er found her. On the grains of credulity she will not feed; in the
net of wishes her feet cannot be held; in the air of these valleys she
will not breathe. The birds you have caught are of the brood of Lies.
Lovely and beautiful, but still lies; Truth knows them not."

And the hunter cried out in bitterness--

"And must I then sit still, to be devoured of this great burning?"

And the old man said,

"Listen, and in that you have suffered much and wept much, I will tell
you what I know. He who sets out to search for Truth must leave these
valleys of superstition forever, taking with him not one shred that has
belonged to them. Alone he must wander down into the Land of Absolute
Negation and Denial; he must abide there; he must resist temptation;
when the light breaks he must arise and follow it into the country of
dry sunshine. The mountains of stern reality will rise before him; he
must climb them; beyond them lies Truth."

"And he will hold her fast! he will hold her in his hands!" the hunter
cried.

Wisdom shook his head.

"He will never see her, never hold her. The time is not yet."

"Then there is no hope?" cried the hunter.

"There is this," said Wisdom: "Some men have climbed on those mountains;
circle above circle of bare rock they have scaled; and, wandering there,
in those high regions, some have chanced to pick up on the ground one
white silver feather, dropped from the wing of Truth. And it shall come
to pass," said the old man, raising himself prophetically and pointing
with his finger to the sky, "it shall come to pass, that when enough of
those silver feathers shall have been gathered by the hands of men, and
shall have been woven into a cord, and the cord into a net, that in that
net Truth may be captured. Nothing but Truth can hold Truth."

The hunter arose. "I will go," he said.

But wisdom detained him.

"Mark you well--who leaves these valleys never returns to them. Though
he should weep tears of blood seven days and nights upon the confines,
he can never put his foot across them. Left--they are left forever. Upon
the road which you would travel there is no reward offered. Who goes,
goes freely--for the great love that is in him. The work is his reward."

"I go" said the hunter; "but upon the mountains, tell me, which path
shall I take?"

"I am the child of The-Accumulated-Knowledge-of-Ages," said the man; "I
can walk only where many men have trodden. On these mountains few feet
have