ing to the ground where he lay writhing in apparent torment. He kept up his gyrations until suddenly the bowl began to glow, to glow with an eerie light, finally breaking into a white-blue flame which mounted steadily higher and higher. It made of that garden a place bewitched. The shadows of the trees commenced to dance about grotesquely. All sorts of wraiths seemed to be slinking about the deserted paths. Though perhaps they were only reflections of that weird blue flame. And now Pau Dah sprang to his feet. He started to chant, endlessly chant a wildly beautiful melody. The harshness crept from his voice. The screeching pitch modified. It rolled along, a languid monotone. There was a certain wild beauty about the song. It made Scobee drowsy. He was seated on the ground near Pau Dah. Presently he slept. His breathing was even. Finally the blue flame died out. The moon leapt into view from behind the trees.
"It is well," whispered Pau Dah.
Hung Long Tom leaned down and touched
