Chapter 12 - Page 2

his ears, old Mohi's to
his nostrils, and Babbalanja vainly trying to walk with closed eyes,
we toiled among steep, flinty rocks, along a wild, zigzag pathway;
like a mule-track in the Andes, not so much onward as upward; Yoomy
above Babbalanja, my lord Media above him, and Braid-Beard, our guide,
in the air, above all.

Strown over with cinders, the vitreous marl seemed tumbled together,
as if belched from a volcano's throat.

Presently, we came to a tall, slender structure, hidden among the
scenic projections of the cliffs, like a monument in the dark, vaulted
ways of an abbey. Surrounding it, were five extinct craters. The air
was sultry and still, as if full of spent thunderbolts.

Like a Hindoo pagoda, this bamboo edifice rose story above story; its
many angles and points decorated with pearl-shells suspended by cords.
But the uppermost story, some ten toises in the air, was closely
thatched from apex to floor; which summit was gained by a series of
ascents.

What eremite dwelleth here, like St. Stylites at the top of his
column?--a question which Mohi seemed all eagerness to have answered.

Dropping upon his knees, he gave a peculiar low call: no response.
Another: all was silent. Marching up to the pagoda, and again dropping
upon his knees, he shook the bamboos till the edifice rocked, and its
pearl-shells jingled, as if a troop of Andalusian mules, with bells
round their necks, were galloping along the defile.

At length the thatch aloft was thrown open, and a head was thrust
forth. It was that of an old, old man; with steel-gray eyes, hair and
beard, and a horrible necklace of jaw-bones.

Now, issuing from the pagoda, Mohi turned about to gain a view of the
ghost he had raised; and no sooner did he behold it, than with King
Media and the rest, he made a marked salutation.

Presently, the eremite pointed to where Yoomy was standing; and waved
his hand upward; when Mohi informed the minstrel, that it was St.
Stylites' pleasure, that he should pay him a visit.

Wondering what was to come, Yoomy proceeded to mount; and at last
arriving toward the top of the pagoda, was met by an opening, from
which an encouraging arm assisted him to gain the ultimate landing.

Here, all was murky enough; for the aperture from which the head of
the apparition had been thrust, was now closed; and what little
twilight there was, came up through the opening in the floor.

In this dismal seclusion, silently the hermit confronted the minstrel;
his gray hair, eyes, and beard all gleaming, as if streaked with
phosphorus; while his ghastly gorget grinned hideously, with all its
jaws.

Mutely Yoomy waited to be addressed; but hearing no sound, and
becoming alive