We could discern little of our surroundings, but close at hand we could hear the river rushing between its rocky walls.
Not a word was spoken until finally I inquired: “What next?”
In a low voice that indicated the need of caution even here, Dr. Gresham announced:
“The real work of the night still is before us. I would not have taken the risk of visiting the temple but for the hope that we would learn more of the Seuen-H’sin’s layout than we did. Since nothing was gained there, we must reconnoiter the country.”
“That sacrifice of human life,” I asked—“what was its purpose?”
“To propitiate their god,” the astronomer told me. “Every month, on the night of the full moon—in every Seuen-H’sin temple in the world—that hideous slaughter takes place. At certain times the ceremony is elaborated into a thing infinitely more horrible.”
At this juncture the moon lifted itself clear of the valley’s eastern rim, and the depression was bathed in silvery radiance. This was the signal for our start.
Heading toward the sound of the river, we soon came to the road that led to the Nippon’s wharf. Beside this highway was an electric transmission line, running on up into the canyon. Turning away from the wharf and the village, we proceeded to follow this line toward its source.
Instead of traversing the road, however, we kept in the shadows of the timber at its side; and it was well that we did so, for we had not gone far before a group of Chinamen appeared around a bend in the highway, walking rapidly toward the town. They wore dark clothes of the same pattern as our own outer garments; and they passed without seeing us.
For fully two miles we followed the power line, until we began to pass numerous groups of Chinamen in close succession—like crowds of men getting off work.