r I can scarcely call it more, set me thinking.
Yva had said that Oro sent me medicine which was administered to me
without Bickley's knowledge, and as she believed, saved my life, or
certainly my reason. What was in it? I wondered. Then there was that
Life-water which Yva brought and insisted upon my drinking every day.
Undoubtedly it was a marvelous tonic and did me good. But it had other
effects also. Thus, as she said would be the case, after a course of
it I conceived the greatest dislike, which I may add has never entirely
left me, of any form of meat, also of alcohol. All I seemed to want was
this water with fruit, or such native vegetables as there were. Bickley
disapproved and made me eat fish occasionally, but even this revolted
me, and since I gained steadily in weight, as we found out by a simple
contrivance, and remained healthy in every other way, soon he allowed me
to choose my own diet.

About this time Oro began to pay me frequent visits. He always came at
night, and what is more I knew when he was coming, although he never
gave me warning. Here I should explain that during my illness Bastin,
who was so ingenious in such matters, had built another hut in which he
and Bickley slept, of course when they were not watching me, leaving our
old bed-chamber to myself.

Well, I would wake up and be aware that Oro was coming. Then he appeared
in a silent and mysterious way, as though he had materialised in the
room, for I never saw him pass the doorway. In the moonlight, or the
starlight, which flowed through the entrance and the side of the hut
that was only enclosed with latticework, I perceived him seat himself
upon a certain stool, looking like a most majestic ghost with his
flowing robes, long white beard, hooked nose and hawk eyes. In the
day-time he much resembled the late General Booth whom I had often
seen, except for certain added qualities of height and classic beauty of
countenance. At night, however, he resembled no one but himself, indeed
there was something mighty and godlike in his appearance, something that
made one feel that he was not as are other men.

For a while he would sit and look at me. Then he began to speak in a
low, vibrant voice. What did he speak of? Well, many matters. It was as
though he were unburdening that hoary soul of his because it could no
longer endure the grandeur of its own loneliness. Amongst sundry secret
things, he told me of the past history of this world of ours,