Its walls were all of forty feet high and hundreds of feet on each side.

As we drew by, our natives grew very silent; watched it furtively, fearfully.

I knew it for the ruins that are called Nan-Tauach, the 'place of frowning walls.' And at the silence of my men I recalled what Christian had written of this place; of how he had come upon its 'ancient platforms and tetragonal enclosures of stonework; its wonder of tortuous alleyways and labyrinth of shallow canals; grim masses of stonework peering out from behind verdant screens; cyclopean barricades,' and of how, when he had turned 'into its ghostly shadows, straight-way the merriment of guides was hushed and conversation died down to whispers.'" He was silent for a little time.
"Of course I wanted to pitch our camp there," he went on again quietly, "but I soon gave up that idea.

The natives were panic-stricken--threatened to turn back.

'No,' they said, 'too great ani there.