nt you properly."

"The King," said Captain Travis, with some awe; "is there a king?"

"I never saw a king," Gordon remarked, "and I'm sure I never expected to
see one sitting on a log in the rain."

"He's a very good king," said Stedman, confidentially; "and though you
mightn't think it to look at him, he's a terrible stickler for etiquette
and form. After supper he'll give you an audience; and if you have any
tobacco, you had better give him some as a present, and you'd better say
it's from the President: he doesn't like to take presents from common
people, he's so proud. The only reason he borrows mine is because he
thinks I'm the President's son."

"What makes him think that?" demanded the consul, with some shortness.
Young Mr. Stedman looked nervously at the consul and at Albert, and
said that he guessed some one must have told him.

The consul's office was divided into four rooms with an open court in
the middle, filled with palms, and watered somewhat unnecessarily by a
fountain.

"I made that," said Stedman, in a modest off-hand way. "I made it out of
hollow bamboo reeds connected with a spring. And now I'm making one for
the King. He saw this and had a lot of bamboo sticks put up all over the
town, without any underground connections, and couldn't make out why the
water wouldn't spurt out of them. And because mine spurts, he thinks I'm
a magician."

"I suppose," grumbled the consul, "some one told him that too."

"I suppose so," said Mr. Stedman, uneasily.

There was a veranda around the consul's office, and inside the walls
were hung with skins, and pictures from illustrated papers, and there
was a good deal of bamboo furniture, and four broad, cool-looking beds.
The place was as clean as a kitchen. "I made the furniture," said
Stedman, "and the Bradleys keep the place in order."

"Who are the Bradleys?" asked Albert.

"The Bradleys are those two men you saw with me," said Stedman; "they
deserted from a British man-of-war that stopped here for coal, and they
act as my servants. One is Bradley, Sr., and the other, Bradley, Jr."

"Then vessels do stop here occasionally?" the consul said, with a
pleased smile.

"Well, not often," said Stedman. "Not so very often; about once a year.
The _Nelson_ thought this was Octavia, and put off again as soon as she
found out her mistake, but the Bradleys took to the bush, and the boat's
crew couldn't find them. When they saw your flag, they thought you might
m