The vale was shallow, as I have said. We trod the fragments
of an olden approach to the green tunnel so the
descent was not difficult. Here and there beside the path
upreared huge broken blocks. On them I thought I could
see faint tracings as of carvings--now a suggestion of
gaping, arrow-fanged dragon jaws, now the outline of a
scaled body, a hint of enormous, batlike wings.

Now we had reached the first of the crumbling piles
that stretched down into the valley's center.

Half fainting, I fell against Drake, clutching to him for
support.

A stream of utter hopelessness was racing upon us,
swirling and eddying around us, reaching to our hearts
with ghostly fingers dripping with despair. From every
shattered heap it seemed to pour, rushing down the road
upon us like a torrent, engulfing us, submerging, drowning.

Unseen it was--yet tangible as water; it sapped the life
from every nerve. Weariness filled me, a desire to drop
upon the stones, to be rolled away. To die. I felt Drake's
body quivering even as mine; knew that he was drawing
upon every reserve of strength.

"Steady," he muttered. "Steady--"

The Tibetan shrieked and fled, the ponies scrambling