Another was Kiron, the soldier, a clean-limbed, handsome, athletic fellow who had served in the army of the jong, but mutinied with the others at the time of the revolution. He was being disciplined now for insubordination to an officer who had been a petty government clerk before his promotion. The third had been a slave. His name was Zog. What he lacked in intelligence he made up in strength and good nature. He had killed an officer who had struck him and was being taken back to Thora for trial and execution. Zog was proud of the fact that he was a free man, though he admitted that the edge was taken off his enthusiasm by the fact that every one else was free and the realization that he had enjoyed more freedom as a slave than he did now as a freeman. “Then,” he explained, “I had one master; now I have as many masters as there are government officials, spies, and soldiers, none of whom cares anything about me, while my old master was kind to me and looked after my welfare.” “Would you like to be really free?” I asked him, for a plan had been slowly forming in my mind. But to my surprise he said, “No, I should rather be a slave.” “But you’d like to choose your own master, wouldn’t you?” I demanded. “Certainly,” he replied, “if I could find some one who would be kind to me and protect me from the Thorists.” “And if you could escape from them now, you would like to do so?” “Of course! But what do you mean? I cannot escape from them.” “Not without help,” I agreed, “but if others would join you, would you make the attempt?” “Why not? They are taking me back to Thora to kill me. I could be no worse off, no matter what I did. But why do you ask all these questions?” “If we could get enough to join us, there is no reason why we should not be free,” I told him. “When you are free, you may remain free or choose a master to your liking.” I watched closely for his reaction. “You mean another revolution?” he asked. “It would fail. Others have tried, but they have always failed.” “Not a revolution,” I assured him, “just a break for liberty.” “But how could we do it?” “It would not be difficult for a few men to take this ship,” I suggested. “The discipline is poor, the night watches consist of too few men; they are so sure of themselves that they would be taken completely by surprise.” Zog’s eyes lighted. “If we were successful, many of the crew would join us,” he said. “Few of them are happy; nearly all of them hate their officers. I think the prisoners would join us almost to a man, but you must be careful of spies—they are everywhere. That is the greatest danger you would have to face. There can be no doubt but there is at least one spy among us prisoners.” “How about Gamfor,” I asked; “is he all right?” “You can depend upon Gamfor,” Zog assured me. “He does not say much, but in his eyes I can read his hatred of them.” “And Kiron?”