When the sun hung in mid-sky, and they had reached the end of the first pass and stood in a little valley, through which ran a stream of fresh water, the two sat down to eat and take an hour’s rest. They seated themselves on the thick grass, careful to disturb no insect visible to the eye; and then, without any preliminary grace or offering to any god, a matter as natural to Oman as eating, began their meal. They faced each other, and Hushka kept an eye on his pupil to see that he transgressed none of those rules of polite eating so minutely set forth in the _Kullavagga_. But there was no fault to be found with the student on this point. On the contrary, Oman ate as delicately as a woman; and Hushka, after watching him for a moment or two, exclaimed pleasantly: “By the word of the Samgha, Oman, thou hast the look as well as the way of a woman about thee, sometimes.” Oman lifted his head, a gleam of terror in his eyes. “I am not a woman. How, then, should I resemble one?” he demanded fiercely. Hushka, still contemplating him, smiled, but did not answer the question. Then Oman, distressed and angry, sprang to his feet, and began to pace up and down the bank of the stream; and it was five minutes before he could return to his meal. At this time of his life, perhaps what Hushka said about Oman’s appearance was more or less true. His slender figure, dreaming dark eyes, face guiltless of any beard, and hair flowing to his shoulders, might, indeed, have belonged to a woman of high caste. But there was also something about him that was decisively masculine:—whether his manner of carrying himself, the habit of looking any one piercingly in the eye, or his taciturnity, it would be hard to say. But it is very certain that the mingling of two elements in him had produced no weak and vacillating creature, of meagre intellect and silly tongue. Freed from the unhappy surroundings of his youth, Oman was likely henceforth to command both interest and respect; and Hushka’s foregoing remark had been nothing more than a thoughtless and haphazard jest. Oman recovered himself before he sat down again; and, his rice finished, he washed both bowls, and dried them with leaves. Then he rose, supposing that they were to proceed. It seemed, however, that this was the hour for meditation. In imitation of the Sramana, who was wont to sit in concentrated thought for days at a time at the foot of some forest tree, Hushka and his pupil, obeying one of the few rules of “hours,” seated themselves, cross-legged, under different trees, and remained there for a long time, motionless, wrapped in contemplation of Nirvâna—the bliss of emancipation. It was the first time that Oman had ever performed this especial act of worship, which is common to all the higher Indian religions. He found it more interesting than he had imagined it could be; and was glad to think that, at Bágh, much of it would be required in his studies.