joice.

"So he went forth to open the fountain; but there were few that went
with him, for he was a poor man of lowly aspect, and the path upward
was steep and rough. But his companions saw that as he climbed among the
rocks, little streams of water gushed from the places where he trod, and
pools began to gather in the dry river-bed. He went more swiftly than
they could follow him, and at length he passed out of their sight. A
little farther on they came to the rising of the river and there, beside
the overflowing Source, they found their leader lying dead."

"That was a strange thing," I cried, "and very pitiful. Tell me how it
came to pass, and what was the meaning of it."

"I cannot tell the whole of the meaning," replied the old man, after
a little pause, "for it was many years ago. But this poor man had many
enemies in the city, chiefly among the makers of cisterns, who hated him
for his words. I believe that they went out after him secretly and slew
him. But his followers came back to the city; and as they came the river
began to run down very gently after them. They returned to the Source
day by day, bringing others with them; for they said that their leader
was really alive, though the form of his life had changed, and that he
met them in that high place while they remembered him and prayed and
sang songs of praise. More and more the people learned to go with them,
and the path grew plainer and easier to find. The more the Source was
revisited, the more abundant it became, and the more it filled the
river. All the channels and the basins were supplied with water, and men
made new channels which were also filled. Some of those who were diggers
of trenches and hewers of cisterns said that it was their work which had
wrought the change. But the wisest and best among the people knew that
it all came from the Source, and they taught that if it should ever
again be forgotten and left unvisited the river would fail again and
desolation return. So every day, from the gardens and orchards and
the streets of the city, men and women and children have gone up the
mountain-path with singing, to rejoice beside the spring from which the
river flows and to remember the one who opened it. We call it the River
Carita. And the name of the city is no more Ablis, but Saloma, which is
Peace. And the name of him who died to find the Source for us is so dear
that we speak it only when we pray.

"But there are many things yet to lear