anything.

Revolution! From down the waterways of streets which converged into the
broad lagoon before the palace, boats began arriving. Boats crowded with
_slaans_. Disheveled, unkempt men and women with primitive weapons of
steel and wire brandished aloft. They surged into the lagoon. A
murderous, frenzied mob--thoughtless of itself, suicidal to attack us,
yet daring everything in its frenzy.

Soon the lagoon was crowded--a chaos of pushing, shoving boats. Then the
boats began landing, disgorging their occupants, wild-eyed _slaans_ each
a potential murderer. The gardens of the palace were presently jammed
with them. They did not at first come within our threshholds; they stood
milling about under the palms, trampling the tropic flowers, screaming
threats and epithets at us. But waiting--as a mob always does--for some
leader to advance, that they might follow him upon us.

We stood on the palace roof-top. I must confess that we were in a flurry
for the moment. There were undoubtedly weapons at hand, but I at least
did not have them, nor did I know where they were. Excusable flurry
possibly for the thing had come so quickly, and most of us were
strangers here of but a few hours.

The roof had a low railing waist-high, but broad. We stood clustered
behind it. In the garden beneath, the mob was shouting up at us. And,
before I could stop her, Maida had leaped to the top of the rail. Georg
and I clutched at her, then steadied her.

_"Slaans--"_

But they would not hear her. Shouts went up; a roar of threats. The
press of additions to the mob landing from other boats, forced the front
ranks forward. They were now on the palace steps, jammed there waving
their weapons yet still hesitating to advance.

"_Slaans_--my people--"

Maida's frail voice was lost in the uproar. Then a missle was thrown
upward--a portion of a broken generator--a heavy chunk of metal. It
barely missed Maida, and fell with a thump to the roof behind us. Then
came others--a rain of them about us. I tried to pull Maida back, but
she fought me, her voice still calling out its appeal.

With a bound, Georg was up on the rail beside her. Aften--the young
Earth man--had quietly handed him a cylinder. Georg waved it at the mob.

"_Slaans_--" His stronger voice caught their attention. A sudden hush
fell.

"_Slaans_--it is I, Georg Brende. Your Princess Maida rules you now only
under me. A new ruler, _slaans_--the man of Earth--Georg Brende who must