The good dog Habal had hunted with his mistress and her slave, yet found no scent to lead them on their quest; and now as he snuffled along the edge of a precipice his footing gave beneath him, and, clawing at the loosened stones, the dog went whirling down into the depth below. As he fell, Semiramis cried out in pain and grief, for Habal she loved, with a love which woman only may fathom or understand. Sorrowing, she commanded Huzim to descend into the rift to learn if a spark of life remained within her dog; so the Indian went down.
The way was grievous, and at the bottom he was forced to stone away a flock of noisome vulture-birds; then he came upon Habal with the breath of life dashed out of him. The Indian stooped, yet paused in stark amaze, for the dead dog lay beside the body of a man—a man who wore Prince Menon's armor and his broken helm; yet, because of heat and the beaks of birds, none now might see therein a semblance of the hapless Akki-Bul. Thus it seemed that, even in his death, a faithful beast had led his loved ones on the trail of the master whom he loved.
So Huzim climbed up to Semiramis, and, sorrowing, gave into her hand Prince Menon's sword, together with a little green fish of malachite suspended on a leathern thong; and, seeing these things, her wails of anguish echoed throughout the hills, for now she knew in truth that her lord would come to her no more.
She would have clambered down to him, but Huzim dissuaded her, saying that the steeps would cause her wound to open; and again, it were better that she hold the memory of her lord in life than to look upon this rotting thing below. So Huzim, with Asharal and the men of Naïri, descended into the rift and left Semiramis weeping on the lip of the precipice.
They dug a grave and laid therein the body of Akki-Bul, dropping their tears upon it in the name of Menon, Prince of the house of Naïri; and with him they buried Habal, as every faithful dog would yearn to sleep, with his paws and muzzle resting on a master's breast. Above, among the rocks, a thousand warriors watched, grim sons of battle and of blood, yet children now in the grip of unselfish grief. Semiramis they loved, because of the glory of the woman's flesh and the glory of her deeds; her sorrows were even as their sorrows, so their hearts were sad within them, and they wept.
Then down the mountain side went the army of Assyria, to the foot-hills and across the hot brown plains, coming at last to the city of Zariaspa; and in the lead went Ninus, a chant of mourning on his lips, a song of passion in his heart.
Throughout the day Semiramis lay within her tent as one who is stricken by a sword, and Huzim sat beside her, cooling her brows with water, and driving the fever from her wound with ointment and pounded herbs. At evening came the King, with words of gentleness, mourning with her at the double loss of Menon and her shepherd dog; but she answered him and said:
"Nay, lord, mourn not because of Habal, for in his death the gods let fall a dew of comfort and of peace. In the rimless fields of the over-world my Menon is not alone, for Habal's spirit hunteth at his master's side."
Now if this thought brought peace unto Semiramis, no peace it brought unto the King, for his cheek went pale beneath his beard. Since Menon had hung upon the wall and cursed him, swearing to lead the hounds of Ishtar on his trail, a dog was a dread abomination in his sight—a thing to bay his memory and patter after him on ghostly feet.
When night was come he tossed upon his couch in troubled dreams, watching a ghoulish army trail across the sky. Spirits they were of those he had sent to perish in the hills of Hindu-Kush; and in their lead flew Menon's spirit—with the spirit of a dog in leash. And the King awoke and caused his torches to be lit.