“My father had gone through much pain and trouble.  A great load was upon him, and he had been told he was going to die before his work was done.  He had gone to India, because a man he was obliged to speak to had gone there to hunt, and no one knew when he would return.  My father followed him for months from one wild place to another, and, when he found him, the man would not hear or believe what he had come so far to say.  Then he had jungle-fever and almost died.  Once the natives left him for dead in a bungalow in the forest, and he heard the jackals howling round him all the night.  Through all the hours he was only alive enough to be conscious of two things—­all the rest of him seemed gone from his body:  his thought knew that his work was unfinished—­and his body heard the jackals howl!”

“Was the work for Samavia?” The Rat put in quickly.  “If he had died that night, the descendant of the Lost Prince never would have been found—­never!” The Rat bit his lip so hard that a drop of blood started from it.

“When he was slowly coming alive again, a native, who had gone back and stayed to wait upon him, told him that near the summit of a mountain, about fifty miles away, there was a ledge which jutted out into space and hung over the valley, which was thousands of feet below.  On the ledge there was a hut in which there lived an ancient Buddhist, who was a holy man, as they called him, and who had been there during time which had not been measured.  They said that their grandparents and great-grandparents had known of him, though very few persons had ever seen him.  It was told that the most savage beast was tame before him.  They said that a man-eating tiger would stop to salute him, and that a thirsty lioness would bring her whelps to drink at the spring near his hut.”

“That was a lie,” said The Rat promptly.

Marco neither laughed nor frowned.

“How do we know?” he said.  “It was a native’s story, and it might be anything.  My father neither said it was true nor false.  He listened to all that was told him by natives.  They said that the holy man was the brother of the stars.  He knew all things past and to come, and could heal the sick.  But most people, especially those who had sinful thoughts, were afraid to go near him.”

“I’d like to have seen—­” The Rat pondered aloud, but he did not finish.

“Before my father was well, he had made up his mind to travel to the ledge if he could.  He felt as if he must go.  He thought that if he were going to die, the hermit might tell him some wise thing to do for Samavia.”

“He might have given him a message to leave to the Secret Ones,” said The Rat.