“But it is the truth,” I insisted.  “From where else then did I come? I am not of Pellucidar.  Anyone with half an eye could see that.” “It is your misfortune then,” he remarked dryly, “that you may not be judged by one with but half an eye.” “What will they do with me,” I asked, “if they do not have a mind to believe me?” “You may be sentenced to the arena, or go to the pits to be used in research work by the learned ones,” he replied. “And what will they do with me there?” I persisted. “No one knows except the Mahars and those who go to the pits with them, but as the latter never return, their knowledge does them but little good.  It is said that the learned ones cut up their subjects while they are yet alive, thus learning many useful things.  However I should not imagine that it would prove very useful to him who was being cut up; but of course this is all but conjecture.  The chances are that ere long you will know much more about it than I,” and he grinned as he spoke.  The Sagoths have a well-developed sense of humor. “And suppose it is the arena,” I continued; “what then?” “You saw the two who met the tarag and the thag the time that you escaped?” he said. “Yes.” “Your end in the arena would be similar to what was intended for them,” he explained, “though of course the same kinds