nheard-of galleons,
foundered in storms of some sea that was nowhere in the world; or
battered to bits in wars waged with we know not whom. Some said that
it was salt because of the sea and others that it was salt with
mariners' tears. And some of the poets took large flowers out of
vases and threw their petals all about the room, and others talked two
at a time and other sang. "Why they are only children after all," I
said.

"Only children!" repeated the old witch who was pouring out cowslip
wine.

_"Only_ children," said the old black cat. And every one laughed at
me.

"I sincerely apologize," I said. "I did not mean to say it. I did
not intend to insult any one."

"Why he knows nothing at all," said the old black cat. And everybody
laughed till the poets were put to bed.

And then I took one look at the fields we know, and turned to the
other window that looks on the elfin mountains. And the evening
looked like a sapphire. And I saw my way though the fields were
growing dim, and when I found it I went downstairs and through the
witch's parlour, and out of doors and came that night to the palace of
Singanee.

Lights glittered through every crystal slab--and all were
uncurtained--in the palace of ivory. The sounds were those of a
triumphant dance. Very haunting indeed was the booming of a bassoon,
and like the dangerous advance of some galloping beast were the blows
wielded by a powerful man on the huge, sonourous drum. It seemed to
me as I listened that the contest of Singanee with the more than
elephantine destroyer of Perdondaris had already been set to music.
And as I walked in the dark along the amethyst precipice I suddenly
saw across it a curved white bridge. It was one ivory tusk. And I
knew it for the triumph of Singanee. I knew at once that this curved
mass of ivory that had been dragged by ropes to bridge the abyss was
the twin of the ivory gate that once Perdondaris had, and had itself
been the destruction of that once famous city--towers and walls and
people. Already men had begun to hollow it and to carve human figures
life-size along its sides. I walked across it; and half way across,
at the bottom of the curve, I met a few of the carvers fast asleep. On
the opposite cliff by the palace lay the thickest end of the tusk and
I came down a ladder which leaned against the tusk for they had not
yet carved steps.

Outside the ivory palace it was as I had supposed and the sentry at
th