e. Here it flowed rapidly, but on the vast, alluvial lands
beneath became a broad and gentle stream that wound its way through the
limitless plains till it was lost in the blue of the distance.

To the north, however, this smooth, monotonous expanse was broken by
that Mountain which had guided us from afar, the House of Fire. It was
a great distance from us, more than a hundred miles, I should say, yet
even so a most majestic sight in that clear air. Many leagues from the
base of its peak the ground began to rise in brown and rugged hillocks,
from which sprang the holy Mountain itself, a white and dazzling point
that soared full twenty thousand feet into the heavens.

Yes, and there upon the nether lip of its crater stood the gigantic
pillar, surmounted by a yet more gigantic loop of virgin rock, whereof
the blackness stood out grimly against the blue of the sky beyond and
the blinding snow beneath.

We gazed at it with awe, as well we might, this beacon of our hopes that
for aught we knew might also prove their monument, feeling even then
that yonder our fate would declare itself. I noted further that all
those with us did it reverence by bowing their heads as they caught
sight of the peak, and by laying the first finger of the right hand
across the first finger of the left, a gesture, as we afterwards
discovered, designed to avert its evil influence. Yes, even Simbri
bowed, a yielding to inherited superstition of which I should scarcely
have suspected him.

"Have you ever journeyed to that Mountain?" asked Leo of him.

Simbri shook his head and answered evasively.

"The people of the Plain do not set foot upon the Mountain. Among its
slopes beyond the river which washes them, live hordes of brave and most
savage men, with whom we are oftentimes at war; for when they are hungry
they raid our cattle and our crops. Moreover, there, when the Mountain
labours, run red streams of molten rock, and now and again hot ashes
fall that slay the traveller."

"Do the ashes ever fall in your country?" asked Leo.

"They have been known to do so when the Spirit of the Mountain is angry,
and that is why we fear her."

"Who is this Spirit?" said Leo eagerly.

"I do not know, lord," he answered with impatience. "Can men see a
spirit?"

"_You_ look as though you might, and had, not so long ago," replied Leo,
fixing his gaze on the old man's waxen face and uneasy eyes. For now
their horny calm was gone from the eyes of Simbri,