as deserted," said Jack, as he devoured his
venison.

"War, pestilence, or famine," replied his father briefly. "I'll pump
this woman and see how the local tradition runs."

He conversed with her for some time, then turned to his son.

"I can begin as I used to begin stories when you were a nipper," said
Mr. Haydon. "Once upon a time there was a great king."

"How long ago?" queried Jack.

"Goodness knows," said his father. "Time is a mere blur in these old
stories. A hundred, two hundred, five hundred years, all are one to a
people who keep no written records. Well, a great king ruled here over
a busy and wealthy people. He built this pagoda and was immensely
proud of it He delighted to deck it with gold and precious stones. She
says that once the whole of the exterior was covered with plates of
solid gold, and the _Hti_, the umbrella, that is the topmost stage of
the pagoda, was hung with thousands of golden and silver bells, and
decked with huge rubies and other precious stones. Most of these
didn't belong to him. For he had a habit of marching upon neighbouring
rulers and stripping their treasuries to brighten up his pagoda.

"At last the usual thing happened. A better fighting man came along
and stripped him. He and his people fought well, but in the end they
were overcome and the whole city was put to the sword. The conqueror
had the plates of gold and a vast number of rubies, emeralds, and
diamonds. But many of the finest rubies slipped out of his grasp. The
priests fled and carried them off. Since that day the city has been a
desert. And so you have the legend."

"Is it true, do you think?" asked Jack.

"Substantially true, without a doubt," replied his father. "The thing
has happened again and again. It might easily happen to-day in Burmah
itself, were it not for the British Raj. These local rulers were
forever cutting each other's throats."

At this point the low murmur of his voice became mingled with a
louder noise without. The sound of busy Kachin tongues in full flow
came through the tiny apertures which lighted the room, and Jack and
his father sprang to their feet.

"The enemy have arrived," murmured Jack, and his father nodded. They
stole swiftly across the room and peered through the little apertures
which lighted the place. No better spying-place could be needed. They
looked straight into the broad open space before the pagoda, and saw
their pursuers defiling from a narrow street. One man