beset them, it was their rule to say,
"What will it be best to think about first?" which was Marco's reason
for saying it to himself now as he stood in the darkness which was like
black velvet.

He waited a few minutes for the right thing to come to him.

"I will think of the very old hermit who lived on the ledge of the
mountains in India and who let my father talk to him through all one
night," he said at last. This had been a wonderful story and one of
his favorites. Loristan had traveled far to see this ancient Buddhist,
and what he had seen and heard during that one night had made changes
in his life. The part of the story which came back to Marco now was
these words:

"Let pass through thy mind, my son, only the image thou wouldst desire
to see a truth. Meditate only upon the wish of thy heart, seeing first
that it can injure no man and is not ignoble. Then will it take
earthly form and draw near to thee. This is the law of that which
creates."

"I am not afraid," Marco said aloud. "I shall not be afraid. In some
way I shall get out."

This was the image he wanted most to keep steadily in his mind--that
nothing could make him afraid, and that in some way he would get out of
the wine-cellar.

He thought of this for some minutes, and said the words over several
times. He felt more like himself when he had done it.

"When my eyes are accustomed to the darkness, I shall see if there is
any little glimmer of light anywhere," he said next.

He waited with patience, and it seemed for some time that he saw no
glimmer at all. He put out his hands on either side of him, and found
that, on the side of the wall against which he stood, there seemed to
be no shelves. Perhaps the cellar had been used for other purposes
than the storing of wine, and, if that was true, there might be
somewhere some opening for ventilation. The air was not bad, but then
the door had not been shut tightly when the man opened it.

"I am not afraid," he repeated. "I shall not be afraid. In some way I
shall get out."

He would not allow himself to stop and think about his father waiting
for his return. He knew that would only rouse his emotions and weaken
his courage. He began to feel his way carefully along the wall. It
reached farther than he had thought it would.

The cellar was not so very small. He crept round it gradually, and,
when he had crept round it, he made his way across it, keeping his
hands extended befor