At the best there must be war." At this moment our conference was interrupted by the cry that messengers had come from the king.

Advancing to the door of the hut we ordered that they should be admitted, and presently three men entered, each bearing a shining shirt of chain armour, and a magnificent battle-axe.
"The gifts of my lord the king to the white men from the Stars!" said a herald who came with them.
"We thank the king," I answered; "withdraw." The men went, and we examined the armour with great interest.

It was the most wonderful chain work that either of us had ever seen.

A whole coat fell together so closely that it formed a mass of links scarcely too big to be covered with both hands.
"Do you make these things in this country, Infadoos ?" I asked; "they are very beautiful." "Nay, my lord, they came down to us from our forefathers.

We know not who made them, and there are but few left.[1] None but those of royal blood may be clad in them.