the light is as that of night when the moon is young. Still, I wended

on, often losing my path. But from time to time between the tops of

the trees I saw the figure of the grey stone woman who sits on the top

of Ghost Mountain, and shaped my course towards her knees. My heart

beat as I travelled through the forest in dark and loneliness like

that of the night, and ever I looked round searching for the eyes of

the Amatongo. But I saw no spirits, though at times great spotted

snakes crept from before my feet, and perhaps these were the Amatongo.