link
from the golden chain he had worn and which was still about his neck
when he left the palace. Three-and-thirty links were gone since he had
come there, and the chain was shorter by more than half its length. It
would last until the thousand days were accomplished, and there would
still be much left. Auramazda, the All-Wise, would provide.

Zoroaster sat by the spring and watched the crystal waters sparkle in
the brief hour of sunshine at noonday, and turn dark and deep again when
the light was gone. He moved not through the long hours of day, sitting
as he had sat in that place now for three years neither scorched by the
short hours of sunlight, nor chilled by winter's frost and snow. The
wild long-haired sheep of the mountain came down to drink at noon, and
timidly gazed with their stupid eyes at the immovable figure; and at
evening the long-bodied, fierce-eyed wolves would steal stealthily among
the rocks and come and snuff the ground about his feet, presently
raising their pointed heads with a long howl of fear, and galloping away
through the dusk in terror, as though at something unearthly.

And when at last the night was come, Zoroaster arose and went to the
spot where the rocks, overhanging together, left a space through which
one might enter; and the white-haired man gave one long look at the
stars overhead, and disappeared within.

There was a vast cave, the roof reaching high up in a great vault; the
sides black and polished, as though smoothed by the hands of cunning
workmen; the floor a bed of soft, black sand, dry and even as the
untrodden desert. In the midst, a boulder of black rock lay like a huge
ball, and upon its summit burned a fire that was never quenched, and
that needed no replenishing with fuel. The tall pointed flame shed a
strangely white light around, that flashed and sparkled upon the smooth
black walls of the cavern, as though they were mirrors. The flame also
was immovable; it neither flickered, nor rose, nor fell; but stood as it
were a spear-head of incandescent gold upon the centre of the dark
altar. There was no smoke from that strange fire, nor any heat near it,
as from other fires.

Then Zoroaster bent and put forth his forefinger and traced a figure
upon the sand, which was like a circle, save that it was cut from
north-west to south-east by two straight lines; and from north-east to
south-west by two straight lines; and at each of the four small arcs,
where the straight lin