The little group paused half fearfully in the hall, yet so far there was surely nothing to be afraid of.  They were wondering what to do next when the curtains of an archway were pushed aside and a boy entered.  To Trot’s astonishment, he had legs and walked upon them naturally and with perfect ease.  He was a delicate, frail-looking little fellow, dressed in a black velvet suit with knee breeches.  The bows at his throat and knees were of colored seaweeds, woven into broad ribbons.  His hair was yellow and banged across his forehead.  His eyes were large and dark, with a pleasant, merry sparkle in them.  Around his neck he wore a high ruff, but in spite of this Trot could see that below his plump cheeks were several scarlet-edged slits that looked like the gills of fishes, for they gently opened and closed as the boy breathed in the water by which he was surrounded.  These gills did not greatly mar the lad’s delicate beauty, and he spread out his arms and bowed low and gracefully in greeting.

“Hello,” said Trot.

“Why, I’d like to,” replied the boy with a laugh, “but being a mere slave, it isn’t proper for me to hello.  But it’s good to see earth people again, and I’m glad you’re here.”

“We’re not glad,” observed the girl.  “We’re afraid.”

“You’ll get over that,” declared the boy smilingly.  “People lose a lot of time being afraid.  Once I was myself afraid, but I found it was no fun, so I gave it up.”

“Why were we brought here?” inquired Queen Aquareine gently.

“I can’t say, madam, being a mere slave,” replied the boy.  “But you have reminded me of my errand.  I am sent to inform you all that Zog the Forsaken, who hates all the world and is hated by all the world, commands your presence in his den.”

“Do you hate Zog, too?” asked Trot.

“Oh no,” answered the boy.  “People lose a lot of time in hating others, and there’s no fun in it at all.  Zog may be hateful, but I’m not going to waste time hating him.  You may do so, if you like.”

“You are a queer child,” remarked the Mermaid Queen, looking at him attentively.  “Will you tell us who you are?”

“Once I was Prince Sacho of Sacharhineolaland, which is a sweet country, but hard to pronounce,” he answered.  “But in this domain I have but one title and one name, and that is ‘Slave.’”

“How came you to be Zog’s slave?” asked Clia.

“The funniest adventure you ever heard of,” asserted the boy with eager pride.  “I sailed in a ship that went to pieces in a storm.  All on board were drowned but me, and I came mighty near it, to tell the truth.  I went down deep, deep into the sea, and at the bottom was Zog, watching the people drown.  I tumbled on his head, and he grabbed and saved me, saying I would make a useful slave.  By his magic power he made me able to live under water as the fishes live, and he brought me to this castle and taught me to wait upon him as his other slaves do.”