“And is there always some one to offer this challenge?” broke in Chick.
“There has been none in the last generation,” replied Lord Slava. “Even before that the Scarab has never been vanquished. Were some one to step out and beat it, then these executions would have to stop.”
“It looks to me as if it would be a swell thing to put a bug in the ear of this other bug—or whatever the Scarab is,” observed Patsy. “It is some kind of a bug, isn’t it?”
“A beetle,” answered Slava.
Jai Singh had been busy with his usual occupation when there was nothing else to be done—namely, polishing his spear. He looked up now, with an eager light in his eyes.
“I should like to have a look at that beetle,” he remarked. “It sounds like a good fight. I should have my spear and this Golden Scarab could come at me with all his claws. That would be a little in his favor. Still, I believe I should be the victor.”
Lord Slava smiled and shook his head.
“You are a brave man, stranger. But you know not what you ask. The Scarab is no ordinary foe. The very touch of one of its claws is instant and awful death.”
“My spear is swift, and so am I,” returned Jai Singh simply.
He went on with his polishing, as if there was nothing more to be argued, but he listened to all that might be said.