Polter was coatless, with snowy white shirt and cuffs to his thick
wrists. He was no more than fifty feet from us. On his shirt bosom
something golden in color was hanging like a large bauble, an ornament,
an insignia. It was strapped tightly there with a band about his chest,
a cord, like a necklace chain, up to his thick hunched neck, and other
chains down to his belt.

I stared at it. An ornament, like a cube held flat against his shirt
front--a little golden cube, ornate with tiny bars.

I heard Alan murmuring, "A cage! Why George, it's--"

And then, simultaneously, realization struck me. It was a golden cage
strapped there. And I seemed to see that there was something in it. A
tiny figure? Babs!

"I think he has her there," Glora murmured. "You see the little box with
bars? The girl, Babs, is a prisoner in there." She spoke swiftly,
vehemently. "He will take the boat to the island."

She gripped us. "You think it really best to go? I do what you say. I
had the wish to get to my father with these drugs."

"No!" exclaimed Alan. "We must keep close to Polter!"

We were ready with our pellets. But a sudden activity in the road made
us pause. The crowd of little people were hostile to Polter. A sullen
hostility. They milled about him as he stood there, gazing down at them
sardonically.

And abruptly he shouted at them in English. "You speak my language, some
of you. Then listen!"

The crowd fell silent.

"Listen. This iss your future Queen. Can you see her? She iss small now.
But she has the magic power. Soon she will be large, like me."

The crowd was shouting again. It surged forward, but it lacked a leader,
and those in advance shoved backward in fear.

Polter spoke again. "This girl from my world, you will like her. She iss
kind and very beautiful. When she iss large, you will see how
beautiful."

A small stone suddenly came up from the throng of little people and
struck Polter on the shoulder. Then another. The crowd, emboldened, made
a rush: surged against his legs.

He shouted, "You do that? Why, how dare you? I show you what giants do
when you make dem angry!"

From down by his knees he plucked the small figure of a man. The crowd
scattered with shouts of terror. Polter had the struggling eighteen-inch
figure by the wrist. He whirled it around his head like a ninepin and
flung it over the canopy of the dock far out into the shimmering lake!

CHAPTER VII

The trees around us expand