teacher was there to guide
him.

"What will you do now, Hokosa?" asked Noma his wife upon a certain day.
"Will you turn to Hafela after all?"

"No," answered Hokosa; "I will consult my ancient lore. Listen. Whatever
else is false, this is true: that magic exists, and I am its master. For
a while it seemed to me that the white man was greater at the art than I
am; but of late I have watched him and listened to his doctrines, and I
believe that this is not so. It is true that in the beginning he read my
plans in a dream, or otherwise; it is true that he hurled the lightning
back upon my head; but I hold that these things were accidents. Again
and again he has told us that he is not a wizard; and if this be so, he
can be overcome."

"How, husband?"

"How? By wizardry. This very night, Noma, with your help I will consult
the dead, as I have done in bygone time, and learn the future from their
lips which cannot lie."

"So be it; though the task is hateful to me, and I hate you who force me
to it."

Noma answered thus with passion, but her eyes shone as she spoke: for
those who have once tasted the cup of magic are ever drawn to drink of
it again, even when they fear the draught.

****

It was midnight, and Hokosa with his wife stood in the burying-ground of
the kings of the Amasuka. Before Owen came upon his mission it was death
to visit this spot except upon the occasion of the laying to rest of one
of the royal blood, or to offer the annual sacrifice to the spirits
of the dead. Even beneath the bright moon that shone upon it the place
seemed terrible. Here in the bosom of the hills was an amphitheatre,
surrounded by walls of rock varying from five hundred to a thousand feet
in height. In this amphitheatre grew great mimosa thorns, and above
them towered pillars of granite, set there not by the hand of man but by
nature. It would seem that the Amasuka, led by some fine instinct, had
chosen these columns as fitting memorials of their kings, at the least a
departed monarch lay at the foot of each of them.

The smallest of these unhewn obelisks--it was about fifty feet
high--marked the resting-place of Umsuka; and deep into its granite
Owen with his own hand had cut the dead king's name and date of death,
surmounting his inscription with a symbol of the cross.

Towards this pillar Hokosa made his way through the wet grass, followed
by Noma his wife. Presently they were there, standing one upon each
side of a litt