“Surely, my stranger son, thou wilt learn soon enough, if it be her pleasure to see thee at all in the flesh.”
“In the flesh?” I answered. “What may my father wish to convey?”
But the old man only laughed a dreadful laugh, and made no reply.
“What is the name of my father’s people?” I asked.
“The name of my people is Amahagger” (the People of the Rocks).
“And if a son might ask, what is the name of my father?”
“My name is Billali.”
“And whither go we, my father?”
“That shalt thou see,” and at a sign from him his bearers started forward at a run till they reached the litter in which Job was reposing (with one leg hanging over the side). Apparently, however, he could not make much out of Job, for presently I saw his bearers trot forward to Leo’s litter.
And after that, as nothing fresh occurred, I yielded to the pleasant swaying motion of the litter, and went to sleep again. I was dreadfully tired. When I woke I found that we were passing through a rocky defile of a lava formation with precipitous sides, in which grew many beautiful trees and flowering shrubs.