292 TROPIC DAYS 



fig-tree, the way down was easy enough, and, choosing 

 the left wall of the ravine, I began a perilous climb out 

 of gloom into sunshine, upon a conglomeration of im- 

 mense granite boulders, over which the Sentinel cast a 

 shadow. This shadow indicated that the ascent had 

 occupied at least three hours, and in my self-complacency 

 I had calculated to beard the "debil-debil" in his den, 

 dislodge the crystal, and be back at the camp gloating 

 over the escapade to open-eyed Wylo in less time. 



Though a night was to be spent in the haunt of the 

 evil spirit, yet would I proceed. I found not one but 

 many "oo-nang-mugils," lowering caves and clefts in 

 which scores of fearsome " debil-debils " might lurk, 

 but which, as far as a vigilant mortal could detect, 

 were given over to innocent bats and those sun-loving 

 swiftlets which rear their young in nests adherent to 

 rocks in dusky places. 



Over and beneath boulders, squirming through 

 bolt-holes and up flue-like openings, bruised and with 

 bleeding hands, at last the top was reached, harsh with 

 granite, and there to the right, on a gigantic splintered 

 boulder which seemed to block the end of the ravine 

 and to peer down into the blue bay below, was the crystal 

 glinting in sunshine. It was not more than fifty yards 

 away, and, easeful of mind, I sat down to munch a piece 

 of damper. Close by a patch of vivid green moss indi- 

 cated the existence of moisture and the further possi- 

 bility of water. Sure enough, twenty yards down 

 spongy moss and fern spread over a lip of rocks, and 

 from dangling tufts and drooping fronds water dripped 

 in melodious splashes into a shallow depression, and 

 overflowed in a fan-shaped film. The facets and apex 

 of the crystal reflected harsh brightness as unsullied as 

 the moss-filtered, unstable drips which gathered second 

 by second and were gone. How like those drips, how 



