stonishment held them as they saw who spoke. It was one of the green men in the room, who had settled down by their side. A tall figure with superb muscles and frank, clean countenance, his dark eyes afire with eagerness.
"English?" Norman exclaimed. "You know English—you understand me?"
The other showed his teeth in a smile. "I know, yes. I'm Sarja, and I learned to speak it from Fallas, in my city, before the Ralas caught me."
"Fallas—" Norman repeated, puzzled; then suddenly he flamed. "By God, he means Fellows!"
"Fallas, yes," said the other. "From the sky he fell into our city in a strange flying-boat that was smashed. He was hurt but we cared for him, and he taught me his speech, which I heard you talking now."
"Then Fellows is in your city now?" asked Hackett eagerly. "Where is that?"
"Across this sea—back in the hills," the other waved. "It is far from the sea but I was rash one day and came too near the water in my flying-boat. The Ralas were out raiding and they saw me, caught me, and brought me here. No escape now, until I die."
"The Ralas—you mean these frog-men?" Norman asked.