“But it has been so for a century,” he panted; “hundreds have been unjustly buried alive here. The king thinks it is not murder because they die of starvation. I have stumbled over the bones of giants here in the dark lands, and have met dying men that are stronger than the king's athletes.” “What, are there others here?” gasped the American. The Alphian was silent in astonishment. “Why, where did you come from?” he asked, after a pause. “From New York City.” “I don't know of it, and yet I thought I knew of all the places inside the great endless wall.” Johnston was mystified in his turn. “It is not in your country--your world, or whatever you call it. It is far away.” “Ah, under the white sun! In the 'Ocean Country,' and the world of fierce winds and disease. And you are from there. I had heard of it before they banished me; but two days since I came across a dying man, away over there. He was huddled against the wall, and had fallen and killed himself in his efforts to climb back to food and light. “I saw him die. He told me that he had come from your land when he was a child. His trouble was the lungs and he had fallen off to a skeleton. He talked to me of your wide ocean land. Is it, indeed so great? And has it no walls about it?” “No, it is surrounded by water.” “I cannot understand,” and, after a pause, in which Johnston could hear the great fellow's heart beating, he continued; “That must be the Heaven the man spoke about. And beyond the water is it always dark like this, and do they banish people there as the king has us?” “No; beyond are other countries. But is there no chance for us to escape from here?” The Alphian laughed bitterly. “None. What were you banished for?” “I hardly know.” “Hold out your arm. There,” as he grasped Johnston's arm in a clasp of iron, “I see; you are undeveloped, unfit--none but the healthy and strong are allowed to live in Alpha. It is right, of course; but it is hard to bear. But I must lie down. I am wearied with constant rambling. I am nervous too. I fell asleep awhile ago and dreamt I heard all my friends in a great clamoring body calling my name, 'Branasko!' and then I awoke and cried for help.” As he spoke he sank with a sigh to the ground and rested his head on his elbows and knees and seemed asleep. The American sat down beside him, and, for a long time, neither spoke. Branasko broke the silence; he awoke with a start and eyed his companion in sleepy wonder. “Ugh, I dreamt again,” he grunted, “are you asleep?” “No,” was Johnston's reply. “I am hungry and thirsty and cannot sleep.” “So am I, but we must wait till it is lighter, then we can go in search of food. When I was a boy I learned to catch fish in pools with my hands and it has prolonged my life here. When the light comes again, I shall show you how I do it.” “Then the day does break? I thought it was eternally dark here.”