Myles Cabot glanced around the little group and saw that they all were grinning broadly. They had heard the story before. Cabot turned back to Toron again and urged, “Go on. You have just said that, as you dashed through the row of ghostly figures, some one lassoed you around the neck. What happened then?” “What happened then?” replied the prince tantalizingly. “The next thing that I knew the red light of morning was flooding the eastern sky. I was lying naked on the ground in a garden, while just above me stretched a clothesline with a row of Cupian togas fluttering in the breeze. These were the ghostly row of sentinels of the night before, and the rope which had cut off my wind so summarily had not been a lasso at all, but merely the clothesline itself.” Myles looked very uncomfortable and sheepish as a general laugh went up at his expense. Then he declared: “Toron, you are a first class story-teller, and you certainly had me fooled. Did it really happen?” “Honestly,” the boy replied. And Poblath added: “It couldn’t have been better if he had made it up.” Then Toron went on with the narrative of his adventures: “The clothesline was Builder-sent in my then naked condition. Hastily grabbing one of the togas from off the rope, I donned it and hurried out of the garden, just as the morning life began to stir in the little village. Before folks had fully awakened for the day’s round of pleasures and work, I had gained the fields and the woods beyond, and there I slept throughout the day. “Just before nightfall, I found some red clay with which to dye my telltale yellow hair, and then set out once more to grope my weary way northward through the jet black night. Thus I kept on for several days of sleep and nights of travel, until one night a kerkool rounded a turn too quickly for me and deluged me with its light before I had time to scuttle into the woods. Scuttle I did, however, and soon several flash lamps appeared among the trees in pursuit. “The lights of my enemies showed me their whereabouts and thus enabled me to dodge them. But on the other hand, I could not see to find my way, whereas they could; with the result that finally they surrounded me. There were four of them, four Formians. I was unarmed. ‘Foolhardiness is not courage,’ as Poblath would say. So I surrendered. Luckily they did not recognize me.” “Why should they,” Cabot remarked, “without your yellow curls and your royal robes?”