“I propose that we dine,” Cabot wearily replied. Once more he must take the field as winko of the troops of a nation. And that being so, the question of prime importance was: “When do we eat?” So the whole party adjourned to the banquet hall of the palace, where a rough fare, somewhat hastily gathered, was served. And there, after the meal, was held a conference of war. There Portheris, the leader of the whistling bees, joined them. “First,” Myles Cabot asserted from the head of the table, “let me lay down the principle that the mistake of the last war must not be repeated. We must ask no quarter, and give none. We must go on until there is not a single Formian left living on the face of all Poros. For there is no room on any given planet for more than one race of intelligent beings. What do you say?” Hah Babbuh, his chief of staff, answered: “I agree with you. And I believe that the rabble have learned their lesson. But it all depends on Count Kamel. It was he, more than anyone else, who blocked the successful completion of the last war.” “Make him a sarkar, and he’ll stand for anything,” Prince Toron dryly observed. “You remember how he gave up his agitation for a two-hour day, when you made him minister of public works. And he has been fighting loyally in our ranks ever since this present war started.” A laugh went up from all those present. “No quarter is all very well,” the Princess Lilla interjected from the other end of the table, “but what about the prisoners in the stadium? You can’t shoot them down in cold blood, can you?” “We might invoke the _ley fuego_,” replied her husband. “What is that?” “That is an old Spanish custom in vogue on my own planet,” he explained. “Political prisoners, whose continued existence might prove embarrassing, are let loose, and then are pursued and shot for ‘attempting to escape.’” “A dirty trick!” Toron objected. “Much like that which Satan, the Formian, played on you in Wautoosa years ago,” Lilla added. Cabot grimaced. “And,” Hah Babbuh added, with a smile at his chief’s discomfiture, “the situation is complicated by the fact that our old ant friend, Doggo, is one of the prisoners in the stadium.” Cabot grimaced again. “I seem to be cornered,” he observed. “And yet,” said Nan-nan, the priest, “the death of all these black pests is the price of peace on Poros.” Just then a messenger entered the room and saluted. “Sire,” said he, addressing Hah Babbuh, “the prisoners in the stadium have obtained arms and are holding it against our troops.” “Thank the Great Builder,” Nan-nan reverently exclaimed, “for He has solved our problem for us!” “How did they get the arms?” Cabot asked. “Airplanes from the south,” the messenger answered, “which took advantage of the fact that our fleet is busy attacking Wautoosa.” “We must bomb them out,” Toron suggested. Hah Babbuh gave orders accordingly, and the messenger withdrew. The conference resumed its session.