His words were those which the Keeper had used three nights before.

With his hands held high and the Collar burning on his neck he cried, 'The Snake returns to the House of its Birth.' 'Come,' he cried to me.

'The Heir of John is going home.' Then he leapt into the gulf.

There was no sound of falling, so great was the rush of water.

He must have been whirled into the open below where the bridge used to be, and then swept into the underground deeps, where the Labongo drowses for thirty miles.