"Suffer your mind to drift back to your own planet, sir," said he. "It is your opinion that our government owes every poor man a suit of clothes?"
J. Archibald Meigs cringed under the blow. It was a thrust at his clothing trust, and it found the weak point in his armor.
"Circumstances are different here," he mumbled.
"In some ways, yes; in other ways, no. King Gaddbai is the monopolist of this planet. He controls the kaka output and charges for it accordingly."
The captain of the royal guard was growing impatient.
"If you are here on an errand from the king of Baigol," said he, "we shall be glad to escort you to the capital—but not until you have surrendered the giant who stole the king's property."
"Take us to his majesty," returned the professor, "and we will explain everything in a satisfactory manner."
But this the captain would not do, and he became so threatening that we retreated behind a barrier of bowlders.
"Display the banner, Mr. Munn," said the professor, and I held up the royal standard so that the captain could not help but see it. His one eye gleamed insolently, and he came as near swearing as the seventh key of his word-box would allow.
"Deliver up the thief," he ordered, "or I will command my men to annihilate you with their zetbais."