There was once a great mountain which rose from the shore of the sea,
and on its flanks it bore a mighty forest. Beyond the crest of the
mountain were ridges and valleys, peaks and chasms, springs and
torrents. Farther on lay a sandy desert, which stretched its
monotonous breadth to the shore of a wide, swift river. What lay
beyond the river no one knew, because its shores were always hid in
azure mist.

Year by year there came up from the shore of the sea an Innumerable
Company. Each one must cross the mountain and the forest, faring
onward toward the desert and the river. And this was one condition of
the journey--that whosoever came to the river must breast its waters
alone. Why this was so, no one could tell; nor did any one know aught
of the land beyond. For of the multitude who had crossed the river not
one had ever returned.

As time went on there came to be paths through the forest. Those who
went first left traces to serve as guides for those coming after. Some
put marks on the trees; some built little cairns of stones to show the
way they had taken in going around great rocks. Those who followed
found these marks and added to them. And many of the travelers left
little charts which showed where the cliffs and chasms were and by what
means one could reach the hidden springs. So in time it came to pass
that there was scarcely a tree on the mountain which bore not some
traveler's mark; there was scarcely a rock that had not a cairn of
stones upon it.

In early times there was One who came up from the sea and made the
journey over the mountain and across the desert by a way so fair that