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Updated: May 8, 2025
"One is from the queen, my lord; the other from Bar Senestro. The blue is the cloth of the Bars; the red, that of the queens. The Bar and the queen send this bodyguard with their respective compliments." Chick took the bundle that Geos had brought, and proceeded to don his own clothes, finding deep satisfaction in the fact that they had arrived as intact as he.
Immediately a peculiar patter sounded down the corridor; a ka- tuck, ka-tuck, ka-tuck, not unlike galloping hoof-beats. Before Watson could do any surmising a little bundle of shining black, rounded the entrance to the room and ran up to them. Geos picked it up. It was a horse. A horse, beautifully formed, perfect as an Arab, and not more than nine inches high!
"If possible. I want to see your world." "I think it can be arranged. Is your lordship ready to go?" "Presently." Watson laid a hand on the big globe he had already puzzled over. "This represents the Thomahlia?" "Yes, my lord." "How long is your day, Geos?" "Twenty-four hours," "I mean, how many revolutions in one circuit of the sun, in one year-circle?"
A handsome brown-haired DOG. Watson of course, could not understand. The silence held; he could feel the Rhamda Geos at his side, and hear him murmur something which, in itself, was quite unintelligible: "The four-footed one! The call to humility, sacrifice, and unselfishness! The four-footed one!" That was all.
For a moment Watson felt weak and uncertain. He could hold up against Geos and Avec, but in the face of such an array he wasn't so sure. There was but one thing to encourage him; the faces into which he looked. All were full of wonder and reverence. Then he looked about him more carefully. He had come out upon a wide platform, or rostrum.
In the centre of the great light-circle the nimbus of blue stood out like a vibrating haze, while all about, in the darkness, could be heard the weird sound made by the passage of life. "When will the Jarados act?" inquired the Geos of the Irishman. But he got no reply. MacPherson spoke to Watson: "Get yer gun ready, lad; get yer gun ready! Look 'tis th' ould boy himself, now!
Certainly Watson inwardly rejoiced to see Rhamda Geos incredulous, his keen face whitening like that of one who has just heard sacrilege uttered to see Geos rise in his place, grip the table tightly, and hear him exclaim: "The Jarados! Did you say the Jarados? He has come amongst us, and we have not known? You are perfectly sure of this?"
"But it is still only a machine, Geos." "To be sure, my lord; only a machine. Anything without the life principle must remain so." The Jan Lucar pressed another catch, allowing another plate to lower and thereby disclose a glazed door, which opened into a cosy apartment fitted with wicker chairs, and large enough for four persons.
When he came to the sun he explained that no man dared to look at it continuously with the bare eyes. Its great heat and splendour astounded Geos. Concerning himself he nonchalantly stated that he was the fiance of Holcomb's daughter; that is, son-in-law-to-be of the prophet Jarados; that he was sort of Junior Rhamda.
"Every one, my lord. In all the world there is no finer body of men, I myself would hesitate before entering a match with even the old Rhamda Geos." "How about the Rhamda Avec?" "Nor he, either; in the gymnasium he was always the superior, just as he topped all others morally and mentally."
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