strange garb going towards the hillside on
which he had left Jesus; neither Jews nor Greeks were they, and on
turning to a shepherd standing by he heard that the strangely garbed
people were monks from India, and they are telling the people, the
shepherd said, that they must not believe that they have souls, and that
they know that they are saved. What can be saved but the spirit? Paul
cried, and he asked the shepherd how far he was from the village of
Bethennabrio. Not more than half-an-hour, the shepherd answered, and it
was upon coming into sight of the village that Paul began to trace a
likeness between the doctrines that Jesus had confided to him and the
shepherd's story of the doctrines that were being preached by the monks
from India. His thoughts were interrupted by the necessity of asking the
first passenger coming from the village to direct him to the inn, and it
was good tidings to hear that there was one.

However meagre the food might be, it would be enough, he answered, and
while he sat at supper he remembered Jesus again, and while thinking of
his doctrines and the likeness they bore to those the Indians were
preaching, some words of Jesus returned to him. He had said that he did
not think he was going back to the Brook Kerith, and it may well be,
Paul muttered, that in saying those words he was a prophet without
knowing it. The monks from India will meet him in the valley, and if
they speak to him they will soon gather from him that he divined much of
their philosophy while watching his flock, and finding him to be of
their mind they may ask him to return to India with them and he will
preach there.

Sleep began to gather in Paul's eyes and he was soon dozing, thinking in
his doze how pleasant it was to lie in a room with no bats above him. A
remembrance of the smell kept him awake, but his fatigue was so great
that his sleep grew deeper and deeper and many hours passed over, and
the people in the inn thought that Paul would never wake again. But this
long sleep did not redeem him from the fatigue of his journeys. He could
not set out again till late in the afternoon, and it was evening when he
passed over the last ridge of hills and saw the yellow sands of Caesarea
before him. The sky was grey, and the rain that Jesus had foreseen was
beginning to fall, and it was through shades of evening that he saw the
great mole covered with buildings stretching far into the sea. Timothy
will be waiting for me at t