“I can please my fancy better,” said Akaza, going back to a plain cupboard, and producing from its shelves two bronze water-pipes, identical with those used by the Chinese to-day. He found also, a chamois pouch of fine-cut tobacco. Filling the bowl with water, he put a tiny pinch of tobacco in the top of the tube, and lighted it by the lamp sitting near. He puffed three times, emptied the pipe, and repeated the process. Yermah denied himself until he had spread out the rugs, and had placed the cushions so that he and Akaza could sleep side by side. When he sat down to smoke, the young man realized how tired he was. The excitement of the day, his exertion, and the rain, caused him to yawn frequently. It was a sign of healthy reaction which pleased the hierophant. Finally, unable to fight drowsiness longer, Yermah threw himself down, and was soon in deep slumber. He stretched out with the abandon and relaxation of a contented mind, throwing one arm up above his head, while his hair spread over the cushions. Akaza watched beside him for a long time. He slept like a child, and the old man looked at him with as much tenderness as ever a mother displayed over the cradle of her first-born. Fondness for Yermah was his one weakness. Alone in the cave at midnight, he indulged it. Without balance and discrimination, this might be mere sentimentality or mawkish sweetness. In the spiritual man, however, balance and discrimination must of necessity be present. Therefore, in Akaza love was strong and firm, as well as tender, wise and far-sighted. Seeing clearly amid the illusions around him, his love welcomed even pain for its object, when by suffering Yermah could gain treasures, and powers and gifts everlasting. He would lift no finger to frustrate the needful work, yet was rent by greater anguish than Yermah himself. Seeing farther and more clearly, he had strength to await the end, giving meanwhile all the sympathy and help of the truest affection. Akaza was sitting with his eyes closed—really dozing when he became suddenly aware of a presence. He looked toward the entrance of the cave, and encountered a pair of yellow eyes glaring at him in the semi-darkness. He was so startled that he gained his feet in an attitude of defense. The eyes gradually lowered, and in a moment Akaza heard a sniffing noise. Before he could cry out the long, tawny body of Oghi came into full view. The animal had its head down and was tracking its master. Akaza watched Oghi approach the sleeping man with unerring instinct. “What is it, Akaza? Dear master, why hast thou not slept?” Yermah asked, sitting bolt upright, not more than half-awake. Oghi beat the ground with his tail, and made a peculiar sneezing sound to attract attention. It was his way of showing pleasure. “He loves thee, also,” said Akaza, as Yermah patted the animal on the head. He was on his feet in a moment.