The way you're talking."
"Hoots, mon!" said the charioteer. "His Majesty King Merolchazzar--may
his handicap decrease!--hae passit a law that a' his soobjects shall do
it. Aiblins, 'tis the language spoken by The Pro, on whom be peace!
Mphm!"
Ascobaruch sat back limply, his head swimming. The chariot drove on,
till now it took the road adjoining the royal Linx. A wall lined a
portion of this road, and suddenly, from behind this wall, there rent
the air a great shout of laughter.
"Pull up!" cried Ascobaruch to the charioteer.
He had recognized that laugh. It was the laugh of Merolchazzar.
Ascobaruch crept to the wall and cautiously poked his head over it. The
sight he saw drove the blood from his face and left him white and
haggard.
The King and the Grand Vizier were playing a foursome against the Pro
and the High Priest of Hec, and the Vizier had just laid the High
Priest a dead stymie.
Ascobaruch tottered to the chariot.
"Take me back," he muttered, pallidly. "I've forgotten something!"
* * * * *
And so golf came to Oom, and with it prosperity unequalled in the whole
history of the land.
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