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moonless night, when they were less than a day's journey from the Great River, Merasen stole a camel and fled, leaving two men dead. "I found the soldiers," he said. "So I kept my word to the woman and had my revenge and my reward. They told me I was a brave lad and gave me money. It was not enough. I was on the Great River, but deep in the south, in the country they call Sudan. I worked, yes, and I stole, when it was safe to do it, but it took me many months to make my way here. If I have failed my king, it is on my head." The narrative had held us spellbound. Emerson had taken out his pipe, but had been too absorbed to light it. Now he cleared his throat. "You have not failed. Few men could have acted with such courage and wisdom." "Quite right," I said, though it was clear that my commendation meant little as compared with that of Emerson. Hero worship brightened the young man's face. Obviously the stories of Emerson's prowess had become part of the folklore of the Holy Mountain, and I must admit that it would not have been necessary to enlarge them beyond the bare facts. "Months," Nefret said. "At least five months. And it will be another month before we--" "We will discuss it later," I said, for dusk was creeping into the room. "Ramses, will you show our guest to his room--a room-- any room--and find him appropriate attire? I don't care what, so long as he is more or less covered at dinner." "I'll show him," Nefret said, getting to her feet. "David's clothes will fit him better than yours, Ramses, and he can have David's room, at least for the time being. Is that all right, Aunt Amelia?" "Yes, my dear, thank you for asking," I replied. She took him by the hand and led him out. "Father," Ramses began. Emerson held up a peremptory hand. "Not here. Come to the library." Leaving Gargery pouting as he cleared away the tea things, we followed Emerson to the designated chamber. He went at once to acupboard next to the fireplace and took out a heavy steel box, which he unlocked. After rummaging through the papers it contained, he removed a yellowing document and spread it out on the desk. The three of us studied it in silence. The markings were still clear--numbers and several enigmatic symbols, the picture-writing of ancient Egypt. We had used a copy of this map to reach the Holy Mountain ten years ago. After our return with Nefret I had wanted to destroy it. Emerson had refused. "One never knows," he had said. "The time may come . . ." he had said. Now I wished we had destroyed it. It was not often I recalled the details of that terrible journey--the heat and blowing sand, the constant thirst, and the treachery of the men we had hired. I had no memory of the final days, since I had fallen ill and was unconscious when Tarek's rescue party found us and took us the rest of the way. Our departure from the Holy Mountain had been made in haste and in darkness, but I retained one very vivid memory. Looking back as we rode away, in constant fear of pursuit, I saw the encircling mountain range rising up against the stars like the ramparts of a medieval castle--a castle ablaze, for fire rose from the central portion like a volcano in eruption. We had left Tarek still fighting for his throne, though he had assured us that most of the opposition had fallen. We had an unspoken agreement not to talk of the place, but I had often wondered how matters came out. Well, at least we knew that Tarek had conquered. Emerson was the first to speak. "It will take weeks to collect supplies and mount an expedition. In any case we could not possibly start out before September, the desert heat is simply too great. If we decide to go." He looked expectantly at me. "So you are having second thoughts, are you?" I inquired. "I am not a complete fool," Emerson retorted. "Of course it would solve the problem of where we mean to work this season." "Unquestionably," I agreed with a certain degree of irony. "The hazards of the journey and the uncertainty as to what