And not only were there unexpected turns at different intervals, but there were gaps in the causeway of a yard or so in at least a dozen places, and the edges of those gaps were smooth and rounded, as if purposely designed to dump all wayfarers into the very jaws of the waiting reptiles.

It was in just such places as that that they began to gather and wait patiently, with their awful yellow eyes just noticeable in the starlight.
King and I were standing on one such rounded guessing-place.
The Mahatma, twenty yards away, was taking his time about turning to give us directions, and one great fifteen foot brute had raised itself on the causeway behind us and was snapping its paws together like a pair of vicious castanets.
"Nero and Caligula were Christian gentlemen compared to you!" I called out to the Mahatma.
"You are fortunate," he boomed back.

"You have starlight and a guide.
Those who are not chosen have to find their way--or fail--alone under a cloudy sky.

There is none to hold _them_ while they grope; there is none to care whether they succeed or not, save only the _mugger_ that desires a meal.

Nevertheless, there are some of them who succeed, so how should you fail?
Take a step to the left now--a long one, each holding the other, then another to the left--then to the right again." "Curse you!" I shouted back, staring over King's shoulder.