Restoring the gourd to its place, I leaned forward to catch the faintest sound of the hermit’s voice which might reach my ear.
It came not.
The silence grew more oppressive than before.
The broken, twisted rocks, overhanging and surrounding me, took on fantastic forms.
In every dark cavity I saw some misshapen creature stirring about.
A dreadful feeling of loneliness crept over me.
No sound came, save the loud throbbing of my own heart.
A half hour went by!
Benè-agâ spake not a word.
“Perhaps he sleeps!” I whispered to myself.