“No, you may not,” Myles replied.
Then he had an idea.
“Give me two sticks,” he said.
So the sentinel cut two branches and affixed them to the front of the kerkool in the form of an X. Crossed sticks—these were the Porovian equivalent of a flag of truce! Then the young bar-pootah let them through.
“You improve,” Prince Yuri remarked, as they threaded the ravine and emerged onto the plain beyond.
It was a gruesome scene. Dead bodies of both Cupians and Formians lay strewn about, covered with swarms of little hopping brinks, while among the corpses ambled large orange-colored beetles about three feet in length. Some of these beetles were busily engaged in digging holes, while here and there others of them in large numbers were pulling a body toward a hole which they had dug. These were the burying beetles of Poros.
Cabot carefully steered the kerkool in and out among all these obstructions. His last chance to turn his captor over to the authorities had come and gone. Soon Yuri would be able to take the seat beside him and ride in triumph among his friends.
And then the car began to wobble a bit.
“Hold her steady!” ordered the prince peremptorily. “No fooling! No pretended gyroscope trouble!”