CHAPTER XIII
All things, however, come to an end in time, and
that day proved no exception to the rule. After
floundering about among the sandhills for several
hours we reached a dune rather higher than the
rest, and, when we had climbed to its crest, we saw
before us at a little distance a great belt of feathery
palms looking beautifully green and cool after our
long journey over the arid desert, and, nestling by
its side, with its domes and minarets sparkling in the
rays of the declining sun, lay the monastery of
Tamelath, surrounded by a loop-holed wall surmounted
by a curiously scalloped battlement.
I was immediately struck by the enormous area
covered by the buildings. We entered through an
iron plated gate in the walls and proceeded for some
distance into the interior of the monastery without
encountering a soul. It was wonderfully quiet.
Not a sound was to be heard. The place seemed
to be deserted.
Presently we passed under an arcade which
spanned the street. Here we were met by a respectably
dressed man, apparently a servant, who inquired
what we wanted,