Myles was very sorry that it all had happened. In the first place, he had lost his temper, which was to his discredit. In the second place, he had made a hero of himself in the eyes of the lady whose love he was most anxious to avoid. And in the third place, he had fought the man who was best calculated to protect him from that undesired love. Altogether, he had made a mess of things, and all he could do about it was meekly submit to the ministrations of the furry princess. What a life! Finally Arkilu departed, leaving Cabot alone with recriminations for his rashness, longings for his own Princess Lilla, and worries for her safety. The next day the expedition took up its delayed start homeward, Jud having found a route which required no alibis. The tents were struck, and were piled with the other impedimenta on two-wheeled carts, which the common soldiers pulled with long ropes. In spite of Arkilu’s pleadings, Myles was assigned to one of these gangs, Theoph grimly remarking: “If the hairless one is well enough to vanquish Jud, he is well enough to do his share of the work.” Jud explained to Arkilu that the real reason why he had suggested this was that he sincerely believed that the exercise would be good for Cabot’s health. During one of the halts, when Jud happened to be near Cabot’s gang, the earth-man strode over to the commander, who instinctively cringed at his approach. “I’m not fighting to-day,” Myles assured the Vairking with an engaging smile, “but may I have a word with you?” So the two withdrew a short distance out of earshot of the rest, and Myles continued: “I do not love Arkilu the Beautiful. You do. Let us understand one another, and help one another. You assist me _to_ keep away from the princess, and I shall assist you _by_ keeping away from the princess. Later I shall make further suggestions as to how we can cooperate to mutual advantage. I have spoken.” Jud stared at him with perplexed admiration. “Who are you?” he asked, “who stands unabashed in the presence of kings and nobles, who addresses a superior without permission, and yet without offensive familiarity?” “I am Cabot the Minorian,” the other replied, “ruler over Cupia, a nation larger and more powerful than yours. A race of fearsome beasts have landed on the western shores of your continent. They are enemies of mine, and will become enemies of yours as they extend their civilization and run counter to yours.” “Impossible!” Jud exclaimed. “For how could these mythical creatures cross the boiling seas to land on our shores?” “By magic,” answered Myles, “magic which they stole from me. And they held me prisoner until I overthrew their magic and escaped, to be found by your expedition.” “Then you are a magician?” “Yes.” “Ah, that explains how you defeated me in combat yesterday,” Jud asserted with a relieved sigh.