‘They won’t hurt you,’ he said, waiting for Raphael to catch up. ‘They are far too lazy.’ Raphael and the sea horse swam forward side by side. Now that he was more used to this strange method of walking, he found that he could travel quite easily. ‘I met Mrs. Cod,’ he said by way of conversation. The sea horse laughed without changing his expression. ‘I suppose she was as cross as usual. She has come south for the winter and has been complaining of the heat and her family ever since. She belongs farther north, and not in these semi-tropical waters at all,’ the sea horse went on to explain, ‘and her family is really quite a trial. Of course they aren’t all hers. Most fish don’t ever see their children.’ While they were talking, Raphael and the sea horse crossed the plateau and started to descend. The way became rough, and gigantic, moss-covered boulders blocked the path. The seaweed grew thicker, tangling into a rich brown and green jungle of limp branches through which Raphael found it increasingly difficult to force his way. Great lava mountains towered above them in ropy hills and cliffs, or overhung black pits which the rays of the sun could not pierce. ‘Where does the President live?’ asked Raphael after a long silence. ‘Not far from here. I suppose you know that they are all expecting you.’ ‘Who is expecting me?’ ‘His Excellency, the Cabinet, and the Admirals of the North and South Atlantic.’ ‘Really?’ said Raphael, who had ceased to be surprised at anything. ‘Who told them I was coming?’ ‘Gæa, the Queen Mother, sent us word,’ answered the sea horse as he dipped his body respectfully. He seemed disinclined to say more and Raphael politely changed the subject. ‘Would you mind telling me your President’s name?’ ‘Willingly,’ answered the sea horse. ‘The President of the Atlantic democracy is His Excellency, Mr. Albert Right Whale. He was elected, as you may have heard, on account of his size.’ ‘Is the Pacific a democracy also?’ asked Raphael. ‘Oh, dear, no,’ replied the sea horse proudly. Just then the path they were following joined a broad highway of white sand which ran between two high mountains. Along this road swam thousands of fish, more fish than Raphael had ever seen. For the most part they drifted along in schools: gray snappers, muttonfish, and red and black groupers. Occasionally Raphael and his guide passed a sting ray asleep like a mottled fungus on the ocean floor. And once they came upon an immense octopus shambling along on his knuckles. The road gradually narrowed to a gateway between two walls of black obsidian. Most of the fish made no effort to pass this barrier, but swam slowly in a circle about the entrance. Many of them turned away and drifted silently back the way they had come like ghosts. ‘Here we are,’ said the sea horse. ‘Follow me.’ [Illustration] CHAPTER V HIS EXCELLENCY THE PRESIDENT