“The name on the collar is Fido,” said Ulfin.
The next day Ulfin brought their tickets-of-leaves, made of the leaves of the tree of Liberty which grows at the bottom of the well where Truth lies.
“Don’t lose them,” he said, “and come with me.” They found it quite possible to move along slowly on hands and tails, though they looked rather like seals as they did so.
He led them through the strange streets of massive passages, pointing out the buildings, giving them their names as you might do if you were showing the marvels of your own city to a stranger.
“That’s the Astrologers’ Tower,” he said, pointing to a huge building high above the others. “The wise men sit there and observe the stars.”
“But you can’t see the stars down here.”
“Oh, yes, we can. The tower is fitted up with tubes and mirrors and water transparence apparatus. The wisest men in the country are there—all but the Professor of Conchology. He’s the wisest of all. He invented the nets that caught you—or rather, making nets was one of the things that he had learned and couldn’t forget.”
“But who thought of using them for catching prisoners?”
“I did,” said Ulfin proudly, “I’m to have a glass medal for it.”
“Do you have glass down here?”