Suddenly now I felt more than before the restrictions of my situation, and they galled me. I had committed no crime. I was a peaceful visitor to Vepaja. I had neither the desire nor the power to harm anyone. These considerations decided me. I determined to force the issue. A few minutes ago I had been contented with my lot, willing to wait the pleasure of my hosts; now I was discontented. What had induced this sudden change? Could it be the mysterious alchemy of personality that had transmuted the lead of lethargy to the gold of ambitious desire? Had the aura of a vision of feminine loveliness thus instantly reversed my outlook upon life? I turned toward Danus. “You have been very kind to me,” I said, “and my days here have been happy, but I am of a race of people who desire freedom above all things. As I have explained to you, I am here through no intentional fault of my own; but I am here, and being here I expect the same treatment that would be accorded you were you to visit my country under similar circumstances.” “And what treatment would that be?” he asked. “The right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness—freedom,” I explained. I did not think it necessary to mention chambers of commerce dinners, Rotary and Kiwanis luncheons, triumphal parades and ticker tape, keys to cities, press representatives and photographers, nor news reel cameramen, the price that he would undoubtedly have had to pay for life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. “But, my dear friend, one would think from your words that you are a prisoner here!” he exclaimed. “I am, Danus,” I replied, “and none knows it better than you.” He shrugged. “I am sorry that you feel that way about it, Carson.” “How much longer is it going to last?” I demanded. “The jong is the jong,” he replied. “He will send for you in his own time; until then, let us continue the friendly relations that have marked our association up to now.” “I hope they will never be changed, Danus,” I told him, “but you may tell Mintep, if you will, that I cannot accept his hospitality much longer; if he does not send for me soon, I shall leave on my own accord.” “Do not attempt that, my friend,” he warned me. “And why not?” “You would not live to take a dozen steps from the apartments that have been assigned you,” he assured me seriously. “Who would stop me?” “There are warriors posted in the corridors,” he explained; “they have their orders from the jong.” “And yet I am not a prisoner!” I exclaimed with a bitter laugh. “I am sorry that you raised the question,” he said, “as otherwise you might never have known.” Here indeed was the iron hand in the velvet glove. I hoped it was not wielded by a wolf in sheep’s clothing. My position was not an enviable one. Even had I the means to escape, there was no place that I could go. But I did not want to leave Vepaja—I had seen the girl in the garden. VI GATHERING TAREL