silent, gloomy man, as austere as his native hills; and we rode on with
no exchange of speech. Indeed, my thoughts were of a nature that I had
no wish to share with another; so it was some time before the depth of
loneliness which oppressed my spirits enabled me to feel even passing
interest in the things at hand.

"I 'd hate like thunder ter be a-goin' on your trip, Maester John,"
volunteered Seth at last, solemnly turning on the mare's broad back to
face me.

"And why?" I asked, wonderingly; for the man's rare gift of silence had
won him a certain reputation for deep, occult knowledge which I could
not wholly ignore. "It will bring me the sight of some wonderful
country, no doubt."

His shrewd gimlet eyes seemed fairly to pierce me, as he deliberately
helped himself to tobacco from a pouch at his waist.

"Wal, that may all be, Maester John; but I've heerd tell ther is some
most awful things goes on out yonder," and he swung his long arm
meaningly toward the west. "Animyles sich as don't prowl raound yere,
man-yeatin' snakes as big as thet tree, an' the blood-thirstiest
salvages as ever was. An' arter a while ther ain't no more trees
grows, ther lan' is thet poor, by gosh! jist a plumb dead levil er'
short grass, an' no show ter hide ner nuthin'."

"Were you ever there, Seth?" I questioned with growing anxiety, for I
had heard some such vague rumors as these before.

"Me? Not by a dinged sight!" he replied, emphatically. "This yere is