"Even so," said Braid-Beard. "But behold, my lord, this image is Mujo."

We stood before an obelisk-idol, so towering, that gazing at it, we
were fain to throw back our heads. According to Mohi, winding stairs
led up through its legs; its abdomen a cellar, thick-stored with
gourds of old wine; its head, a hollow dome; in rude alto-relievo, its
scores of hillock-breasts were carved over with legions of baby
deities, frog-like sprawling; while, within, were secreted whole
litters of infant idols, there placed, to imbibe divinity from the
knots of the wood.

As we stood, a strange subterranean sound was heard, mingled with a
gurgling as of wine being poured. Looking up, we beheld, through
arrow-slits and port-holes, three masks, cross-legged seated in the
abdomen, and holding stout wassail. But instantly upon descrying us,
they vanished deeper into the interior; and presently was heard a
sepulchral chant, and many groans and grievous tribulations.

Passing on, we came to an image, with a long anaconda-like posterior
development, wound round and round its own neck.

"This must be Oloo, the god of Suicides," said Babbalanja.

"Yes," said Mohi, "you perceive, my lord, how he lays violent tail
upon himself."

At length, the attendants having, in due order, new-deposed the long
lines of sphinxes and griffins, and many limbed images, a band of
them, in long flowing robes, began their morning chant.