pulling all the time.'
The High Priest frowned.
'It is written in the sacred book of Hec, your Majesty, 'Thou shalt not
follow after strange gods'.'
'Take thou this stick, O venerable one,' said the King, paying no
attention to the remark, 'and have a shot thyself. True, thou art well
stricken in years, but many a man has so wrought that he was able to
give his grandchildren a stroke a hole. It is never too late to begin.'
The High Priest shrank back, horrified. The King frowned.
'It is our Royal wish,' he said, coldly.
The High Priest was forced to comply. Had they been alone, it is
possible that he might have risked all on one swift stroke with his
knife, but by this time a group of kaddiz had drifted up, and
were watching the proceedings with that supercilious detachment so
characteristic of them. He took the stick and arranged his limbs as the
King directed.
'Now,' said Merolchazzar, 'slow back and keep your e'e on the ba'!'
* * * * *
A month later, Ascobaruch returned from his trip. He had received no
word from the High Priest announcing the success of the revolution, but
there might be many reasons for that. It was with unruffled contentment
that he bade his charioteer drive him to the palace. He was glad to get
back, for after all a holiday is hardly a holiday if you have left your
business affairs unsettled.
As he drove, the chariot passed a fair open space, on the outskirts of
the city. A sudden chill froze the serenity of Ascobaruch's mood. He
prodded the charioteer sharply in the small of the back.
'What is that?' he demanded, catching his breath.
All over the green expanse could be seen men in strange robes, moving
to and fro in couples and bearing in their hands mystic wands. Some
searched restlessly in the bushes, others were walking briskly in the
direction of small red flags. A sickening foreboding of disaster fell
upon Ascobaruch.
The charioteer seemed surprised at the question.
'Yon's the muneecipal linx,' he replied.
'The what?'
'The muneecipal linx.'
'Tell me, fellow, why do you talk that way?'
'Whitway?'
'Why, like that. The way you're talking.'
'Hoots, mon!' said the charioteer. 'His Majesty King Merolchazzar--may
his handicap decrease!--hae passit a law that a' his soobjects shall do
it. Aiblins, 'tis the language spoken by The Pro, on whom be peace!
Mphm!'
Ascobaruch sat back limply, his head swimming. The chariot drove on,
till now it took the road adjoining the royal Linx. A wall lined a
portion of this road, and suddenly, from behind this wall, there rent
the air a great shout of laughter.
'Pull up!' cried Ascobaruch to the charioteer.
