But Theria was full of questions. “Baltè, what does the glen find when it goes down into the shadows? It always seems to stoop down and down.”
“The river, do ye mean, darlin’?”
“But I can’t see the river, I’ve tried so many days.”
“No, the glen is too deep to see the Pleistos.”
“Baltè, did you ever go across the river to the other mountain—far, far over where Father Zeus has driven his clouds?”
“No, child, not I. What ever would I be doin’ there?”
“I’d like to go,” said the child.
“Don’t ye never! Do ye see that little rift-like all black on the mountainside among the firs?”
“Yes, Baltè.”
“Well, down in that rift is the cave o’ Lamia—a woman the upper part of her, but all the rest a snake. In the olden time she did come hitherward and ravaged the country.”