"Why," he answered, "a luminous point has been detected by earthly telescopes on the disk of Mercury. The phenomenon has been explained as a huge mountain, whose top reflects the sun; yet it is only one of the great reflectors fabricated by these ingenious people." Then at another time: "Professor," said I, "have you made any discoveries relative to that powerful little weapon which the Baigols know so well how to use?" "A few," he answered. "The baton is called a zetbai, and its ammunition is drawn from a peculiar ingredient of the atmosphere. The white tip of the zetbai furnishes the destructive force, while the black tip combats and nullifies it. The inhabitants of this orb, Mr. Munn, have a weapon of such awful power in the zetbai that a dozen of their number, armed with the batons, could descend upon our own globe and devastate it. "Well is it for Terra that means are lacking for interplanetary communication; otherwise the Baigols and their fellow-creatures might prove the Napoleons of the universe. Such a contingency is terrible to contemplate." "Had the zetbai anything to do with that invisible power that stayed us from crossing the circular wall?" "It had everything to do with that. An unseen barrier was placed around us—a barrier of zet, drawn from the atmosphere by these Baigols and made to serve their ends. Unlike powder and ball, which destroy themselves in creating destruction, zet is indestructible; it can be regathered into the zetbai and used over and over again. The resisting medium, controlled by the black tip of the baton, is alone powerful to annul the energy of the white tip." These were the points that impressed me. Another which we discussed, but which did not appeal to me as logical or accurate, had to do with the object of our quest—the Bolla. "With all due respect to Mr. Ocou," said I, "he was certainly talking moonshine when he described the Bolla." "I would not go so far as to say he was talking moonshine, Mr. Munn," the professor answered. "There are stranger things in Heaven, Earth, and Mercury than are dreamed of in our philosophy. Take yourself, for instance. You are a sick man——" "Never sick in my life," I declared. "I mean morally," went on Quinn. "If crime is a disease, you will admit, I think, that you are sick." "No," I averred, "I am healthy in mind and body. I take no stock in Mr. Ocou’s assertions—which ought to prove that I am mentally sound, I take it. But we’ll get this palladium, just the same, for our liberty depends on it." Toward noon of the fourth day, as we drew near the boundaries of Baigadd, we entered a rocky and uneven country, the well-defined road we had been following cutting and circling through the low hills. When we were well in among the bowlders a frantic shout reached us from around a bend in the road a few _spatli_ ahead.