to the barbarian spirits of this region? Believe me, we are on a
curious trail; I am sure that Antinea will be our key to remarkable
discoveries."

"Listen," I said, laying a finger on my lips.

Strange sounds rose from about us as the evening advanced with great
strides. A kind of crackling, followed by long rending shrieks, echoed
and reechoed to infinity in the neighboring ravines. It seemed to me
that the whole black mountain suddenly had begun to moan.

We looked at Eg-Anteouen. He was smoking on, without twitching a
muscle.

"The _ilhinen_ are waking up," he said simply.

Morhange listened without saying a word. Doubtless he understood as I
did: the overheated rocks, the crackling of the stone, a whole series
of physical phenomena, the example of the singing statue of Memnon....
But, for all that, this unexpected concert reacted no less painfully
on our overstrained nerves.

The last words of poor Bou-Djema came to my mind.

"The country of fear," I murmured in a low voice.

And Morhange repeated:

"The country of fear."