all night long.

Yet he was always cheerful. Always ready with stories and songs. When he
could not remember any new-old ones, he took to inventing tales of
people who were always in dangers and difficulties, but who took no
notice of them, who went on their way trusting in the Truth.

"For! see you!" he would finish gravely,

"He who has Truth
Need fear no ruth."

So, ever and always his hero came out of his trials scathless.

And, by degrees, this faith in final good grew deep into both the boys'
hearts, and showed in their very faces.

"By my word!" said the Afghan sentry, whom chance one day sent to guard
them. "Ye be a precious pair of Kings!"

He could admire them, though he did not seem in the least ashamed of
having yet once more turned his coat; for he was again on Kumran's side.

How time passed none of the prisoners cared to count. But one day the
sudden roar of a great gun told them that the city was once more
besieged. In truth, Humayon hearing, while still on his bed of sickness,
the fatal news of Shurruf Khan's treachery, had strained every nerve,
ill as he was, to come to the rescue of his little son. It was
midwinter, the passes were blocked with snow, he and his troops had to
meet endless hardships; but at last they were before Kabul once more.
Camped on the Arkaban hill, opposite the Iron Gate, the artillery were
brought into position, the first shot fired.

It would take too long to follow all the varied incidents of the siege.
But one thing was constant. Night after night recruits from inside the
town managed to scale the walls and join King Humayon's forces. They
were getting tired of Kumran, who, unable to satisfy his cruelty on the
little Heir-to-Empire, vented it on all and sundry. And day by day as
the number of the besieged dwindled, bit after bit of the town fell into
the besiegers' hands, until at last only the Bala Hissar remained. But
the Bala Hissar is a town in itself, and many a time has it withstood a
siege successfully.

Now, however, it was near to the death. There could be no more talk or
thought of escape. Kumran, ever half-hearted, tried it one night and
failed, losing many followers in the attempt.

After that his face hardened. He went about dreaming of revenge--revenge
on Humayon, even revenge on Dearest-Lady, who had tied his hands.

"_Till I return!_"

No! Dead folks can never return to the worldly. Even their memory comes
seldom, save to the pure in h