“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 very clear night, when the thousands in front do but serve to conceal the innumerable throng behind.  Yet even a small and resolute army taking up its stand secretly in this valley and falling upon them unexpectedly when half were crossed could throw them into disorder and rout, and utterly destroy the power of Kha-hia for all time.”

“So shall it be,” said Ten-Teh from the door.  “Pass Upward with a tranquil mind, O stranger from the outer land.  The torch which you have borne so far will not fail until his pyre is lit.”

“Stay but a moment,” cried Nau-Kaou.  “This person, full of vigour and resource, needed the spur of a most poignant hate to urge his trailing footsteps.  Have you, O decrepit one, any such incentive to your failing powers?”

“A mightier one,” came back the voice of Ten-teh, across the snow from afar.  “Fear not.”

“It is well; they are the great twin brothers,” exclaimed Nau-Kaou.  “Kha-hia is doomed!” Then twice beating the ground with his open hand he loosened his spirit and passed contentedly into the Upper Air.

iii.  THE LAST SERVICE