— at least in the philosophy of history. The brilliant

"Maskull can change face as often as he likes, but he won't get rid of me so easily. Be easy on that point, Maskull."

"It doesn't matter," muttered Maskull. "Let everyone join in the procession. In a few hours I shall finally be free, anyhow, if what they say is true."

"I'll lead the way," said Gangnet. "You don't know this country, of course, Maskull. When we get to the flat lands some miles farther down, we shall be able to travel by water, but at present we must walk, I fear."

"Yes, you fear - you fear!" broke out Krag, in a highpitched, scraping voice. "You eternal loller!"

Maskull kept looking from one to the other in amazement. There seemed to be a determined hostility between the two, which indicated an intimate previous acquaintance.

They set off through a wood, keeping close to its border, so that for a mile or more they were within sight of the long, narrow lake that flowed beside it. The trees were low and thin; their dolm-coloured leaves were all folded. There was no underbrush - they walked on clean, brown earth, A distant waterfall sounded. They were in shade, but the air was pleasantly warm. There were no insects to irritate them. The bright lake outside looked cool and poetic.

Gangnet pressed Maskull's arm affectionately. "If the bringing of you from your world had fallen to me, Maskull, it is here I would have brought you, and not to the scarlet desert. Then you would have escaped the dark spots, and Tormance would have appeared beautiful to you."

"And what then, Gangnet? The dark spots would have existed all the same."