ect her darling.

But Head-nurse was more practical, and set about considering how best
that safety might be secured. Who was there who could help? No one of
much use, truly, though every one was brimful of devotion and ready to
give his or her life for the Heir-to-Empire.

"I will kill the first man who dares--" began Old Faithful.

"Aye! The first! But how about the last, old man?" interrupted
Head-nurse. "Force will be of no avail. Askurry hath half an army with
him."

"Harm shall only come to the child through my body," wept Foster-mother,
whereat Head-nurse laughed scornfully.

"Woman's flesh is a poor shield, fool! God send we find better
protection than thy carcass."

"Boo! hoo!" blubbered Meroo the cook-boy. "Lo! Head-nurse! I could kill
a whole army by poisoning their suppers."

Head-nurse nodded faint approval. "Now, there is some sense in that,
scullion, but what about that they may do supperless? If they should
dare----"

"They will not dare," said a clear, sharp voice, and Roy the Rajput lad
stepped forward, a light in his great eyes. "My mother used to say,
'Fear not! A king's son is a king's son always, so be that he forgets
not kingship.'"

Head-nurse stood puzzled for a second, then she caught the meaning of
the lad's words, for she was a clever, capable woman, and had all a
woman's quickness.

"Thou art right, my lad," she said slowly, looking curiously at Roy,
from whose face the flash of memory seemed to have passed. "Thou art
right. In royalty lies safety. The Heir-to-Empire must receive his
enemies as a King! Quick! slaves! Close the tent door and let us bring
forth all we have, and make all things as regal as we can. There is no
time to lose."

And they did not lose any. The result being that when, quarter of an
hour afterward, Prince Askurry, bitterly disappointed at finding that
his real quarry, the King and Queen, had escaped, strode with some of
his followers into the tent where he was told Baby Akbar was to be
found, he paused at the door, first in astonishment and then in
amusement.

It was really rather a pretty picture which he saw. To begin with the
tent had been lit up with the little rushlight lamps they call in India
_chiraghs_--tiny saucers which can be made of mud in which a cotton wick
floats in a few drops of oil--and a row of these outlined the mule trunk
throne. Then Meroo's misshapen limbs had been hidden under a chain
corselet and helmet, so he made quite a res