loathsome
snouts would ripple toward him like spokes of a wheel, but he took no
more notice of them than if they had been water-rats. They seemed more
interested in him than in us.

There were seven sharp turns in that underwater causeway, and the edges
of each turn were slippery slopes, up which an alligator certainly could
climb, but that afforded not the least chance to a man whose foot once
stepped too far and slid. And not only were there unexpected turns at
different intervals, but there were gaps in the causeway of a yard or so
in at least a dozen places, and the edges of those gaps were smooth and
rounded, as if purposely designed to dump all wayfarers into the very
jaws of the waiting reptiles. It was in just such places as that that
they began to gather and wait patiently, with their awful yellow eyes
just noticeable in the starlight.

King and I were standing on one such rounded guessing-place.

The Mahatma, twenty yards away, was taking his time about turning to
give us directions, and one great fifteen foot brute had raised itself
on the causeway behind us and was snapping its paws together like a pair
of vicious castanets.

"Nero and Caligula were Christian gentlemen compared to you!" I called
out to the Mahatma.

"You are fortunate," he boomed back. "You have starlight and a guide.
Those who are not chosen have to find their way--or fail--alone under a
cloudy sky. There is none to hold _them_ while they grope; there is none
to care whether they succeed or not, save only the _mugger_ that desires
a meal. Nevertheless, there are some of them who succeed, so how should
you fail? Take a step to the left now--a long one, each holding the
other, then another to the left--then to the right again."

"Curse you!" I shouted back, staring over King's shoulder. "There's a
_mugger's_ head between us and the next stepping-stone!"

"Nay!" he answered. "That _is_ the stepping-stone."

I could have sworn that he was lying, but King set his foot on it and in
a moment more we were working our way cautiously along the causeway
again, making for the next sharp corner where the Mahatma had been
standing to give us the direction. But he never waited for us to catch
up with him. I think he suspected that in panic we might clutch him and
offer violence, and he always moved on as we approached, leaving us to
grope our way in agonies of apprehension.

The going did not become easier as we progressed. When the Gray Mahatm