At first Stoutenburg thought that his fevered fancy was playing his eyes a weird and elusive trick, then as the reality of what he saw fully burst upon his senses he uttered a loud and hoarse cry like a savage beast that has been wounded. "Plepshurk! smeerlap!" he cried fiercely. "Rogue! Villain! Menial! Varlet! and all that you care to name me, my lord!" quoth the philosopher lightly, "and entirely at your service." "Jan!" cried Stoutenburg, "Jan! In the name of hell where are you?" "Not very far, my lord," rejoined the other. "Jan is a brave soldier but he was no match for three philosophers, even though one of them at first was trussed like a fowl. Jan stuck to his post, my lord, remember that," he added more seriously, "even when all your other followers and friends were scattered to the winds like a crowd of mice at the approach of a cat. We did not hurt Jan because he is a brave soldier, but we tied him down lest he ran to get assistance whilst assistance was still available." "You insolent knave...." "You speak rightly, my lord: I am an insolent knave, and do so rejoice in mine insolence that I stayed behind here--while my brother philosophers accomplish the task which I have put upon them--on purpose to exercise some of that insolence upon you, and to see what power a man hath to curb his temper and to look pleasant, whilst an insolent knave doth tell him to his face that he is an abject and degraded cur." "Then by Heaven, you abominable plepshurk," cried Stoutenburg white with passion, "since you stayed here to parley with me, I can still give you so complete a retort that your final insolence will have to be spoken in hell. But let me pass now. I have business inside the hut." "I know you have, my lord," rejoined Diogenes coolly, "but I am afraid that your business will have to wait until two philosophers named respectively Pythagoras and Socrates have had time to finish theirs." "What do you mean? Let me pass, I tell you, or...." "Or the wrath of your Magnificence will once more be upon mine unworthy head. Dondersteen! what have I not suffered already from that all-powerful wrath!" "You should have been hanged ere this...." "It is an omission, my lord, which I fear me we must now leave to the future to rectify." "Stand aside, man," cried Stoutenburg, who was hoarse with passion. "No! not just yet!" was the other's calm reply. "Stand aside!" reiterated Stoutenburg wildly. He drew his sword and made a quick thrust at his enemy; he remembered the man's wounded shoulder and saw that his right hand was temporarily disabled. "Ah, my lord!" quoth Diogenes lightly, as with his left he drew Bucephalus out of its scabbard, "you had forgotten or perhaps you never knew that during your followers' scramble for safety my sword remained unheeded in an easily accessible spot, and also that it is as much at home in my left hand as in my right."