During the following days, as the Ibandru gradually returned and the village began to take on an inhabited appearance, I tried to forget the mystery that still brooded about us, and cheerfully resumed my last year's activities, almost as if there had been no interruption. More days than not I worked in the fields with the other men; occasionally Yasma and her kindred accompanied me on the mountain trails, exploring many a splintered ridge and deeply sunken gorge; in the evening I would sit with the tribesmen around the communal fire, exchanging anecdotes and describing over and over again my far-off, almost dreamy-dim life in my own land. And once again Yasma and I were happy. The glamour of our first few wedded months was revived; we had almost forgotten that the glow could ever fade, scarcely remembered the old omens and predictions; and if any of the villagers ever muttered their secret fears, they made sure that we were well out of hearing. Yet all the while I realized that we were living in a house of glass, and Yasma must have realized it too; and in bad dreams at times I heard the rumbling of approaching storms, and saw the fragile walls of paradise come clattering about our feet in ruins. * * * * * Only one notable event occurred between the return of the Ibandru and the flight of the first birds southward. And that was an event I had awaited for two years, and would once have welcomed fervently. As it happened, it had little immediate effect; but it broke rocket-like upon my tranquillity, awakened long-slumbering desires, and brought me bright and vivid visions of the world I had lost. It was in mid-July that I took an unexpectedly interesting expedition among the mountains. Yasma accompanied me, as always; Karem and Barkodu and a dozen other natives completed the party. We were to carry copious provisions, were to venture further into the wilderness than I had ever penetrated before, and were not to return in less than three days, for we intended to journey to a snowy western peak where grew a potent herb, "the moleb," which Hamul-Kammesh recommended as a sure cure for all distempers of the mind and body.