And even so, they followed us so closely that they climbed the steps abreast of us.
But I'm willing to bet that there is not an alligator living that can catch me once my feet are set on hard ground, and I can say the same for King; we danced up those steps together like a pair of fauns emerging from a forest pool.
Then the Gray Mahatma came and peered into our faces, and asked an extraordinary question.
"Do you feel proud ?" he asked, looking keenly from one to the other of us.

"Because," he went on to explain, "you have now crossed the Pool of Terrors, and they are not so many who accomplish that.

The _muggers_ are well fed.

And those who reach to this side are usually proud, believing they now have the secret key to the attainment of all Knowledge.

You are going to see now what becomes of the proud ones." The Mahatma led us forward toward a long, dark shadow that transformed itself into a temple wall as we drew closer, and in a moment we were once more groping our way downward amid prehistoric foundation stones, with bats flitting past us and a horrible feeling possessing me, at least, that the worst was yet to come.
The hunch proved accurate.