They left the travelled region and ascended into a hilly country where the road wound constantly up and the bearers were obliged to force their way through paths that were no longer wide enough for two abreast. At last only the empty chairs could be carried and they ascended by slow stages, halting often to rest. “We are near the end now!” Kou Ying looked gravely at Eleanor More. Her face had grown a little tired, but it held a light that scanned each break in the road with quiet happiness. Richard More watched her uneasily. “You are not tired?” he asked. She shook her head. “I am strangely rested.... I am getting acclimated, perhaps.” He looked again at the quiet face. It was true that it seemed rested—more rested than he had ever seen it. But there was a pallor about it that touched him strangely. He took her hand and held it in his as they ascended the hill, guiding her, almost carrying her over the rough places, till the path before them opened out into a little clearing and they stood on the summit of the mountain. Below them the path wound downward to a valley of trees and little farms that stretched away to the plain; and in the centre of the valley stood a walled city.... They noted the circling walls and the gates and towers that thrust upward. In the midst of the city was a curious and rounded mountain, and on the summit of the mountain two thin, shining trees and a temple with little points and peaks glinted in the light.... Below the temple, shrined in the face of the mountain, something glowed. The light fell on it and shifted a little and the sun that had been struggling through gray clouds shone full on the face of the god—hewn from the ribs of the mountain and gilded till it shone like brass.... Colossal in dignity and repose, the great face gazed out over the roofs and towers of the walled city, to the plain beyond. Eleanor More caught her breath and leaned forward, gazing with quiet eyes. Kou Ying beside her gave a quick cry and flung himself prostrate on his face.... And all the bearers of the little retinue as they came straggling into the opening prostrated themselves, with half-uttered sounds of awe. Richard More, standing among the kneeling figures, noted quietly the distance of the descending path that led to the city. And when Kou Ying rose and stood beside him, the American motioned with his hand to the mountain and the god that faced them, rising above the city walls. “From here we go on alone,” he said. Kou Ying gazed at him a moment in silence. He seemed weighing something in his mind. “You will need an interpreter,” he said gravely. Richard More laughed out. He touched the string of cash that hung beneath his coat. “This will talk!” But Kou Ying shook his head with a smile. “You must go to the temple—not the one above, but below. Beside the Buddha—can you see it?”