in spate, was more within his comprehension.

'And thus it was, O Fountain of Wisdom, that I decided to go to the
Holy Places which His foot had trod--to the Birthplace, even to Kapila;
then to Mahabodhi, which is Buddh Gaya--to the Monastery--to the
Deer-park--to the place of His death.'

The lama lowered his voice. 'And I come here alone. For
five--seven--eighteen--forty years it was in my mind that the Old Law
was not well followed; being overlaid, as thou knowest, with devildom,
charms, and idolatry. Even as the child outside said but now. Ay,
even as the child said, with but-parasti.'

'So it comes with all faiths.'

'Thinkest thou? The books of my lamassery I read, and they were dried
pith; and the later ritual with which we of the Reformed Law have
cumbered ourselves--that, too, had no worth to these old eyes. Even
the followers of the Excellent One are at feud on feud with one
another. It is all illusion. Ay, maya, illusion. But I have another
desire'--the seamed yellow face drew within three inches of the
Curator, and the long forefinger-nail tapped on the table. 'Your
scholars, by these books, have followed the Blessed Feet in all their
wanderings; but there are things which they have not sought out. I
know nothing--nothing do I know--but I go to free myself from the Wheel
of Things by a broad and open road.' He smiled with most simple
triumph. 'As a pilgrim to the Holy Places I acquire merit. But there
is more. Listen to a true thing. When our gracious Lord, being as yet
a youth, sought a mate, men said, in His father's Court, that He was
too tender for marriage. Thou knowest?'

The Curator nodded, wondering what would come next.

'So they made the triple trial of strength against all comers. And at
the test of the Bow, our Lord first breaking that which they gave Him,
called for such a bow as none might bend. Thou knowest?'

'It is written. I have read.'

'And, overshooting all other marks, the arrow passed far and far beyond
sight. At the last it fell; and, where it touched earth, there broke
out a stream which presently became a River, whose nature, by our
Lord's beneficence, and that merit He acquired ere He freed himself, is
that whoso bathes in it washes away all taint and speckle of sin.'

'So it is written,' said the Curator sadly.

The lama drew a long breath. 'Where is that River? Fountain of
Wisdom, where fell the arrow?'

'Alas, my brother, I do not know,' said t