and three or four women, who are attached to the shrine, crave alms for the
God. They and their forbears, they tell you, have been the officiating
priests for years; wherefore, desirous of testing their knowledge, you
enquire who built these mighty dwelling-places. "Hindus of a thousand years
ago," say they, "who desired to acquire merit." But ask the untutored
villager who has guided you up the hill; and straightway comes the
answer:--"Sahib, these were not built by man, but by the Gods ere man
came hither!"

Outside the cave is a pleasant verandah and balus trade, whence you look
down over the bare lower slopes to the garden-studded course of the river.
Beyond lies a long low trail of vapour, which marks the position of Junner,
and behind that again climb heaven-ward the Manmoda hills. On the right,
with its ruined mosque and conning-tower grey in the morning light, the
massive pile of Shivner frowns over the valley, like some dismasted
battleship, hurled upwards into sudden petrifaction by the hands of Titans.
It is an impressive scene--the pre-Christian monastery behind you; the
relics of Musulman and Maratha sovereignty in front; and below, bathed in a
sea of morning-mist which Surya is hastening to disperse, Junner, the town
of ancient memories, in her latest _avatar_ of a British Taluka
Headquarter station. Let us hope that the monuments which we raise will
last as long as those of Buddhist monk or Mahomedan Killedar.




X.

A BHANDARI MYSTERY.