Doriza and the officer crossed to his side, snatching the book. Their bright heads bent above it. Doriza was first to speak. "It is very like," she half-stammered. The officer faced me, with a sort of baffled respect. "I still say you will understand my caution," he addressed me, with real respect and shyness this time. "If you are Yandro himself, you can prove it. The prophecy even sketches a thumb-print--" And he held the book toward me. It contained a full-page likeness, in color, of myself wrapped in a scarlet robe. Under this was considerable printed description, and to one side a thumb-print, or a drawing of one, in black. "Behold," Doriza was saying, "matters which even expert identification men take into thought. The ears in the picture are like the ears of the real man--" "That could be plastic surgery," rejoined the officer. "Such things are artfully done by the Newcomers, and the red mantle he wears more easily assumed." Doriza shook her head. "That happens to be my cloak. I gave it to him because he was naked, and not for any treasonable masquerade. But the thumb-print--" "Oh, yes, the thumb-print," I repeated wearily. "By all means, study my thumbs, if you'll first take these bonds off of me." "Bonds," mumbled old Sporr. He got creakily up from his knees and bustled to me. From under his robe he produced a pouch, and took out a pencil-sized rod. Gingerly opening the red mantle, he touched my tether in several places with the glowing end of the rod. The coils dropped away from my grateful body and limbs. I thrust out my hands. "Thumb-prints?" I offered. Sporr had produced something else, a little vial of dark pigment. He carefully anointed one of my thumbs, and pressed it to the page. All three gazed. "The same," said Doriza. And they were all on their knees before me. "Forgive me, great Yandro," said the officer thickly. "I did not know." "Get up," I bade them. "I want to hear why I was first bound, and now worshipped." II They rose, but stood off respectfully. The officer spoke first. "I am Rohbar, field commander of this defense position," he said with crisp respect. "Sporr is a mystic doctor, full of godly wisdom. Doriza, a junior officer and chief of the guard. And you--how could you know?--are sent by the First Comers to save us from our enemies." "Enemies?" I repeated. "The Newcomers," supplemented Doriza. "They have taken the "Other Side" of Dondromogon, and would take our side as well. We defend ourselves at the poles. Now," and her voice rang joyously, "you will lead us to defeat and crush them utterly!" "Not naked like this," I said, and laughed. I must have sounded foolish, but it had its effect. "Follow me, deign to follow me," Sporr said. "Your clothing, your quarters, your destiny, all await you."