“Put this hair upon my face in as natural a way as you can. You have lived among them all your life, so you should know well how a Korsar’s beard should look.” Horrible as the plan seemed and though she shrank from touching the hair of the dead man, Stellara steeled herself and did as Tanar bid. Little by little, patch by patch, Tanar applied pitch to his face and Stellara placed the hair upon it until presently only the eyes and nose of the Sarian remained exposed. The expression of the former were altered by increasing the size and bushiness of the eyebrows with shreds of Bulf’s beard that had been left over, and then Tanar smeared his nose with some of Bulf’s blood, for many of the Korsars had large, red noses. Then Stellara stood away and surveyed him critically. “Your own mother would not know you,” she said. “Do you think I can pass as a Korsar?” he asked. “No one will suspect, unless they question you closely as you leave the palace.” “We are going together,” said Tanar. “But how?” asked Stellara. “I have been thinking of another plan,” he said. “I noticed when I was living in the barracks that sailors going toward the river had no difficulty in passing through the gate leaving the palace. In fact, it is always much easier to leave the palace than to enter it. On many occasions I have heard them say merely that they were going to their ships. We can do the same.” “Do I look like a Korsar sailor?” demanded Stellara. “You will when I get through with you,” said Tanar, with a grin. “What do you mean?” “There is Korsar clothing here,” said Tanar; “enough to outfit a dozen and there is still plenty of hair on Bulf’s head.” The girl drew back with a shudder. “Oh, Tanar! You cannot mean that.” “What other way is there?” he demanded. “If we can escape together is it not worth any price that we might have to pay?” “You are right,” she said. “I will do it.” When Tanar completed, his work upon her, Stellara had been transformed into a bearded Korsar, but the best that he could do in the way of disguise failed to entirely hide the contours of her hips and breasts. “I am afraid they will suspect,” he said. “Your figure is too feminine for shorts and a shirt to hide it.” “Wait,” exclaimed Stellara. “Sometimes the sailors, when they are going on long voyages, wear cloaks, which they use to sleep in if the nights are cool. Let us see if we can find such a one here.” “Yes, I saw one,” replied Tanar, and crossing the room he returned with a cloak made of wide striped goods. “That will give you greater height,” he said. But when they draped it about her, her hips were still too much in evidence. “Build out my shoulders,” suggested Stellara, and with scarfs and handkerchiefs the Sarian built the girl’s shoulders out so that the cloak hung straight and she resembled a short, stocky man, more than a slender, well-formed girl. “Now we are ready,” said the Sarian. Stellara pointed to the body of Bulf.