He freed himself, is that whoso bathes in it washes away all taint and speckle of sin.'
'So it is written,' said the curator sadly.
The lama drew a long breath. 'Where is that river, Fountain of Wisdom, where fell the arrow?'
'Alas, my brother, I do not know,' said the curator.
'Nay, if it please thee to forget—the one thing only that thou hast not told me. Surely thou must know? See, I am an old man! I ask with my head between thy feet, O Fountain of Wisdom. We know He drew the bow! We know the arrow fell! We know the stream gushed! Where then is the river? My dream told me to find it. So I came. I am here. But where is the river?'
'If I knew, think you I would not cry it aloud?'
'By it one attains freedom from the Wheel of Things,' the lama went on, unheeding. 'The River of the Arrow! Think again! Some little stream, may be. Dried in the heats? But the Holy One would never so cheat an old man.'
'I do not know. I do not know.'
The lama brought his thousand-wrinkled face once more a hand's breadth from the Englishman's. 'I see thou dost not know. Not being of the Law, the matter is hid from thee.'
'Ay—hidden—hidden.'
'We are both bound, thou and I, my brother. But I'—he rose with a sweep of the soft thick drapery—'I go to cut myself free. Come also!'
'I am bound,' said the curator. 'But whither goest thou?'
'First to Kashi (Benares): where else? There I shall meet one of the pure faith in a Jain temple of that city. He also is a seeker in secret, and from him haply I may learn. May be he will go with me to Buddh Gaya. Thence north and west to Kapilavastu, and
