"You don't seem to be afraid of that gruesome reptile," said I pleasantly.
"Oh, no," she replied smiling. "Siloo knows me very well."
"Tell me, was it he who made the music a little while ago?"
"Yes, and also the noise which alarmed you the first night you wandered here. The music comes from his head, and the noise is from his tail. That is why we call him Siloo."
The word, as nearly as I can translate it, means harmony, order, measure, proportion, in the Womla tongue.
"Does he always live in this cave?"
"Yes, he is a sacred animal with us, and long ago was worshipped and consulted by our forefathers, and those who preceded them in the island."
"Is he very old?"
"None can tell how old. Some say he is immortal. Others think he is only the offspring of the snake worshipped by our forefathers. He is guardian of the sacred fountain whose waters we are about to drink."
When she had spoken, Alumion tripped to the flowing spring, and, taking a cup which was standing on the edge of the basin, filled it from the pellucid stream.