The inference was obvious. Michel Drawers realized that he was in a mighty uncomfortable position. For once his brain found a suitable solution. He faced the Raciv. "I accept your Racivship with thanks." The Raciv handed Michel Drawers an elongated prism of crystal, through which played curious designs of ever-changing color. "Please accept this as a sign of your position," Garanjor asked. Drawers received the colorful prism, then quickly stated, "As Raciv, I do not feel capable of performing the duties required of me in this new capacity. For that reason I hereby return the great honor entrusted to me to its original possessor." Quickly he handed the prism back to Garanjor. There was a murmur of thought. Apparently the golden people were deeply moved by this noble gesture. Michel Drawers gave them no time to reconsider. He emptied his pockets of all the iron and steel objects he carried. There was the meter, a steel measuring rule, and several handy implements he happened to have with him. While divesting himself of these objects he took opportunity to examine the golden people more carefully. The men were attired only in what seemed to be a glorified pair of trunks--although a few of them wore a crepe-like cloak. Their entire bodies were of a deep golden hue as was their hair. The pronounced aura about each of them, he decided, must be due to the peculiar, unknown gas in the atmosphere. In some way it must affect the radiations thrown off by the body and make them visible to the naked eye. The women were beautiful, that's all there was to it. They had all the same characteristics of the men. Their dress was a satiny, tight-fitting garment that reminded one, more than anything else, of a bathing suit done over for evening wear. Their hair was arranged in such a manner as to give the impression of additional height. Both men and women were approximately the same height--about five feet--but built entirely in proportion. Further observations were interrupted. The people about him suddenly assumed masks of great concern. One little man left the party. Through one of the windows he could be seen dashing off in the direction of the great wall. Drawers stood puzzled. Persum turned to him. "Some of our people have just sent a message of distress. They have been accosted by several Griffs and are in serious danger. We don't know what we can do, though," he ended hopelessly. "Where is all this taking place?" Drawers inquired with an unsuccessful attempt to appear calm. Persum gestured for him to follow. Back to the gate they swiftly retraced their steps. The gates were slightly ajar. A hundred yards over to the right Drawers could see two of the golden people--one a woman, perched precariously in the branches of a gigantic fern.