ough glasses I observed that these slopes were crowned by
a vertical precipice of what looked like lava rock, which seemed to
surround the whole mountain and must have been quite a hundred
feet high. Beyond this precipice, which to all appearance was of an
unclimbable nature, began a dense forest of large trees, cedars I
thought, clothing it to the very top, that is so far as I could see.

One day when I was considering the place, Harut entered the garden
suddenly and caught me in the act.

"The House of the god is beautiful," he said, "is it not?"

"Very," I answered, "and of a strange formation. But how do those who
dwell on it climb that precipice?"

"It cannot be climbed," he answered, "but there is a road which I
am about to travel who go to worship the Child. Yet I have told you,
Macumazana, that any strangers who seek to walk that road find death. If
they do not believe me, let them try," he added meaningly.

Then, after many inquiries about my health, he informed me that news had
reached him to the effect that the Black Kendah were mad at the loss
of their crops which the hail had destroyed and because of the near
prospect of starvation.

"Then soon they will be wishing to reap yours with spears," I said.

"That is so. Therefore, my Lord Macumazana, get well quickly that you
may be able to scare away these crows with guns, for in fourteen days
the harvest should begin upon our uplands. Farewell and have no fears,
for during my absence my people will feed and watch you and on the third
night I shall return again."

After Harut's departure a deep depression fell upon all of us. Even
Hans was depressed, while Savage became like a man under sentence of
execution at a near but uncertain date. I tried to cheer him up and
asked him what was the matter.

"I don't know, Mr. Quatermain," he answered, "but the fact is this is
a 'ateful and un'oly 'ole" (in his agitation he quite lost grip of his
h's, which was always weak), "and I am sure that it is the last I shall
ever see, except one."

"Well, Savage," I said jokingly, "at any rate there don't seem to be any
snakes here."

"No, Mr. Quatermain. That is, I haven't met any, but they crawl about me
all night, and whenever I see that prophet man he talks of them to me.
Yes, he talks of them and nothing else with a sort of cold look in his
eyes that makes my back creep. I wish it was over, I do, who shall
never see old England again," and he went away, I think to