“My turn next,” thought Myles, “and then perhaps I shall find out what it is all about.”
As before, the Whoomangs were evasive as to the whereabouts of the golden one, and even Doggo was singularly unresponsive and devoid of ideas on the subject.
This day the she-dragon high-priestess was their guide, but although she outdid both Boomalayla and Queekle Mukki, Cabot fretted, and worried, and merely put on an external show of interest.
Late that afternoon—the fourth—of their stay among the Whoomangs—as soon as the tour was over, Cabot left Doggo and withdrew to his own room.
Where was Quivven all this time, he wondered.
His question was answered by the Golden Flame herself bursting into the room full of excitement.
“Thank the Builder I can talk to you with my mouth, and do not have to wait for pencil and paper,” she exclaimed. “The Whoomangs overlooked our powers of vocal speech when they hid our writing materials as before.”
It was true; their pads and styluses had miraculously disappeared again.
“Where have you been?” Cabot asked, somewhat testily. “I suppose that in a few moments you will say that all your excitement has been a mere practical joke on me, the same as Doggo’s was.”
“Yes,” she replied seriously. “I shall—undoubtedly. And therefore listen while there is yet time—while I am still Quivven.”