“Oh, hang it all!” Seymour broke off angrily, “I’m sick of the drivel,” and he flung the paper to the floor. “I guess you’d better explain the stuff to Chenobi,” remarked Silas; “he’s looking as if he’d like to be in the know.” Following this suggestion, Seymour translated the article for the benefit of the Ayuti. “So,” the latter cried, his eyes flashing with rage, “the dog not only doubts our friend’s story, but calls me barbarian and savage! Were it not that ye say the law of your land forbids killing, the hound should not live an hour.” “Best of it is,” Garth broke in at this point, “the party that wrote that article--Max Dormer--has a place not five miles from here, and is holding a big meeting there to-day--some scientific society or other, I believe. It would be a bit of a joke if Chenobi was to pop over and pay ’em a visit.” “By Jove! we’ll do it,” cried Seymour, slapping his thigh; “we’ll stir the beggars up.” “The king had better go in his tin suit,” suggested Silas; “it’ll look more like business.” “He shall,” returned the baronet, and spoke a few rapid words to his Ayuti friend. Instantly the latter rose, an even finer figure in his perfect-fitting suit than he had looked in his mail. “’Tis well,” he replied to Seymour; “thou and I, Fairhair, will teach this braggart a lesson. When he sees Muswani, perchance he will doubt no longer that there be strange beasts in the underworld.” With that, he and the baronet left the room. Some time later they rode down the drive upon the back of the elk--Chenobi armed _cap-a-pie_--and swept out into the high road, leaving the dull-witted lodge-keeper gaping after them in blank amazement. Past astonished pedestrians they flashed, Seymour laughing heartily at the temporary panic their strange appearance caused; on at a headlong, exhilarating gallop, until they reached the gates of the place to which Garth had directed them. And here they were checked. The gates were locked, and the attendant, alarmed by the unusual dress of the Ayuti, and also by his strange steed, refused to admit them. “You don’t come in here,” he bawled, “Sir William Seymour or not. You look more like a couple of escaped lunatics than anything else, to my mind.” Chenobi laughed scornfully as the baronet translated this insulting answer. “There are other ways of getting in than by the gates,” he said, and backed his mount to the further side of the road. A sharp word of command and Muswani leapt forward like a meteor. Straight for the eight-foot wall, which joined the gates, Chenobi steered him. Like a bird he rose, cleared the obstruction magnificently, and dropped lightly down upon the other side. Affrighted, the attendant vanished into the lodge, and they swept up the avenue towards the house unmolested.