“Of a verity the grassland beneath thy feet is the same field whereon my people gained the signal victory over their enemies. Behold! their whitening bones remain as relics of that fight; and yonder, afar, lieth the forbidden Land of the Myriad Mysteries.”
“Let us hasten thither, O master,” urged Tiamo, who had been standing agape in amazement, eagerly drinking in every word uttered by the sable chieftain.
“In short space shall we reach the shore of the wondrous Lake of the Accursed,” Yakul exclaimed. “By to-morrow’s noon our faces shall be mirrored in its waters.”
“Let us speed on the wings of haste,” I said; and then, remembering Yakul’s confidence in the non-success of my strange mission, I added, “Each hour is of serious moment. Already have I tarried too great a space on my way hither, and must return more quickly than I came. How I shall journey back to Kano I know not.”
“Thou needest not retrace thy footsteps along the route thou hast traversed,” answered the chief. “Due north of yonder rock there runneth a track which leadeth through the Great Forest to Ipoto. Thence, crossing the Ihourou river, the way leadeth on through the desolate country of the Mbelia unto the mountain called Nai, whence thou canst journey in six marches to Niam-Niam, and onward unto thine own desert land.”
Our friends, the dwarfs, had grouped themselves under the shadow of the trees on the edge of the forest, conversing seriously. None summoned sufficient courage to wander forth upon the verdant land, where flowers grew in wild abundance, and where herds of buffalo grazed undisturbed. This strange land, unknown to all except themselves, they held in utmost awe. They dared not approach it more closely, lest the dreaded pestilence that had been prophesied should fall and sweep them from the face of the earth.
Yakul approached their headman, urging him to accompany us and explore the mysterious rock, but the tiny man only shook his head, and drawing himself up, answered,—
“Verily, we are thy friends, O friend, but seek not to cause us to invoke the wrath of the Destroyer, lest the pestilence should fall upon us. He who resteth his eyes on yonder rock will assuredly be smitten, and his entrails withered by the breath of the Evil Spirit of the Forest that scorcheth like the flame of a burning brand. To pass over yonder grassland is forbidden.”
“We go forward in search of the Land of the Myriad Mysteries,” the chief of the Avejeli explained.
“Then assuredly thou goest unto certain death,” the dwarfs replied, almost with one accord, shaking their heads and shrugging their narrow shoulders.