The dragon king explained as follows: “When a Whoomang dies, his body is brought to the temple and is watched day and night by a priest, net in hand, to catch the soul when it emerges.” What it had to do with _souls_ Cabot couldn’t see for the life of him. Neither could Quivven nor Doggo. Having made a complete tour of inspection the party then returned to the palace, where they discussed the glories of Vairkingi and Cupia with the king and Queekle Mukki, and then dined on cereal cakes and a flesh resembling fish. “Be not afraid to eat this,” Boomalayla urged. “It is fresh flesh. We breed these water reptiles especially for food.” After the meal the three travelers were assigned rooms in the palace. At Cabot’s request, tapestries were brought from the plane, and the party severally retired for the night. The next morning they were up early, and assembled in Cabot’s room. The night had proved uneventful, but Doggo wrote in great excitement that he had talked with the green guards, who had refused to disclose the whereabouts of the plane, and had said that this was the king’s order. Immediately after breakfast, which consisted of cakes and sweetened water, they requested an audience with the king—and, when it was granted, demanded news of the plane. But Boomalayla waved them off with an evasive answer. “Tarry but a day or so,” he wrote, “and then your wings shall be returned to you, and you shall be permitted to depart. I promise it, on the word of honor of a king.” So there was nothing but to wait, for it would not do to antagonize this powerful beast, and thus perhaps lose forever the chance to return which he had promised them. The day was spent in a personally-conducted tour of the city, with Boomalayla as a most courteous and attentive guide and host. The Whoomangs appeared to be a highly cultivated race, if you can call them a “race”—a “congeries” would perhaps be the most accurate term. Objects of all the arts abounded, and the tour would have been most pleasurable if the three travelers had not been so anxious to be on their way once more to Cupia. The night was spent as before, uneventfully, but the next day Doggo was missing. In reply to all inquiries, the Whoomangs returned evasive answers. “He is gone on business of his own,” was all they would say. This day Queekle Mukki, the serpent, was their host and guide. He used every effort to outdo Boomalayla in courtesy, but his two guests were strangely uneasy. Some impending calamity seemed to hang over them. Late that evening, when they were in their quarters, Doggo rushed in bristling with excitement. He had something to tell them, and wanted to tell it quickly, but had mislaid his pad and stylus. Strange to relate, Cabot could not find his own writing materials either. Quivven finally found her stylus but no pad.