being in a more uninteresting place
than this little town with its extremely uncommunicative population
which, it seemed to me, lived under a shadow of fear that prevented all
gaiety. Even the children, of whom there were not many, crept about in
a depressed fashion and talked in a low voice. I never saw any of them
playing games or heard them shouting and laughing, as young people do
in most parts of the world. For the rest we were very well looked after.
Plenty of food was provided for us and every thought taken for our
comfort. Thus a strong and quiet pony was brought for me to ride because
of my lameness. I had only to go out of the house and call and it
arrived from somewhere, all ready saddled and bridled, in charge of a
lad who appeared to be dumb. At any rate when I spoke to him he would
not answer.

Mounted on this pony I took one or two rides along the southern slopes
of the mountain on the old pretext of shooting for the pot. Hans
accompanied me on these occasions, but was, I noted, very silent and
thoughtful, as though he were hunting something up and down his tortuous
intelligence. Once we got quite near to the mouth of the cave or tunnel
where poor Savage had met his horrid end. As we stood studying it a
white-robed man whose head was shaved, which made me think he must be
a priest, came up and asked me mockingly why we did not go through the
tunnel and see what lay beyond, adding, almost in the words of Harut
himself, that none would attempt to interfere with us as the road was
open to any who could travel it. By way of answer I only smiled and
put him a few questions about a very beautiful breed of goats with long
silky hair, some of which he seemed to be engaged in herding. He replied
that these goats were sacred, being the food of "one who dwelt in the
Mountain who only ate when the moon changed."

When I inquired who this person was he said with his unpleasant
smile that I had better go through the tunnel and see for myself, an
invitation which I did not accept.

That evening Harut appeared unexpectedly, looking very grave and
troubled. He was in a great hurry and only stayed long enough to
congratulate me upon the excellent effects of his ointment, since "no
man could fight Jana on one leg."

I asked him when the fight with Jana was to come off. He replied:

"Lord, I go up to the Mountain to attend the Feast of the First-fruits,
which is held at sunrise on the day of the new moon. After the offe