self had not gained his death. When I
saw that there were no wounded, a dark suspicion came over me that the
wounded had again been put to death. I did not care to ask. The truth
was too terrible to hear, and I felt glad that accident had drawn me
away. It was all a dark and dreadful mystery. These people were the
most gentle, the most self-sacrificing, and the most generous in the
world; yet their strange and unnatural love of death made them capable
of endless atrocities. Life and light seemed to them as actual evils,
and death and darkness the only things worthy of regard.

Almah told me that they were going to bring the monster home, and had
sent for opkuks to drag it along. The dead were also to be fetched
back. There was no further necessity for us to remain, and so we
returned at once.

On the way, Almah said, "Do not use the sepet-ram again. You can do
no good with it. You must not make it common. Keep it. The time may
come when you will need it: you are not fond of death."

I shuddered.

"Never forget," she said, "that here death is considered the chief
blessing. It is useless for you to interfere in their ways. You cannot
change them."

Some more joms passed. The bodies were embalmed, and Almah had more
victims to crown with garlands in the horrible cheder nebilin.

CHAPTER XII

THE BALEFUL SACRIFICE

I resolved to go on no more sacred hunts. I was sickened at the
horrible cruelty, the needless slaughter, the mad self-sacrifice which
distinguished them. I was overwhelmed with horror at the merciless
destruction of brave comrades, whose wounds, so gallantly received,
should have been enough to inspire pity even in a heart of stone. The
gentleness, the incessant kindness, the matchless generosity of these
people seemed all a mockery. What availed it all when the same hand
that heaped favors upon me, the guest, could deal death without
compunction upon friends and relatives? It seemed quite possible for
the Kohen to kill his own child, or cut the throat of his wife, if the
humor seized him. And how long could I hope to be spared among a
people who had this insane thirst for blood?

Some more joms had passed, and the light season had almost ended.
The sun had been sinking lower and lower. The time had at last come
when only a portion of his disk would be visible for a little while
above the hills, and then he would be seen no more for six months of
our time. This was the dark season, and, as I ha