it hung over the sides of the litter, and he had
a hooked nose, above which flashed out a pair of eyes as keen as a
snake's, while his whole countenance was instinct with a look of wise
and sardonic humour impossible to describe on paper.

"Art thou awake, stranger?" he said in a deep and low voice.

"Surely, my father," I answered courteously, feeling certain that I
should do well to conciliate this ancient Mammon of Unrighteousness.

He stroked his beautiful white beard, and smiled faintly.

"From whatever country thou camest," he said, "and by the way it must
be from one where somewhat of our language is known, they teach their
children courtesy there, my stranger son. And now wherefore comest thou
unto this land, which scarce an alien foot has pressed from the time
that man knoweth? Art thou and those with thee weary of life?"

"We came to find new things," I answered boldly. "We are tired of
the old things; we have come up out of the sea to know that which
is unknown. We are of a brave race who fear not death, my very much
respected father--that is, if we can get a little information before we
die."

"Humph!" said the old gentleman, "that may be true; it is rash to
contradict, otherwise I should say that thou wast lying, my son.
However, I dare to say that '_She-who-must-be-obeyed_' will meet thy
wishes in the matter."

"Who is '_She-who-must-be-obeyed_'?" I asked, curiously.

The old man glanced at the bearers, and then answered, with a little
smile that somehow sent my blood to my heart--

"Surely, my stranger son, thou wilt learn soon enough, if it be her
pleasure to see thee at all in the flesh."

"In the flesh?" I answered. "What may my father wish to convey?"

But the old man only laughed a dreadful laugh, and made no reply.

"What is the name of my father's people?" I asked.

"The name of my people is Amahagger" (the People of the Rocks).

"And if a son might ask, what is the name of my father?"

"My name is Billali."

"And whither go we, my father?"

"That shalt thou see," and at a sign from him his bearers started
forward at a run till they reached the litter in which Job was reposing
(with one leg hanging over the side). Apparently, however, he could not
make much out of Job, for presently I saw his bearers trot forward to
Leo's litter.

And after that, as nothing fresh occurred, I yielded to the pleasant
swaying motion of the litter, and went to sleep again. I was dreadfully
tired.