Nowhere, so far, had he seen even one person who might have passed as a peace officer. The golden people seemed to need no enforcement to maintain the effective carrying out of whatever laws they were governed by. Each and every one of them seemed to take it for granted that he must do what was required as a duty to himself as well as to the community and that's all there was to it. Persum had stopped in front of a grand edifice of such beauty and brilliance that it faded into insignificance the surrounding buildings, fine as they were. He followed Persum into the building. Through upward sloping halls that wound around and around up into the vitals of the building and served in lieu of stairways, and into a glistening hall of gold and crystal. The hall was partially filled with others of the golden people. Drawers watched in bewilderment as Persum approached the group of little people--apparently officials of the city--and without opening his lips informed them of all that had transpired. And now others of Persum's strange race came forward to greet him. Drawers marveled at the perfection of these golden people. At the unsurpassed, delicate beauty and construction of their forms; the charm and adorableness of their women. Here indeed was a tiny race of perfection, soul-satisfying to the extreme. One of the welcoming party bowed low before him. "We are pleased to have this opportunity to show you our hospitality," the man said. "My name is Garanjor, humble Raciv of my people." Drawers gulped impulsively. The highest official of the land was out to greet him. Him, a nobody from Earth who had landed here by accident, in search of Roxite. Perhaps this was some form of a joke? He scrutinized the faces about him. All were serious to the extreme. An air of serenity seemed to pervade. Drawers drew from his brain all he remembered of the proper etiquette for such occasions. Six years in a space-ship--it was easy to forget. "I am honored," was all he could think of. Nervously he juggled a small meter, for the determining of the purity of Roxite, in his hands. One of the golden people took note of the instrument, and turned to the others with an unmistakable air of excitement. In an instant the entire assembly was crowded about him examining the meter with feverish interest. One asked: "This metal--have you any more of it?" "Why that's nothing very much," Drawers replied. "That's only common iron. The ground is filthy with this back on Earth. Why do you ask?" Persum mentally replied to the question. "Here, in this city, Ronir, which is what you call Iron is the rarest of all metals. We use it only in the construction of vital instruments and tools. All other uses, because of its extreme scarcity, are forbidden."