“I will tell you,” he answered.  “Many generations ago a great conqueror born of the nation that spoke this tongue fought his way through the country to the south of us.  He was driven back, but a general of his of another race advanced and crossed the mountains, and overcame the people of this land, bringing with him his master’s language and his own worship.  Here he established his dynasty, and here it remains, for being ringed in with deserts and with pathless mountain snows, we hold no converse with the outer world.”

“Yes, I know something of that story; the conqueror was named Alexander, was he not?” I asked.

“He was so named, and the name of the general was Rassen, a native of a country called Egypt, or so our records tell us.  His descendants hold the throne to this day, and the Khania is of his blood.”

“Was the goddess whom he worshipped called Isis?”

“Nay,” he answered, “she was called Hes.”

“Which,” I interrupted, “is but another title for Isis.  Tell me, is her worship continued here?  I ask because it is now dead in Egypt, which was its home.”

“There is a temple on the Mountain yonder,” he replied indifferently, “and in it are priests and priestesses who practise some ancient cult.  But the real god of this people now, as long before the day of Rassen their conqueror, is the fire that dwells in this same Mountain, which from time to time breaks out and slays them.”

“And does a goddess dwell in the fire?” I asked.

Again he searched my face with his cold eyes, then answered—­“Stranger Holly, I know nothing of any goddess.  That Mountain is sacred, and to seek to learn its secrets is to die.  Why do you ask such questions?”

“Only because I am curious in the matter of old religions, and seeing the symbol of Life upon yonder peak, came hither to study yours, of which indeed a tradition still remains among the learned.”

“Then abandon that study, friend Holly, for the road to it runs through the paws of the death-hounds, and the spears of savages.  Nor indeed is there anything to learn.”

“And what, Physician, are the death-hounds?”

“Certain dogs to which, according to our ancient custom, all offenders against the law or the will of the Khan, are cast to be torn to pieces.”

“The will of the Khan!  Has this Khania of yours a husband then?”

“Aye,” he answered, “her cousin, who was the ruler of half the land.  Now they and the land are one.  But you have talked enough; I am here to say that your food is ready,” and he turned to leave the room.

“One more question, friend Simbri.  How came I to this chamber, and where is my companion?”

“You were borne hither in your sleep, and see, the change has bettered you.  Do you remember nothing?”

“Nothing, nothing at all,” I answered earnestly.  “But what of my friend?”

“He also is better.  The Khania Atene nurses him.”