and make him dress it--anything to occupy my mind
until the appointed hour, when we must learn--the best--or the worst.

I sat up in the bed and saw a figure advancing towards me. It was Oros,
who bore a lamp in his hand.

"You have slept long, friend Holly," he said, "and now it is time to be
up and doing."

"Long?" I answered testily. "How can that be, when it is still dark?"

"Because, friend, the dark is that of a new night. Many hours have gone
by since you lay down upon this bed. Well, you were wise to rest you
while you may, for who knows when you will sleep again! Come, let me
bathe your arm."

"Tell me," I broke in----"Nay, friend," he interrupted firmly, "I will
tell you nothing, except that soon you must start to be present at
the funeral of the Khan, and, perchance, to learn the answer to your
questions."

Ten minutes later he led me to the eating-chamber of the house, where I
found Leo already dressed, for Oros had awakened him before he came to
me and bidden him to prepare himself. Oros told us here that the Hesea
had not suffered us to be disturbed until the night came again since we
had much to undergo that day. So presently we started.

Once more we were led through the flame-lit hall till we came to the
loop-shaped apse. The place was empty now, even the corpse of the Khan
had gone, and no draped Oracle sat in the altar shrine, for its silver
curtains were drawn, and we saw that it was untenanted.

"The Mother has departed to do honour to the dead, according to the
ancient custom," Oros explained to us.

Then we passed the altar, and behind the statue found a door in the
rock wall of the apse, and beyond the door a passage, and a hall as of a
house, for out of it opened other doors leading to chambers. These, our
guide told us, were the dwelling-places of the Hesea and her maidens.
He added that they ran to the side of the Mountain and had windows that
opened on to gardens and let in the light and air. In this hall six
priests were waiting, each of whom carried a bundle of torches beneath
his arm and held in his hand a lighted lamp.

"Our road runs through the dark," said Oros, "though were it day we
might climb the outer snows, but this at night it is dangerous to do."

Then taking torches, he lit them at a lamp and gave one to each of us.

Now our climb began. Up endless sloping galleries we went, hewn with
inconceivable labour by the primeval fire-worshippers from the living
rock of th