“Aye,” answered Nya, “all save these dumb people who have been priests of the Tree from generation to generation. To touch its stem is to perish soon or late, for it is the Tree of Life and Death, and in it dwells the Spirit of the whole race.” “What then would happen if it fell down, or was destroyed like your tree, Mother?” “Then the race would perish also,” answered Nya, “since their Spirit would lack a home and depart to the world of Ghosts, whither they must follow. When it dies of old age, if it should ever die, then the race will die with it.” “And if someone should cut it down, Mother, what then?” Now when Noie translated these words to her, the face of the old queen was filled with horror, and as her face was, so was Noie’s face. “White Maiden,” she gasped, “speak not such wickedness lest the very thought of it should bring the curse upon us all. He who destroyed that tree would bring ruin upon this people. They would fly away, every one of them, far into the heart of the forest, and be seen no more by man. Moreover, he who did this evil thing would perish and pass down to vengeance among the ghosts, such vengeance as may not be spoken. Put that thought from thy mind, I pray thee, and let it never pass thy lips again.” “Do you believe all this, Noie?” asked Rachel in English with a smile. “Yes, Zoola,” answered Noie, shuddering, “for it is true. My father told me of it, and of what happened once to some wild men who broke into the sanctuary, and shot arrows at the Tree. No, no, I will not tell the story; it is dreadful.” “Yet it must be foolishness, Noie, for how can a tree have power over the lives of men?” “I do not know, but it has, it has! If I were but to cast a stone at it, I should be dead in a day, and so would you—yes, even you—nothing could save you. Oh!” she went on earnestly, “swear to me, Sister, that you will never so much as touch that tree; I pray you, swear.” So Rachel swore, to please her, for she was tired of this tree and its powers. Then they went down the hill again, till they came to the mouth of the cave. “Enter, Lady,” Nya said, “for this must be thy home a while until thou goest to rule as Mother of the Trees after me, or, if it pleases thee better, up yonder to die.” They went into the cave, having no choice. It was a great place lit dimly by the outer light, and farther down its length with lamps. Looking round her, Rachel saw that its roof was supported by white columns which she knew to be stalactites, for as a child she had seen their like. At the end of it, where the lamps burned and a fountain bubbled from the ground, rose a very large column shaped like the trunk of a tree, with branches at the top that looked like the boughs of a tree. Gazing at it Rachel understood why these dwarfs, or some ancient people before them, had chosen this cave as their temple.