There were men among them who took no stock in such tales as ours anyhow--hard and fast Scotch pragmatists, who doubted the sanity of any man who spoke seriously of anything that they themselves had not heard, seen, smelt, felt and tasted.

Also there was one man who had been jealous of Athelstan King all his years in the service, and he jumped at the chance of obstructing him at last.
After we had told our story at least twenty times, more and more men being brought in to listen to it, who only served to increase incredulity and water down belief, King saw fit to fling his even temper to the winds and try what anger could accomplish.

By that time there were eighteen of us, sitting around a mahogany table at midnight, and King brought his fist down with a crash that split the table and offended the dignity of than one man.
"Confound the lot of you!" he thundered.

"I've been in the service twenty-one years and I've repeatedly brought back scores of wilder tales than this.

But this is the first time that I've been disbelieved.