became very hard to find. At one point, so the story is told, there
were twenty-nine distinct paths, leading in as many directions; each of
these, if the Chart be true, came to its end in some frightful chasm.
With these there was a single narrow trail that led to safety; but no
two leaders could agree as to which was the right trail. One thing
only was certain: the true way was very hard to find, and no traveler
might discover it unaided.

And some declared that the Chart was complicated beyond all need.
There was one who said, "The multiplication of non-essentials has
become the bane of the forest." Even a little meadow which he had
found, and which he called the "Saints' Rest," was so entangled in
paths and counterpaths that once out of sight of it one could never
find it again.

All this time there were many bands that wandered about in circles,
finding everywhere cairns of stones, but no way of escape. Still
others remained day after day in the shadow of great rocks, disputing
and doubting as to how they should pass by them. There were arguments
and precedents enough for any course; but arguments and precedents made
no man sure.

And it came to pass that most travelers followed the band they found
nearest. At last, to join some band became their only care. And they
looked with pity and distrust upon those who traveled alone.

But the bands all made their way very slowly. No matter how wise the
leader, not all were ready to move at once, and not all could keep step
to the sound of even the slowest trumpet. There was often much ado at
nightfall over the pitching of the tents, and many were crowded out