Throughout the afternoon nothing occurred to break this dread monotony save that once there arose a buzz of conversation, and she became dimly aware that some one from the native village which they had passed in the morning had come into the camp. After a time the sounds had died away again, and Ramsa Lal had stepped into view, looking towards her interrogatively; but although she recognized his wish to speak to her, the inertia which now claimed her mind and body prevailed, and she offered him no encouragement to intrude upon her misery. Thus the weary hours passed, until even to the dulled perceptions of Moreen the sounds of unrest and uneasiness pervading the camp began to penetrate. Yet Major Fayne did not return. The insect and reptile life of a Burmese jungle moved around her, but she was curiously indifferent to everything. Without alarm she brushed a venomous spider, fully one inch in girth, from the camp-bedstead, and dully watched it darting away into the jungle undergrowth. Darkness swept down and tropical night things raised their mingled voices; then came Ramsa Lal. "Forgive me, Mem Sahib," he said, "but I must speak to you." She half reclined, looking at him as he stood, a dimly seen figure, before her. "The men from the village," continued he, "come to say that we may not camp. It is holy ground from this place away"--he waved his arm vaguely--"to the end of the jungle where the river is." "I can do nothing, Ramsa Lal." "I fear--for him." "Major Fayne?" "He goes into the jungle to look for something. What does he go to look for? Why does he not return?" Moreen made no reply. "All of them there"--he indicated the direction of the native servants--"know this place. They are already afraid, and, with those from the village coming to warn us, they get more afraid still. This is a haunted place, Mem Sahib." Moreen sat up, shaking off something of the lassitude which possessed her. "What do you mean?" she asked. "In that jungle," replied Ramsa Lal, "there is buried a temple, a very old temple, and in the temple there is buried one who was a holy man. His spirit watches over this place, and none may rest here because of him----" "But the men of the village came here," said Moreen. "Before sunset, Mem Sahib. No man would come here after dark. Look! you will see--they are frightened." Languidly, but with some awakening to the necessities of the situation, Moreen stepped out of the tent and looked across to where, about a great fire, the retinue huddled in a circle. Ramsa Lal stood beside her with something contemptuous in the bearing of his tall figure. "A spell lies upon all this valley, Mem Sahib," he said. "Therefore it is called the Valley of the Just." "Why?" "Because only the just can stay within its bounds through the night." Moreen stared affrightedly. "Do you mean that they die in the night, Ramsa Lal?" "In the night, Mem Sahib, before the dawn." "By what means?" Ramsa Lal spread his palms eloquently.