It was now late in the afternoon, and the men, who had been riding hard all day, were glad of rest and food. Languidly, for the air of these pestilential regions has a numbing effect upon the energies of men, the soldiers unsaddled and lighted a fire, round which they crouched, while one of their number cooked the dal and chupatties that served them for their meal. Tom dismounted, tethered his horse to a stake which his men had driven into the ground, and, feeling it unwise to join Bâl Narîn, who never liked to be disturbed when he was working out a fresh idea, strolled about aimlessly. The camels and bullock-carts, carrying their larger supplies, were coming up behind them, so he could not take his own meal; but, in fact, he did not want to eat. The excitement that had been working within him since Bâl Narîn sent him away made him feel that food would choke him. His restlessness, meanwhile, was terrible. He was possessed with those miserable, impossible longings which come to most of us at the great crises of our lives--when our senses and the faculties bestowed upon us by Heaven seem too little for our need; when we crave madly for some indefinite power--some loosening of the bonds of our humanity--some super-sensuous divine knowledge and strength to carry us, at one leap, to the bourne where our restless hearts would be. Secrets, deep as the grave, and high as the infinite azure, are weighing down upon our little lives. In the level light of every-day life we forget them. They circle about us, and we see them not. It is when the light departs--when the little life with its little interests becomes tragic, that they come--this grey host of shadows--and mock us with our impotence. Sometimes we strike out blindly, as children strike at tables. We must know; we will know. It cannot be that we have reached thus far, and that never, through all the infinite ages that must be, we can reach any farther. That would be hideous--revolting to our moral sense. 'Give us light, give us light!' we cry out to the Power which, as God, or Nature, or blind Force, holds our destinies in its hand. 'Give us light, or kill us!' And only the awful silence answers us, 'Neither light nor death, poor soul; only a blind going forward to an unknown goal!'