The red-and-green-clad men were but two out of a score. All wore kilted costumes, with bare arms and knees; and all were arrayed in bright colors: purple and gold, chrome yellow, crimson, and milky white. And all had crowded around them with wild exclamations, calling out in high-pitched tones that neither of them could at first understand.
At length, from amid the din, two cries made themselves evident, shrilling in a strange accentuation, "Who are you? Who are you? Where do you come from? Where do you come from?"
To this Downey replied, in a voice that sounded cracked and broken even to his own ears. "Who are you? Who are you? Where do you come from?"
His answer was an outburst of laughter which, beginning in a low ripple, gradually rose to an uproarious crescendo.
This demonstration was checked by the arrival of a tall blue-and-orange-clad individual, who stood out from the others owing to a large gemmed silver star that crowned his bald pate.
Raising his left arm authoritatively, the newcomer instantly silenced the crowd; and, stepping toward Downey and the girl, spoke in slow, crisp tones that were quite understandable despite their foreign ring:
"Better tell us, sir, where you come from. I understand you were both found among the ruins."
"Yes, I guess that's right," Downey replied. "That is, the ruins of the bombing raid."
"Bombing raid?" several voices caught him up, sharply. "Bombing raid?" And the men turned to one another with muttered exclamations; while one or two put their hands significantly to their heads.
"I do not know what you mean, sir," said the star-crowned one. "Must I tell you we are a civilized people, and have had no bombing raids for three hundred years?"