The young man’s countenance relaxed into something like a smile as he thought thus; then it became solemnised as he offered the silent prayer, “Lord, enable me to do the work honestly and well.”
The way was long, but the youth’s limbs were strong and agile, so that night had not long overspread the land when he reached the end of his journey. The night was unusually dark—well adapted for deeds of secrecy and crime. If it had been lighter the two spies would have seen a number of men and women, and even children, hurrying along stealthily in the same direction with themselves. They observed only two or three of these, however, who chanced to fall in their way. They loomed up suddenly like spectres out of the surrounding darkness and as quickly melted into it again. Soa paid no attention to these apparitions, neither did he utter a word to his companion during the journey.
Most of the way he kept a pace or two in advance of his guide, but when they reached the more intricate and broken grounds of the forest, he fell behind and suffered the other to lead.
At last the path wound so much among broken rocks and over steep knolls that their progress became very slow—all the more so that the overshadowing trees rendered the darkness profound. Sometimes they had to clamber up steep places on hands and knees.
Suddenly they were arrested by what seemed to them a faint cry or wail. Listening intently, they perceived that the sounds were musical.
“The Christians are singing,” said the spy in a tone which, low though it was, betrayed a touch of
contempt. “They hold their meeting in a cave on the other side of this mound.”
“Remain here, then, till I return to you,” said Soa. “They know you to be a spy. They will not suppose that I have come in such a capacity.”
The man gave vent to a slight laugh at the supposed joke and sat down, while the courtier advanced alone.