"The--Indian rope trick!" Bbulas spluttered. "Why, the--" And then he recollected his religious vocation, as well as his supposed ignorance. "Would you be so kind as to tell me what the Indian rope trick is, good sirs?" "Well, he did it with a chain, actually." "We have no ropes on this planet," Larhgan contributed. "We are backward." "And a small boy went up and disappeared," Raoul finished. Suddenly forgetting the stiff-upper-lip training for which the planet had gone to such great expense, Bbulas spun around and around in a fit of bad temper, to Skkiru's great glee. Fortunately, the Dilettante retained enough self-control to keep his feet on the ground--perhaps remembering that to fail to do so would compound Skkiru's crime. "Dervishism!" Raoul exclaimed, his eyes incandescent with interest. He pulled out his notebook. After biting his lip thoughtfully, Cyril did the same. "Just like Skkiru!" Bbulas gasped as he spun slowly to a stop. "He is a disruptive cultural mechanism. Leading children astray!" "But not at all," Raoul pointed out politely. "The boy came back unharmed and in the best of spirits." "So far as we could see," Cyril amended. "Of course there may have been psychic damage." "Which boy was it?" Bbulas demanded. * * * * * Cyril pointed to the urchin in question--a rather well-known juvenile delinquent, though the Terrestrials, of course, couldn't know that. "He is a member of my own clan," Bbulas said. "He will be thrashed soundly." "But why punish him?" Raoul asked. "What harm has he done?" "Shhh," Cyril warned him. "You may be touching on a tabu. What's the matter with you, anyway? One would think you had forgotten every lesson you ever learned." "Oh, I am truly sorry!" Raoul's face became a pleasing shade of pink, which made him look much more human. Maybe it was the wrong color, but at least it was a color. "Please to accept my apologies, reverend sir." "It's quite all right." Bbulas reverted to graciousness. "The boy should not have associated with a beggar--especially that one. If he did not hold his post by time-hallowed tradition, we would--dispose of him. He has always been a trouble-maker." "But I do not understand," Raoul persisted. Skkiru could not understand why Cyril did not stop him again. "The beggar did the trick very effectively. I know it was all illusion, but I should like to know just how he created such an illusion, and, moreover, how the Indian rope trick got all the way to--" "It was all done by magic," Bbulas said firmly. "Magic outside the temple is not encouraged, because it is black magic, and so it is wrong. The magic of the priests is white magic, and so it is right. Put that down in your little book." Raoul obediently wrote it down. "Still, I should like to know--" "Let us speak of pleasanter things," Bbulas interrupted again. "Tomorrow night, we are holding a potlatch and we should be honored to have the pleasure of your company."