Alan was going down a pretty lane toward where the air birds were housed when he suddenly became aware of footsteps behind him. He turned—immediately the footsteps ceased, and he could see no one. Thinking he must be mistaken, and fearing nothing from the Keemarnians, he went on his way blithely. The air was deliciously warm, and the fresh breeze, balmy with the scent of flowers, tempered it. Still the footsteps followed with monotonous regularity; as he hastened, so they became quicker; as his died down, so they ceased altogether. Yet he had no sense of fear, no feeling of impending evil; the thought of peril on Keemar was impossible to imagine. The Keemarnians were of a breed as different from the earth to which he belonged, as he was from Heaven! He passed delightful homely fields, gleaming with buttercups and daisies. Friendly cows chewed the cud in sleepy enjoyment. They did not rise as he drew near, but only raised their sleepy heads, and looked at him out of their liquid eyes with interest and friendliness. A pig grunted in a corner as she suckled her squealing young; a donkey brayed; a couple of goats were nibbling the grass while their kids frolicked near them. He saw strange animals too. There was the gorwa of the deer family, a beautiful creature, the colour of a Scottish stag, and its counterpart in miniature, but with none of its brother’s timidity. All the animals on Keemar were of a smaller build than those he had been accustomed to. The cows were even smaller then the little fawn Jerseys so valued in England. He had seen terriers and bull dogs, dalmatians and spaniels in this strange world, and the bigger breeds were all represented on a smaller scale. The Jkak had a dog—a Borzoi, Alan would have called it, yet perhaps it was no bigger than a small Irish terrier; but strangely enough, its beauty was not diminished by its minuteness. So Alan went on. The way was strange to him, but he was enjoying the calmness of the scene, and he knew his excellent bump of locality would sooner or later lead him to Y-Kjesta. Again the footsteps beat time with his own, and anxious for companionship, he stepped into the shadow of a tree, and hoped to waylay a shy, but friendly stranger. A second passed. The footsteps had ceased—then came a rustling, and the head of Kulmervan the Student appeared over a honeysuckle bush. Silently he came forward, alert and watchful until he was on a level with Alan. “Hullo!” said Alan amiably. “Where are you going, Kulmervan?” The effect was magical! Kulmervan jumped as though he had been struck, and his face whitened. He remained silent. “I’m going to see Waz-Y-Kjesta,” went on Alan. “Are you coming my way?” Kulmervan did not reply, but a baleful light gleamed in his eyes, and his mouth twitched. “What’s the matter?” asked Alan curiously.