The priest and the judge crossed themselves three times, and the latter raised his eyes most devoutly to a picture of Peter, hanging on the wall, as if he would call on him for help.

"You seem to me a courageous youth since you dare go near the Devil's garden," said the Lieutenant. "Will you show me the way?"

The Wallachian expressed by the pleasure in his face that he would gladly show him the way.

"In the name of Saint Nicholas and all the archangels, do not go there, my lord!" cried the priest. "Nobody who has ever wandered there has returned. The godly do not turn their steps that way. This youth has been led thither by his sins."

"I do not go there of my own accord," said Clement, scratching his head. "Not that I am afraid of the name of the country, but I do not like to climb around over mountains. However my office requires it and I must fulfil my duty."

"Then at least fasten a consecrated boat on your cap," urged the anxious shepherd of souls. "Or else take a picture of Saint Michael with you so that the devils cannot come near you."

"Thank you, my good people. But you would do better if you would get me a pair of sandals; I cannot go through the mountains in these spurred boots. Your safeguards I can make no use of, for I am a Unitarian."

At this reply the priest crossed himself and said with a sigh:

"I thought you were a true believer, you inquired so zealously about the witches."

"This is only my official duty, not my belief. Send me the Turk."

As he went out, the Pope murmured half aloud,

"You go well together,--two pagans."

"Comrade Zulfikar," called out Clement to the Turk as he entered, fastening on the sandals that had been brought, "you can look out for your own route now, for I must take a little side-dodge into the mountains."

"If you dodge, I will dodge too," replied the distrustful deserter.

"Wherever you go, I will go."

"Where I am going, my dear friend, there is nothing to put in your pocket; it must be you wish to bag the devil, for no human being has ever set foot there."

"How do I know where the people live in this confounded country of yours! My orders were to go with you until I reached the starting-point again."

"All the better, for there will be more of us. Help me draw my sword out of the scabbard, so I can defend myself if necessary."

"So you carry a sword that it takes two men to draw. Let me get hold of it."

The two men planted their feet, grasped the sword with both hands and tugged at it for some time. At last it came out of its scabbard, almost throwing Clement over backward. Then Clement took a pitcher of honey, rubbed the rusty sword with the sticky stuff and put it back into its scabbard.

"Now we must be on our way, young man," he said to the Wallachian.

The latter at once took up his hat and his axe from the ground and went ahead without as much as one glance back at the dead. His mother seized him by the hand.

"Will you not kiss your dead love?"

Sanga-moarta did not so much as look--pulled his hand away from his mother's, and went with the two strangers out into the deep darkness of the forest.

All night long these adventurers wandered through a deep valley from which they could just catch sight of the giant summits rising on all sides; directly overhead glimmered a strip of starry sky. Toward morning they reached the midst of the mountains. What a sight that was! Along the shining crystal peaks stretched dark green forest--on one side rose a crag of basalt, with columns like organ pipes in rows, topped by trees. In front of this crag of basalt a white cloud moved, but the summit and base of the rock were to be seen; from time to time the lightning flashed through the cloud but it was some time before the roll of the thunder rang through the organ pipes. At a little distance is a cleft in the rocks, and the two parts look as if their jagged edges would fit together. Through the ravine several fathoms wide, a branch of the cold Szomas forces its way and is lost again among the thick oaks along the shore. In another place the rocks are piled up in stairs not intended however for human foot, for each step is as high as a house. Again the rocks are tumbled together in such a way that the entire mountain mass would fall into other forms if the rock beneath were moved from its position. Everything indicates that here the rule of man has found its limit. From the dizzying height not a single hut is seen; on all sides are bold crags and yawning chasms through which the mountain streams roll tumultuously. Only the ibex wanders from crag to crag.

"Which way are we going?" Clement asked his guide, looking anxiously about, where there was every possibility of losing oneself irrecoverably.

"Trust yourself to me," replied Sanga-moarta, and he led them with confident knowledge of the place through this unfrequented region.

In places where a path seemed hardly possible, he knew where to find the way over the cleft rocks. He had noticed every root that could help one in climbing; every tree-trunk bridging a chasm; every narrow ledge of rock where one could step by clinging to its projections; in short, he moved through this labyrinth with the utmost confidence.

"We are near the end," he said, suddenly, after he had climbed a steep wall of rock and looked over the country, and he stretched his hand down and drew the others up after him. The scene was now changed. The declivity of the rock that they had mounted was under them; a smooth surface in semi-circular shape formed a basin hundreds of fathoms deep, where the dark green water of a mountain lake gleamed. There was no breeze but the lake was broken with foam. The opposite side of the basin was formed by a group of mountains with fir trees at the base, and where the two mountain masses came together a small stream flowed into this lake, over which the ice that tumbled into the valley made a crystal arch.

"Where will that bring us?" Clement asked, with horror.

"To the head of the stream," replied Sanga-moarta. "It has made its way through the ice and if we follow its track we shall reach the place we seek."

"But how shall we get there? This wall of rock is as smooth as glass, one slip and there is nothing between us and the bottom of the lake."

"You must take care, that is all. You will have to lie down on your back and slip down sidewise. Now and then you will find a bush of Alpine roses that you can cling to; but there is no danger of slipping if you are barefoot,--follow my example."

A blood-curdling pleasure awaited them. The men took off their shoes and clung firmly with hands and feet to the smooth wall of stone. They had gone barely half way when there was a mysterious sound from the opposite mountains; it seemed as if the rocks beneath them trembled.

"Stay where you are," shouted Sanga-moarta to the others. "There is a snow-slide."

And the next moment could be seen the white ball set in motion in the remote mountains, rolling down the steep heights, tearing along with it rocks and uprooted trees, growing every instant more terrible; and as it made great bounds to the valley it shook the mountain to its very foundations.

"Oh my God!" cried Clement, trying to reach the guide with one hand while he clung to the rock with the other. "It will come and kill us all."

"Stay where you are," Sanga-moarta called out to them, when he saw that they were trying to climb up and would so expose themselves to the danger of slipping back. "This slide is going toward that rock and there it will be either broken or held fast."

It was true that the snow-slide, now grown to mammoth size, was rolling toward a jutting cliff that seemed dwarf-like in comparison.

The roll of the avalanche had grown so loud that every other sound was lost in its thundering roar. Now the snow plunged against the rock in its path, struck its peak with a fearful bound and gave the whole mountain such a shock that it quivered to its foundations. For a moment the entire vicinity was covered with a cloud of snow flying with the velocity of steam. After the last clap, the thunder ceased.

Then followed a frightful cracking. The avalanche had torn the opposing rock from its base and the two plunged down into the lake below them. This, lashed to foam, engulfed the mass and its waves, mounting fearfully, rose to the height of fifty fathoms, where the bold climbers were clinging to the face of the rock. Then the waves settled back, for a few moments took the form of a towering green column which finally subsided, and after some time quiet again ruled over the waters.

Clement lay there more dead than alive, while Sanga-moarta's first look was to see if the bed of the stream had been overflowed by the war of the waters. But the mass of snow had plunged into the lake without raising it a foot; all had disappeared in the bottomless depths; a mountain lake neither rises nor falls.

"Let us go on our way," said Sanga-moarta. "It will be all the easier now that the rock is wet, to climb down."

In the course of half an hour they had reached the mouth of the stream. A wonderful passage opened before them. The stream had its source in a warm spring, which following the course of the valley, was buried under mountains and avalanches. The warm water had hollowed out a covered passage, so melting the ice that only its outer surface remained frozen, and this was constantly added to by the influence of the atmosphere, while within it was as constantly melted by the warmth of the spring; the result was that the stream flowed under a crystal archway with glittering icicles. Into this passage Sanga-moarta led his companions. Clement could only think of the magic palaces in fairy tales, where the enchanted mortal got the sunlight through transparent water. As they were wading along the stream at one point the underground passage suddenly grew dark. Heavy masses took the place of the transparent vaulting. The crusting of ice was thicker; it changed to dark blue, and to black; the noise of the waters was the only guide. The men, up to their knees in the water, found it growing warmer and warmer until finally they heard a hissing, and through a cleft in the rock caught sight of the sunlight once more. At the source of the spring, as they clung to some bushes to resist the force of the boiling waters, they found themselves in a deep, well-like valley.

"We are in the Gregyina-Drakuluj."

It is a round valley with mountains rising about it several hundred feet high. If you would look down from their summits you must crawl on your stomach to the edge of the cliff, and then unless you have strong nerves you will fall from the dizzying height. In this valley-bed below the flowers are always in bloom; in the sternest winter season here you can find those dark green plants with broad indented leaves; those small round-leaved trees that are nowhere else in the country.

The yellow cups of the leather-leaved water-lilies open just at this time. The place is covered, summer and winter, with freshest green; the wild laurel climbs high in the crevices of the rocks and throws its red berries down into the valley, while all around is cold and dead.

The whole winter through the valley is covered with the rarest flowers. That is why the Wallachian calls it the Devil's garden, and is afraid to go near it. Yet the miracle has a purely natural cause.

In a hole in the depth of the valley is a hot mineral spring that never comes to light, but warms through the earth above; and, as warm waters have their own peculiar flora, these strange plants flourish there beside their quickening element. The whole place is like a greenhouse in the open air amid storms and ice mountains.

Sanga-moarta beckoned silently to his comrades to follow him. A feverish unrest was noticeable throughout his whole being. After a few steps he pointed with trembling hand to a dark hollow where there was an iron door.

"What is that?" cried Clement, reaching for his sword. "Is this hollow inhabited?"