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It was a curious sort
of a feast, I reflected, in appearance indeed, an entertainment of the
Barmecide stamp, for there was absolutely nothing to eat.
At last, just as I was beginning to feel as though I were being
mesmerised, a move was made. Without the slightest warning, a man from
the other side of the circle called out in a loud voice--
"Where is the flesh that we shall eat?"
Thereon everybody in the circle answered in a deep measured tone, and
stretching out the right arm towards the fire as he spoke--
"_The flesh will come._"
"Is it a goat?" said the same man.
"_It is a goat without horns, and more than a goat, and we shall slay
it,_" they answered with one voice, and turning half round they one and
all grasped the handles of their spears with the right hand, and then
simultaneously let them go.
"Is it an ox?" said the man again.
"_It is an ox without horns, and more than an ox, and we shall slay
it,_" was the answer, and again the spears were grasped, and again let
go.


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