to him. You, if you like, can return to India. Please yourself.”
“I shall never return without you, Maurice,” I replied. “The future has nothing in store for me. Where you go, I go. At least I shall have the satisfaction of being at your side when the day of disaster comes, as come it surely will.”
He pressed my hand with unusual warmth, and that was the last of our discussion.
Soon Ah Schow brought the mules around to the door and we started down the mountain.
As there were only three mules, Mr. Mirrikh rode double with Maurice as far as the town of Zhad-uan, where a fourth was purchased, after which it was easier travelling, though it was all hard enough.
A hundred miles lay before us, Mr. Mirrikh said, and we took it for granted that he knew.
Now as I had been contemplating writing a detailed account of the manners and customs of this unknown land, I was not a little disappointed to learn that our way for the entire distance lay through an utterly desolate country; little less, in fact, than an endless series of broken mountain chains, sandy deserts and barren plains.
Zhad-uan was the frontier town of the region, and after a short stay we were on the road again.
Now from the moment we left the inn, Mr. Mirrikh conducted himself in every way like a human being—whether or not he was one, I had begun to feel grave doubts.
My philosophy was completely shattered, and even the Doctor was silent on the subject
To the outward observer we were simply four black lamas travelling with their servant. To ourselves we were a mystery—all except the Doctor, and I honestly believe that in spite of his protests he was glad of the decision to advance. I will do the man the justice to say that the advice he had offered to the contrary was expressed solely for our good.
We had with us everything needed to make us as comfortable as circumstances would permit; tent, cooking utensils, canned meats and vegetables. No one interfered with us, and I came to the conclusion that no one would to the end.
Not that we passed unchallenged.
