I had only to go out of the house and call and it arrived from somewhere, all ready saddled and bridled, in charge of a lad who appeared to be dumb.

At any rate when I spoke to him he would not answer.
Mounted on this pony I took one or two rides along the southern slopes of the mountain on the old pretext of shooting for the pot.

Hans accompanied me on these occasions, but was, I noted, very silent and thoughtful, as though he were hunting something up and down his tortuous intelligence.

Once we got quite near to the mouth of the cave or tunnel where poor Savage had met his horrid end.

As we stood studying it a white-robed man whose head was shaved, which made me think he must be a priest, came up and asked me mockingly why we did not go through the tunnel and see what lay beyond, adding, almost in the words of Harut himself, that none would attempt to interfere with us as the road was open to any who could travel it.