Now thoroughly puzzled, I wrapped my sheepskin tight round me and stole out. I could see nothing, and heard nothing at first but muffled snores and the swish of the night wind. Then there seemed to mingle with these sounds a low mutter of talk, some way away. I crept towards the sound. As I drew near, pausing at every step to listen, the noise resolved itself into something strangely familiar, which yet for the life of me I couldn't place. I was now so close that I could hear the words. I stood racking my brains to remember where I had heard the like before. Then it came to me, in about as curious a way as you could imagine. I had been feverish all day; now my eyes played me a trick; I began seeing things. The scene was transformed. The shadowy snow-draped mountain side became the verandah of our inn at Nanking, and I was listening again while Philipson spoke in that strange tongue that had so baffled me. The vision faded, but parts of it stood clear. I was actually looking at Philipson now. I had stolen to a sharp bluff of rock and was peeping round the angle of it; and there, not twenty paces from me, assuredly was Saunders Philipson; beyond him, half hidden by his form, something tall and white. Then he himself was hidden in darkness, as was everything else, for a cloud crossed the moon. At the same instant there came a violent puff of wind. When the moon shone out again I could see columns of snow, tall and white, being whirled up on all sides. I withdrew softly towards the tent, but before I reached it there were quick footsteps behind me. I swung round. 'What the devil are you doing here, Mirlees?' demanded Philipson. 'I woke and found the tent-flap open,' I said, 'and came out to see what was up. But what are you doing yourself?' He pointed to the sky, where black clouds were gathering as the wind freshened. 'It sounded to me as if the storm was blowing up again,' he said. 'If it comes on like yesterday we shall have to get up and rearrange the tents.' There was nothing to be said to this. It was a perfectly sound explanation. The only thing was, it was false. What Philipson's object could be in lying to me I couldn't fathom, though I lay awake pondering the mystery long after he was asleep; this much I knew, that for Saunders Philipson to depart from the truth, there would have to be some extremely potent cause. The wind continued to blow in gusts, but at last died down altogether, and I fell into a deep sleep myself. When I woke, Philipson had already left the tent. I could hear him rapping out sharp orders to the bearers, and on going outside myself, I found him energetically superintending the work of striking camp. For the leader of an expedition in such dismal straits as ours he seemed in wonderful spirits. The hillmen were not so cheerful. They wore a look not only of despair but evident terror, and one glance was enough to tell me we were going to have trouble with them.