Sugriva said, "I am quite content that you do not know how to operate the Bow, my son. It is too dreadful a weapon to be lightly exploited. But if the time ever should come for its use--" So the pact was drawn up, and the several races became signatories. It was a direct and challenging blow to the ambitions of the Lord Ravana, one that he swallowed with difficulty. But swallow it he did--though perhaps one of the greatest contributing factors to his signing was the fact that at the final meeting were ranged beside Sugriva the time-exiles--and that in Ramey's ready hand dangled nonchalantly the dreaded Bow of Rudra. * * * * * But the days at Chitrakuta, for such by now they had all learned to be the Gaanelian name for the temple they had known as Angkor Vat, were not all concerned with study or the grim business of government. There were hours of relaxation, too. Red Barrett, for one, was thoroughly enjoying the championship of the beautiful damsel who had been placed in his care days before. Of course she proved a baffling bundle of loveliness in some respects. As on the first day, when Ramey chanced upon the duo in time to hear Red demanding perplexedly, "How? How's that? Come again, Toots!" And: "Ich hight Evavne ab Daffydd y Marwnadd, mihr gneight," repeated his lovely charge demurely. Red moaned. "Hey, Doc!" he yelled, "Hey, Sheila! Anybody got any spirits of ammonia with them? Toots, here, has the hiccups!" Ramey went to his chum's aid. "What's wrong, Red?" "It's Toots, here," complained Red aggrievedly. "I said to her, 'Look, Toots, I can't keep calling you "Toots" all the time. What's your real name?' So instead of giving me a straight answer, she makes with the double talk." Dr. Aiken, who had been listening with amusement, now spoke up. "But the young lady _did_ answer you, Barrett. She said she was 'Evavne, daughter of David and Marian.' And--" The old man smiled slyly--"I believe you've made something of an impression, my boy. She called you her--er--'knight'!" "Yeah?" grinned Barrett. "Well, gee! That's okay, ain't it? Evavne, huh? Not a bad handle, Toots. But after this, you better talk English." "She _is_ talking English, Red." "Huh? Aw, now, Doc--" "Well, let us say, then, she is speaking the ancient tongue from which modern English derives. I fancy--" said Dr. Aiken speculatively--"our charming friend is a daughter of one of those races which first settled the British Isles. A Pict, or a Celt." "All I got to say," grumbled Red, "is that going in the _vilyishna_ with us didn't do much good if that's the best English she can talk. Come on, Toots. You and me is going to see Sugriva and have him arrange another language-exchange in the recording booth." And together they left on the expedition which was to remove their last lingual difficulty. They had no other kind. * * * * *