“I will try to explain, then,” said Ghek, “if you will promise to sing to me later.”

“I promise,” she said.

“We are not like the rykors,” he began.  “They are creatures of a low order, like yourself and the banths and such things.  We have no sex—­not one of us except our king, who is bi-sexual.  He produces many eggs from which we, the workers and the warriors, are hatched; and one in every thousand eggs is another king egg, from which a king is hatched.  Did you notice the sealed openings in the room where you saw Luud?  Sealed in each of those is another king.  If one of them escaped he would fall upon Luud and try to kill him and if he succeeded we should have a new king; but there would be no difference.  His name would be Luud and all would go on as before, for are we not all alike?  Luud has lived a long time and has produced many kings, so he lets only a few live that there may be a successor to him when he dies.  The others he kills.”

“Why does he keep more than one?” queried the girl.

“Sometimes accidents occur,” replied Ghek, “and all the kings that a swarm has saved are killed.  When this happens the swarm comes and obtains another king from a neighboring swarm.”

“Are all of you the children of Luud?” she asked.

“All but a few, who are from the eggs of the preceding king, as was Luud; but Luud has lived a long time and not many of the others are left.”

“You live a long time, or short?” Tara asked.

“A very long time.”

“And the rykors, too; they live a long time?”

“No; the rykors live for ten years, perhaps,” he said, “if they remain strong and useful.  When they can no longer be of service to us, either through age or sickness, we leave them in the fields and the banths come at night and get them.”

“How horrible!” she exclaimed.

“Horrible?” he repeated.  “I see nothing horrible about that.  The rykors are but brainless flesh.  They neither see, nor feel, nor hear.  They can scarce move but for us.  If we did not bring them food they would starve to death.  They are less deserving of thought than our leather.  All that they can do for themselves is to take food from a trough and put it in their mouths, but with us—­look at them!” and he proudly exhibited the noble figure that he surmounted, palpitant with life and energy and feeling.

“How do you do it?” asked Tara of Helium.  “I do not understand it at all.”

“I will show you,” he said, and lay down upon the floor.  Then he detached himself from the body, which lay as a thing dead.  On his spider legs he walked toward the girl.  “Now look,” he admonished her.  “Do you see this thing?” and he extended what appeared to be a bundle of tentacles from the posterior part of his head.  “There is an aperture just back of the rykor’s mouth and directly over the upper end of his spinal column.  Into this aperture I insert my tentacles and seize