was dangerous, as the Kapars planted many spies in these camps. Finally, however, I came to the conclusion that this Tunzo Bor was all right, and so I asked him if he knew a man named Handon Gar.
Immediately he was all suspicion. 'No,' he said, 'I don't know anyone by that name. Why do you ask?'
'I have a message for him,' I replied.
'From whom?' he asked.
'From a friend in Orvis.'
'Well, I don't know any Handon Gar,' he insisted, 'and if he is here you may rest assured he is not known by that name.'
'I suppose not,' I said, 'but I certainly wish that I could find him, as I should like to deliver my message.'
I was sure that he was lying and that he did know Handon Gar and that it was quite possible that the man might be in this very camp, but I saw that it was useless to pursue the question further as it would only make Tunzo Bor all the more suspicious of me.
We were worked very hard and were underfed. It seemed to me that the Kapars were very stupid; they need labour, yet they treat the men in labour camps so badly that the mortality rate is much higher than necessary. I noticed that the Kapars are always pressed for food, but they are extremely short-sighted to beat men to death for nothing or overwork them so they drop in their tracks, when these same men might be producing more food for them.
The lot of the free workers is a little better, but not much; they are serfs, but they are not locked up in prison camps. However, they are overworked and treated cruelly, although many of them are native Kapars as well as peoples of conquered countries. The soldiers fare much better than the workers, and the members of the Zabo live well, for everyone is afraid of them; even the army officers and those highly placed politically live little better, though they live off the fat of the land, if there is any fat in Kapara.
After a week of hard labour and poor food, I was given an easy job, working in the garden of the officer in charge of the camp. An armed guard always accompanied me and remained with me while I worked. He did not abuse me, nor did any of the guards in the prison compound. I was even given good food occasionally from the officer's kitchen. I could not understand it, but I was afraid to ask any questions, but finally the guard himself volunteered some information.
'Who are you, anyway?' he demanded.
'I am No. 267M9436,' I replied.
'No,' he said; 'I mean what is your name?'
'I thought we weren't supposed to use any names,' I reminded him.
'If I tell you to, you can,' he said.
'Well, my name is Korvan Don,' I replied.
'Where are you from?'
'Orvis.'
He shook his head. 'I can't understand it,' he said.
'Understand what?' I asked.
'Why orders have been given that you shall be treated so much better than the other prisoners,' he explained; 'and they come straight from Gurrul, too.'
'I'm sure I don't know,' I replied, but I had an idea that it might be because Gurrul was still investigating me and might be coming to the conclusion that I could be of value to the Kapars. I knew perfectly well that I wasn't being treated this way because of any humanitarian reasons.
Chapter Four
WHEN THE SKY IS NOT OVERCAST, the Polodan nights are gorgeous in the extreme. There is a constant procession of planets passing across the heavens, following each other in stately procession throughout the night; and thus clear nights are quite well lighted, especially by the nearer planets.
It was on such a clear night, about three weeks after I had been brought to the prison camp, that a fellow prisoner came close to me and whispered, 'I am Handon Gar.'
I scrutinized him very closely to see if I could recognize him from the description given me by the Commissioner for War.
This man was terribly emaciated and looked like an old man, but gradually I recognized him. He must have been subjected to the cruellest of treatment during the two years that he had been here.
'Yes,' I said presently, 'I recognize you.'
'How can you recognize me?' he demanded, instantly suspicious; 'I do not know you, and you never knew me. Who are you, and what do you want?'
'I recognized you from the description given me by the Commissioner for War,' I explained. 'I know that you are Handon Gar, and that I can trust you. My name is Tangor; I am know here as Korvan Don. I was sent here on a mission by the Eljanhai and the Commissioner for War,' I continued in a low whisper, 'and was instructed to ascertain what your fate had been.'
He smiled sourly. 'And now you are in the same boat as I; I'm afraid they'll never learn what became of either of us.'
'Is Tunzo Bor all right?' I asked.
'Yes, but he suspected you. However, I did too, but I couldn't see how I could be any worse off if I told you my name. I do not recall ever having heard yours. Where did you live in Unis, and what did you do?'
'I lived in Orvis and was a pilot in the fighting service.'
'It is strange that I never met you,' he said, and I could see that he was becoming suspicious again.
'It is not so strange,' I said; 'I am sure that I know only a very few of the thousands of pilots in the service; one could not know them all. Do you know Harkas Don?'
'Yes, indeed, very well,' he replied
'He is my best friend,' I said.
He was silent for some time, and then he said, 'How are Don's brothers?'
'He hasn't any,' I replied; 'they have all been killed in the war.'
'And his sisters?' he asked.
'He only has one sister,' I replied; 'Yamoda. I saw her the night before I left. She had had an accident, but she is all right now.'
'Well,' he said, 'if you know these people so intimately, you must be all right. You know we have to be careful here.'
'Yes, I understand,' I replied.
Again he was silent for a few moments, and then he leaned closer to me and whispered, 'We are going to make a break in a few days; Tunzo Bor and I and a couple of others. We have it all planned. Do you want to come along?'
'I can't,' I replied; 'I haven't fulfilled my mission yet.'
'You can't fulfil it while you're in a work camp,' he said, 'and you'll never get out. You might just as well make a break with us. If we get back to Orvis, I'll explain to the Eljanhai that I advised you to escape while there was a chance.'
'No, thanks,' I replied, 'I shall get out of here.'
'You seem very sure,' he said, and I noticed that he looked at me peculiarly, and I had a feeling that he already regretted telling me what he had. I was about to try to reassure him, when a guard ordered us to stop talking.
A couple of days later, which was a rest day, a guard called to me to come over to the wire fence, and there I found Morga Sagra awaiting me. It was quite unusual for prisoners to be allowed to have visitors, and I could see that it aroused a great deal of interest and comment in the compound.
'I have been working hard for your release,' she told me in a whisper, 'but Gurrul is still unconvinced. If you have heard of anything suspicious here-anything the Zabo would like to know of you will report it, it will prove that
