I am sure he could
not have had the strength to fire, even had he enjoyed the knowledge and
possessed the material to load it. It was his business to mount guard over
the village treasure. The mound he stood upon was at once the mat'mora
that hid the corn store, and the bank that sheltered the silver dollars
for whose protection every man of the village would have risked his life
cheerfully. The veteran took no notice of our arrival: had we been thieves
he could have offered no resistance. He remained silent and stationary,
unconscious that the years in which he might have fulfilled his trust had
gone for ever. All along the way the boundaries of arable land were marked
by little piles of stones and I looked anxiously for some sign of the
curious festival that greets the coming of the new corn, a ceremony in
which a figure is made for worship by day and sacrifice by night; we were
just too late for it. For the origin of this sacrifice the inquirer must
go back to the time of nature worship. It was an old practice, of course,
in the heyday of Grecian civilisation, and might have been seen in
England, I believe, little more than twenty years ago.
Claims for protection are made very frequently upon the road.
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