It was a long time since I had taken an automobile ride with a girl. The night was warm and moist and fragrant, as are all nights of Poros. I had not been a drinking man on earth, and on the planet Venus I have never chewed the saffra root, but I can never wish for a more intoxicating and exhilarating experience than that ride through the warm fragrant velvet blackness of the Porovian night, with my princess snuggled close at my side. There wasn’t much opportunity for conversation, however, for I was such a novice with these machines that I had to keep pretty much of my entire attention on the control levers and on the road ahead. All went nicely until at a turn of the road I saw a Formian standing ahead of me, holding up one paw as the signal for us to stop. So I halted the kerkool. “Who are you?” he asked. But I had already prepared the replies to such an expected catechism, and so answered readily enough: “We are Jodek and Janek, students at the University of Mooni, now bound for the Royal University of Cupia.” Jodek and Janek being two very common names on Poros, like Smith and Jones on the earth. “This road does not run from Mooni,” said the sentinel, “but rather from Wautoosa; and I well know that there are no Cupians at Wautoosa.” “Then that very piece of knowledge of yours,” I countered, “should convince you that we are not from Wautoosa. As a matter of fact, we are from Saltona”—which was the name of the farming village where I had hunted the whistling bees—“where we were sent by the university authorities to study a new breed of green cows which has been produced there. We left Saltona early this morning and came through Wautoosa about an hour ago. See, here is our pass.” And I showed him an official Formian pass signed by one of the Council of Twelve, and authorizing Jodek and Janek, with one kerkool and their baggage to leave the country by the Third Gate. So far as I could see, there was not the slightest flaw in my story, nor even anything to arouse his suspicion. But evidently the ant-man thought differently, for he proceeded to question me in detail. “Whose kerkool is that?” This was a question which I had not expected. It suddenly occurred to me that, as this was Yuri’s kerkool, it might bear some identifying royal insignia which I had not noticed. And yet it would probably be unwise to admit that it was his, for such an admission might suggest to an intelligent sleuth hound such as my inquisitor seemed to be, that my companion might be the Princess Lilla. What seemed a happy inspiration came to my mind, and I answered: “This kerkool belongs to Prince Toron of Cupia, now assigned to the same department in which we have been studying at Mooni.” “And what department may that be?” “Agriculture, of course.” “Is that how you came to be studying the cows?” “Yes.” I heard Lilla gasp, and felt her hands tighten convulsively on my arm. Evidently I had made some misplay.