put upon his face and he was supported by priests to a door where a
litter, or rather litters were waiting, one for himself and another
for Jeekie who, although in robust health, was still supposed to be
officially ill and not allowed to walk upon his own legs. They entered
these litters and were borne off till presently they met a third litter
of particularly gorgeous design carried by masked bearers, wherein was
the Asika herself, wearing her coronet and a splendid robe.

Into this litter, which was fitted with a second seat, Alan was
transferred, the Mungana, for whom it was designed, being placed in that
vacated by Alan, which either by accident or otherwise, was no more seen
that day. They went up the mountain side and to the edge of the great
fall and watched the waters thunder down, though the crest of them
they could not reach. Next they wandered off into the huge forests that
clothed the slopes of the hills and there halted and ate. Then as the
sun sank they returned to the gloomy Bonsa-Town beneath them.

For Alan, notwithstanding his weakness and anxieties, it was a heavenly
day. The Asika was passive, some new mood being on her, and scarcely
troubled him at all except to call his attention to a tree, a flower, or
a prospect of the scenery. Here on the mountain side, too, the air was
sweet, and for the rest--well, he who had been so near to death, was
escaped for an hour from that gloomy home of bloodshed and superstition,
and saw God's sky again.

This journey was the f