desire to begin that last fight of mine in a place like this, where
there was no room to swing a weapon, nor chance to clear a battle
ring.

But all this time the lean preacher from the mountains was
sending forth his angry anathemas, and still holding the strained
attention of the people. And next he set forth before them the
cult of the Gods in the ancient form as is prescribed, and they
(with old habit coming back to them) made response in the words and
in the places where the old ritual enjoins. It was weird enough
sight, that time-honoured service of adoration, forced upon these
wild people after so long a period of irreligion.

They warmed to the old words as the high shrill voice of the
priest cried them forth, and as they listened, and as they realised
how intimate was the care of the Gods for the travails and sorrows
of their daily lives, so much warmer grew their responses.

". . . WHO STILLED THE BURNING OF THE MOUNTAINS, AND MADE
COOL PLACES ON THE EARTH FOR US TO LIVE!--PRAISE TO THE MOST
HIGH GODS.

"WHO GAVE US MASTERY OVER THE LESSER BEASTS AND SKILL OF
TEN TIMES TO PREVAIL!--PRAISE TO THE MOST HIGH GODS. . . ."

"WHO GAVE US MASTERY OVER THE LESSER BEASTS AND SKILL OF
TEN TIMES TO PREVAIL!--PRAISE TO THE MOST HIGH GODS . . . ."

It thrilled one to hear their earnestness; it sorrowed one to
know that they would yet be obdurate and not return to their old