 What is a likely reason that the narrator chooses to go with what the citizens of Dondromogon believe about him?
He was Yandro, the Stranger of the Prophecy—and he found that he was destined to fight both sides. Words formed themselves on my thick tongue, words that must have been spoken by so many reviving unfortunates through the ages: "Where am I?" And at once there was an answer: " You lie upon the world Dondromogon. "You do not know that. It is as well, for this will be a birth and beginning of your destined leadership on Dondromogon." The voice was telling me that I had been snatched from worlds away, for a specified purpose here on whatever windswept planet Dondromogon might be. "It is a world the size of your native one," came words of information. One face of Dondromogon ever looks to the light and heat, wherefore its metals run in glowing seas. But because Dondromogon wavers on its axis, there are two lunes of its surface which from time to time shift from night to day. From pole to pole on opposite sides ran the two twilight zones, widest at the equators like the outer rind of two slices of melon. Of course, such areas, between the hot and cold hemispheres, would be buffeted by mighty gales ... the voice was to be heard again: "War is fought between the two strips of habitable ground. War, unceasing, bitter, with no quarter asked, given or expected. Dondromogon was found and settled long ago, by adventurers from afar. "Suffice it that you were needed, and that the time was ripe. There is a proper time, like a proper place, for each thing and each happening. On this strange world called Dondromogon, what manner of intelligent life bade defiance to heat and cold and storm, and built these stout structures, and now laid hands—were they hands indeed?—upon me? My first glance showed me that my companions were creatures like myself—two-legged, fair-skinned men, shorter and slighter than I, but clad in metal-faced garments and wearing weapons in their girdles. Especially as I don't know who I am, or where I'm from, or anything that has happened longer ago than just a moment. "There's a bigger reward for capture than for warning," objected his friend in turn, "and whoever comes to take this man will claim 'capture.' "I'll make no resistance, if you'll only conduct me to your commander. No enemy?" asked the broad-faced one who had first spoken.
 He does not remember anything, is confused, and cannot back himself up on who he truly is.
 He thinks that going with what the citizens of Dondromogon believe will be his key to escape.  The people of Dondromogon are harmless, so he perceives no danger in remaining on the planet.  He does not remember anything, is confused, and cannot back himself up on who he truly is.  He figures that he will eventually be returned to Earth just as mysteriously as he left.