But Yuri was obdurate. “I am sorry not to be able to do as you wish, but I can think of no better way to impress upon my deluded people the fact that this Minorian is after all merely a lower animal than to let them see him in his present filthy condition.” “Grant me this one favor,” again urged Lilla, “and I will try to be a docile slave.” “You had better be,” Yuri sneered, “favor or no favor. Else will I throw you to the Royal Husbands of Queen Formis when I have done with you. I have spoken.” Lilla winced. Cabot noted it, and stiffened. “Sic ’em,” said he, under his breath. There came a flash of purple and the clink of a taut chain, then a thud, as the largest woofus dropped to the ground with its neck nearly broken. Yuri and Lilla staggered backward affrighted. “I am content,” Myles said to himself. And that night he drilled his pet as never before. The next day was uneventful. Yuri did not appear, but along toward evening, Formian guards came with poles, and led the five purple beasts away to cells under the stadium. The earthman was similarly confined. It was filthy, and hot, and circus-smelling in his cell, and accordingly he spent a bad night; but when morning came, he felt unusually well, buoyed up by the excitement of the occasion. Shortly after breakfast, he heard the crowd tramping over his head, as they began to fill the stadium. He knew that his army undoubtedly had word of the “games” by means of the black-light signal-telescopes of Toron, and he knew that they would make every effort to reach the city in time to rescue him. But he was not counting on their aid. He hoped, in fact, to have the tables effectually turned on Yuri, long before their arrival. Thus he mused, until finally he was led out onto the sands. The seats were nearly filled. All the standing-space was crowded with black Formians. The royal box was occupied by Lilla, Yuri and Queen Formis, surrounded by a bodyguard of ants. Cabot walked over the edge of the arena nearest the box and waved to Lilla. At this a sporadic cheer arose, which the king suppressed with an angry gesture. But there remained a tenseness in the air as though there were many others present who would like to cheer, but dared not. Yuri was plainly annoyed, for it was evident that his victim, wretched and bearded though he was, had quite a following in the audience. Cabot waved again to Lilla. “Be of good cheer, my princess,” he called up to her. “My enemies have had me nearer to death than this before. But ‘they cannot kill a Minorian.’” His supreme confidence reassured Lilla somewhat, and for a moment even Yuri’s brow darkened with uncertainty. But then the king smiled quizzically, as one who knows a very amusing secret. At last the stands were full. Yuri arose, and spoke into the self-same broadcaster which the present victim, before his downfall, had rigged up for the use of the venerable King Kew.