She jostled the reins and the dahara began to trot faster. I imitated her and we were soon galloping along the wide streets through which the delicate green mist wound, and up towards the golden hills—the Calling Hills.

We were soon out of the city and rushing through the strange trees which seemed to be calling for us as we moved among them.

After a while Shizala slowed her steed and I did likewise. She turned to me with a smile.

"I acted wilfully—I hope you will forgive me."

"I could forgive you anything," I said, almost without thinking.

She gave me a quizzical, intelligent look which again I could not interpret.

"Perhaps," she said. "I should mention ..."

Again I spoke on impulse. "Let us not talk—we are interrupting the voices of the trees. Let us just ride and listen."

She smiled. "Very well."

As we rode I suddenly began to wonder how I was going to live on Mars. I had accepted that I would like to stay in the idyllic city of Varnal— I would never willingly leave a place which sheltered such a graceful beauty as the girl riding beside me at that moment—but how was I going to earn my living?

As a scientist I could probably contribute something to the industries. It struck me that Shizala might be interested if I suggested that she elect me as some sort of Court Scientific Adviser! This would allow me to serve a useful function in the community and at the same time enable me to be close to her and see a great deal of her.

At that time, of course, I was acting almost intuitively. I had not as yet wondered if the customs of the Karnala would even permit me to propose marriage to Shizala—and, anyway, there was a very good chance that Shizala would want nothing to do with me. Why should she? Although she had not questioned what I had told her about where I had come from and how I had arrived on her planet, for all she knew I might be a lunatic.

My mind was confused as I rode along. At length we decided we had best return to the city and the palace, and I directed my strange steed back with some reluctance.

The visiting Prince of Mishim Tep, Telem Fas Ogdai, was waiting on the steps of the palace when we arrived. He had one foot on a higher step and his hand rested on the hilt of his long, broadbladed sword. He wore soft boots and a heavy cloak of dark material. He looked both angry and impatient, and twice as I dismounted and walked up the steps towards him, removed his hand from his sword-hilt to finger the plain gold bangle on bis wrist.

He ignored me but flashed a glance at Shizala and then turned his back on both of us, rumbling up the steps into the palace.