"And what good would that do us? Could we fight? No. They'd smother us in a minute. Say, wasn't there a king in that cave the other day?"
"Yes; on a golden throne. An ugly little devil—the ugliest of all."
"Sure; that why he's got the job. Did he say anything?"
"Not a word; merely stuck out his arm and out we went."
"Why the deuce don't they talk?"
I explained my theory at some length, with many and various scientific digressions. Harry listened politely.
"I don't know what you mean," said he when I had finished, "but I believe you. Anyway, it's all a stupendous joke. In the first place, we shouldn't be here at all. And, secondly, why should they want us to stay?"
"How should I know? Ask the king. And don't bother me; I'm going to sleep."
"You are not. I want to talk. Now, they must want us for something. They can't intend to eat us, because there isn't enough to go around. And there is Desiree. What the deuce was she doing up there without any clothes on? I say, Paul, we've got to find her."
"With pleasure. But, first, how are we going to get out of this?"