Far, far fled those beams, making
a bright path across the land, and striking the white crests of the
bordering wall of mountains. High in the air ran that path, over the
dim roofs of the city of Kaloon, over the river, yes, straight above
us, over the mountains, and doubtless--though there we could not follow
them--across the desert to that high eminence on its farther side
where we had lain bathed in their radiance. It was a wondrous and most
impressive sight, one too that filled our companions with fear, for the
steersmen in our boats and the drivers on the towing-path groaned aloud
and began to utter prayers. "What do they say?" asked Leo of Simbri.
"They say, lord, that the Spirit of the Mountain is angry, and passes
down yonder flying light that is called the Road of Hes to work some
evil to our land. Therefore they pray her not to destroy them."
"Then does that light not always shine thus?" he asked again.
"Nay, but seldom. Once about three months ago, and now to-night, but
before that not for years. Let us pray that it portends no misfortune to
Kaloon and its inhabitants."
For some minutes this fearsome illumination continued, then it ceased
as suddenly as it had begun, and there remained of it only the dull glow
above the crest of the peak.
Presently the moon rose, a white, shining ball, and by its rays we
perceived that we drew near to the city.
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