“Ey! is it not fine?” cried the little old man.  “Tomorrow it will take its place in The Gate of Enemies.”  He dried it off with cloths and packed it away carefully in a basket.  “Perhaps you would like to see some of my life work,” he suggested, and without waiting for their assent led them to another apartment, a large chamber in which were forty or fifty people.  All were sitting or standing quietly about the walls, with the exception of one huge warrior who bestrode a great thoat in the very center of the room, and all were motionless.  Instantly there sprang to the minds of Tara and Turan the rows of silent people upon the balconies that lined the avenues of the city, and the noble array of mounted warriors in The Hall of Chiefs, and the same explanation came to both but neither dared voice the question that was in his mind, for fear of revealing by his ignorance the fact that they were strangers in Manator and therefore impostors in the guise of pupils.

“It is very wonderful,” said Turan.  “It must require great skill and patience and time.”

“That it does,” replied the old man, “though having done it so long I am quicker than most; but mine are the most natural.  Why, I would defy the wife of that warrior to say that insofar as appearances are concerned he does not live,” and he pointed at the man upon the thoat.  “Many of them, of course, are brought here wasted or badly wounded and these I have to repair.  That is where great skill is required, for everyone wants his dead to look as they did at their best in life; but you shall learn—­to mount them and paint them and repair them and sometimes to make an ugly one look beautiful.  And it will be a great comfort to be able to mount your own.  Why, for fifteen hundred years no one has mounted my own dead but myself.

“I have many, my balconies are crowded with them; but I keep a great room for my wives.  I have them all, as far back as the first one, and many is the evening I spend with them—­quiet evenings and very pleasant.  And then the pleasure of preparing them and making them even more beautiful than in life partially recompenses one for their loss.  I take my time with them, looking for a new one while I am working on the old.  When I am not sure about a new one I bring her to the chamber where my wives are, and compare her charms with theirs, and there is always a great satisfaction at such times in knowing that they will not object.  I love harmony.”

“Did you prepare all the warriors in The Hall of Chiefs?” asked Turan.

“Yes, I prepare them and repair them,” replied the old man.  “O-Tar will trust no other.  Even now I have two in another room who were damaged in some way and brought down to me.  O-Tar does not like to have them gone long, since it leaves two riderless thoats in the Hall; but I shall have them ready presently.  He wants them all there in the event any momentous question arises upon which the living jeds cannot agree, or do not