"No, sir. I left it at Orleen. There's a cavern there similar to this, but smaller. It's there--in the other cavern." "You're sure it's safe?" "Of course." "Where are we going?" George demanded after a moment. "To Fahn's home," Loto answered. "He'll be there with Azeela and Dianne." "Dianne?" George's voice took on a new note of interest. "Who is she?" "Azeela's younger sister," Loto explained briefly. He smiled. "I meant to tell you about her, George. She's a little daredevil--you'll like her." George just smiled, and for some time they walked on in silence. The ground was wet, like muddy clay. There were no lights ahead, but the daylight from the cave's mouth lighted their way. They emerged from the cave and came out onto a road of white sand and clay that led down the mountain slope. Palms lined it thickly. Further down, at the bottom of the quarter-mile descent, houses began; the outskirts of the city. The road soon took on the aspect of a street. It was broad, with narrow pedestrian paths on both sides. Flower gardens, often with hedges of thick, bayonet-like plants, lined the walks. The houses were for the most part almost obscured by palms and trellised vines that were laden with scarlet blossoms. Private, outdoor bathing pools occasionally showed through the garden foliage. It was obviously a residential section. As the party advanced, passers-by grew more numerous. The Bas men were distinguishable by their clipped, bullet-like heads, covered with broad, circular-brimmed hats of straw; their sun-tanned bodies naked above the waist, bare feet, and the wide trousers. The Bas women, also red-brown of skin, were usually clothed merely with a loin cloth and a white sash bound over the breasts, their hair twisted in plaits hanging down the back. The Bas walked always in the road itself. On the pedestrian paths, a few Arans passed by; men with long hair to the base of the neck, and dressed somewhat as Loto had garbed his father and friend. Most of them saluted Loto--a queer, flowing gesture of the left hand--and all of them stared with frank curiosity at the strangers. Occasionally an Aran woman came along--white-swathed, mysterious figures; a twinkle of tiny, black-slippered feet, a flash from alluring eyes veiled by lashes heavily darkened. An Aran man riding a dog went slowly down a side street. A dog pulling a small, three-wheeled cart piled high with merchandise passed in the opposite direction. George edged toward Loto. "Those dogs," he whispered. "They're friendly? Not vicious?" "Of course not," Loto laughed. "Just like regular dogs. Except...well, I'll tell you later." George sighed with relief. "All right. But they're not like any dogs I ever saw at home--they're nearly as big as a horse. And there's something else wrong about them--they're too intelligent. You can see that just by looking at them walk." Presently they turned into the gateway of a hedge solid with white and scarlet blossoms.