The enormous floor was unbroken by a single pillar and arranged upon it at regular intervals were carven images resting upon gorgeous pedestals. Some of these images were of men and some of women and many of them were beautiful; and there were others of beasts and of strange, grotesque creatures and many of these were hideous indeed. The first we approached was that of a beautiful female figure; and about the pedestal of this lay a number of men and women prone upon the floor against which they bumped their heads seven times and then arose and dropped a piece of money into a receptacle provided for that purpose, moving on then to another figure. The next that Dar Tarus and I visited was that of a man with the body of a _silian_, about the pedestal of which was arranged a series of horizontal wooden bars in concentric circles. The bars were about five feet from the floor and hanging from them by their knees were a number of men and women, repeating monotonously, over and over again, something that sounded to me like, _bibble-babble-blup_. Dar Tarus and I swung to the bars like the others and mumbled the meaningless phrase for a minute or two, then we swung down, dropped a coin into the box, and moved on. I asked Dar Tarus what the words were that we had repeated and what they meant, but he said he did not know. I asked him if anyone knew, but he appeared shocked and said that such a question was sacrilegious and revealed a marked lack of faith. At the next figure we visited the people were all upon their hands and knees crawling madly in a circle about the pedestal. Seven times around they crawled and then they arose and put some money in a dish and went their ways. At another the people rolled about, saying, “Tur is Tur; Tur is Tur; Tur is Tur,” and dropping money in a golden bowl when they were done. “What god was that?” I whispered to Dar Tarus when we had quit this last figure, which had no head, but eyes, nose and mouth in the center of its belly. “There is but one god,” replied Dar Tarus solemnly, “and he is Tur!” “Was that Tur?” I inquired. “Silence, man,” whispered Dar Tarus. “They would tear you to pieces were they to hear such heresy.” “Oh, I beg your pardon,” I exclaimed. “I did not mean to offend. I see now that that is merely one of your idols.” Dar Tarus clapped a hand over my mouth. “S-s-s-t!” he cautioned to silence. “We do not worship idols—there is but one god and he is Tur!” “Well, what are these?” I insisted, with a sweep of a hand that embraced the several score images about which were gathered the thousands of worshippers. “We must not ask,” he assured me. “It is enough that we have faith that all the works of Tur are just and righteous. Come! I shall soon be through and we may join our companions.”