always fell back into the common dish; and when they choked, by

reason of the rapidity with which they attempted to bolt their

food, they often lost it all. Bradley was glad that he had a

pedestal all to himself.

Soon the keeper of the place returned with a wooden bowl filled

with food. This he dumped into Bradley's "trough," as he already

thought of it. The Englishman was glad that he could not see

into the dark alcove or know what were all the ingredients that

constituted the mess before him, for he was very hungry.

After the first mouthful he cared even less to investigate the

antecedents of the dish, for he found it peculiarly palatable.

It seemed to consist of a combination of meat, fruits,

vegetables, small fish and other undistinguishable articles of

food all seasoned to produce a gastronomic effect that was at

once baffling and delicious.

When he had finished, his trough was empty, and then he commenced

to wonder who was to settle for his meal. As he waited for the

proprietor to return, he fell to examining the dish from which he

had eaten and the pedestal upon which it rested. The font was of

stone worn smooth by long-continued use, the four outer edges

hollowed and polished by the contact of the countless Wieroo

bodies that had leaned against them for how long a period of time

Bradley could not even guess. Everything about the place carried

the impression of hoary age. The carved pedestals were black

with use, the wooden seats were worn hollow, the floor of stone

slabs was polished by the contact of possibly millions of naked

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