ity which was
lost in the bottomless abyss.

Once only we lost our way. Turn after turn was negotiated safely, first
down into the bottom of the ravine and through the mountain torrent,
then up the hillside again, mysterious zigzag after zigzag, and one had
become reconciled to the jolting motion of the pony, the steady tramp of
his tiny hoofs, and his heavy breathing where the path was steepest, and
gave one's-self up to reverie. How terrible, we thought, must have been
the scene on the mountain slopes when the enormous craters of the
Teng'ger range were belching forth their death-dealing streams of lava,
their showers of ashes and stones and choking sulphurous fumes! How
insignificant was man before the powerful agencies of Nature! How bright
were the occasional stars one saw wherever there was a break in the
trees that lined our path! How wonderful that each of those stars, those
planets, might be peopled by beings puzzling over the disputed facts of
the Creation, as we were; who might also be worrying over a future
existence and the redemption of a sinful people; who might be
endeavouring to solve labour problems and trade disputes and discussing
whether free trade or preferential tariffs were best for a nation's
welfare! Was there somebody up in one of those other planets on a pony's
back, as we were, robbing one's-self of much-needed rest to reach a
mountain top to see the sun rise?

These and other thoughts kept recurring to one when, suddenly, as if it
had been shot, the pony planted his forefeet and refused to follow the
guiding lead of the syce.

We had made a wrong turning and the syce all but slipped over a
precipice. Had it not been for the pony's instinct, all three of us
would have been plunged into Eternity, and some of the problems of the
previous moment might have been solved.

Out came the syce's matches, as he clung to the pony's bridle. Not
nearly so bright as the lambent phosphorescence from the fireflies which
flickered across our path, the puny light of the match was sufficient
for the guide to pick up the ribbon-like path, and once more we were on
our way to the top.

Three deep ravines were traversed before we made the final upward
movement, and then Nature's lamp lights were being shut out in hundreds
at a time as the soft dawn began to diffuse itself. With Dawn's left
hand in the sky, we thought of Omar Khayyam's stanza, and felt impelled
to cry out to the sleepers in the hollow--