In less than five minutes we three colossi were stoutly encompassed by the net, hurled together and thrown in a helpless jumble. The web was finely woven and of a material that defied our efforts to break through it. Professor Quinn made a fierce attempt to use his word-box, but he was held so rigidly that he could not do so. One by one we were disentangled, the upper parts of our bodies were wrapped about in sections of the net so that only our legs were free, and we were forced to proceed with our captors, the army marching on every side of us. Meigs was loudly bewailing his evil fortune. "Take heart, man!" cried Quinn. "If I can see the king or get word to him I am sure that all will yet be well." "It’s all day with us," returned Meigs with a groan, "and you cannot make me believe otherwise." There was no twilight in the nether kingdoms. Day leaped into night as swiftly as a curtain falls on a stage play. Long before we reached our destination we were in Stygian blackness. There were no artificial illuminants known to the creatures of the under-world, and they had no need of them. Their single eyes were gifted with power to see at night almost as keenly as in the daytime. When we had traveled several hours we were made to halt and a circle of zet, similar to the one that had imprisoned Quinn and myself in Baigol, was reared around us. Thereupon we were freed of the nets and left to ourselves. The instant he was able to make use of his hands the professor grabbed his word-box and began shooting questions into the opaque gloom that hemmed us in. "Why have you taken us prisoners? What harm have we ever done you? We are under the protection of King Golbai. Did not the captain of the other detachment so inform you?" Answer came back: "You have been taken prisoners because you resisted the royal authority and tried to protect a man who stole goods from our regal master. Theft of goods from his majesty’s storehouse is punishable with death. Even ambassadors from King Golbai are not above the laws of our realm." "What is to be our fate?" "Zet," was the laconic answer. "You will all three be slain by the executioner-general as soon as may be after the great reflector sends its first gleam of day through the kingdom." That ended the professor’s talk with our unseen enemy who, presumably, was the high chief of the forces. It was sufficiently discouraging, although I was reckless enough to ease my feelings with a few expletives on Key 7—the most insolent and defiant that I had learned in Baigol. "Mr. Munn, Mr. Munn!" cried Quinn in rebuke. "This is no time to express yourself in that key." "I am not endowed with your magnificent forbearance, professor," said I, "and I had to say something." "What’s it all about, anyway?" asked Meigs. "We are to die at sunrise, Meigs," I answered roughly, "or as soon after sunrise as the executioner-general may find it convenient."