I
uncomplainingly striven for the greater part of a lifetime. For the
rest, men do not cross the King-langs in midwinter, wearing away their
lives upon those stormy heights, to make a jest of empty words.
Already sinking into the Under World, even as I am now powerless to
raise myself above the ground, I, Nau-Kaou, swear and attest what I
have spoken."

"Yet, alas!" exclaimed Ten-teh, striking his breast bitterly in his
dejection, "to what end is it that you have journeyed? Know that out
of all the eleven villages by famine and pestilence not another man
remains. Beyond the valley stretch the uninhabited sand plains, so
that between here and the Capital not a solitary dweller could be
found to bear the message."

"The Silent One laughs!" replied Nau-Kaou dispassionately; and drawing
his cloak more closely about him he would have composed himself into a
reverent attitude to Pass Beyond.

"Not so!" cried Ten-teh, rising in his inspired purpose and standing
upright despite the fever that possessed him; "the jewel is precious
beyond comparison and the casket mean and falling to pieces, but there
is none other. This person will bear the warning."

The stranger looked up from the ground in an increasing wonder. "You
do but dream, old man," he said in a compassionate voice. "Before me
stands one of trembling limbs and infirm appearance. His face is the
colour of potter's clay; his eyes sunken and yellow. His bones
protrude everywhere like the points of armour, while his garment is
scarcely fitted to afford protection against a summer breeze."

"Such dreams do not fade with the light," replied Ten-teh resolutely.
"His feet are whole and untired; his mind clear. His heart is as
inflexibly fixed as the decrees of destiny, and, above all, his
purpose is one which may reasonably demand divine encouragement."

"Yet there are the Han-sing mountains, flung as an insurmountable
barrier across the way," said Nau-Kaou.

"The wind passes over them," replied Ten-teh, binding on his sandals.

"The Girdle," continued the other, thereby indicating the formidable
obstacle presented by the tempestuous river, swollen by the mountain
snows.

"The fish, moved by no great purpose, swim from bank to bank," again
replied Ten-teh. "Tell me rather, for the time presses when such
issues hang on the lips of dying men, to what extent Kha-hia's legions
stretch?"

"In number," replied Nau-Kaou, closing his eyes, "they are as the
stars on a ver