cook boy, who knew what a
delicacy it was; but Head-nurse shrieked, "Take it away quick--the
Heir-to-Empire will prick himself with the quills and they are
poisonous. Take it away at once, I say."

But alas! The Heir-to-Empire was wilful, like all Eastern Princelings,
and he shrieked to match at the suggestion. So there arose such a
hubbub, which was only calmed by Baby Akbar being allowed to do as he
chose.

"Poor! Poor!" he said as his little hand touched the sharp prickles and
no one found out, till Foster-mother came to put him to bed, that he
really _did_ scratch himself. There was quite a little runnel of blood
on the palm; but Akbar, even when he was a baby, was proud. He knew how
to bear discomfort and punishment when it was his own fault.

They were all rather merry that night, for they had roast porcupine
stuffed with pistachio nuts for supper. And afterward Roy sat by Baby
Akbar's pile of quilts and sang him to sleep with this royal lullaby:

"Baby, Baby-ling,
You are always King;
Always wear a crown,
Though you tumble down;
Call each thing your own,
Find each lap a throne;
Dearest, sweetest King,
Baby! Baby-ling!"

When the child had fallen asleep Roy sat at the door of the tent and
looked at the stars, which shone, as they do in the East, all colours,
like jewels in the velvety sky. They seemed so far away, but not farther
than he seemed to be from himself. For Roy's head had been dreadfully
confused by that sunstroke in the desert. Only that morning something
had seemed to come back to him in a flash, and he had so far forgotten
he was only a page boy as to call the little Heir-to-Empire "Brother,"
but Head-nurse's cuff had brought him back to reality in double quick
time. And as he sat there in the dark he saw a man creeping stealthily
to the tent. He was on his feet in a moment challenging him.

"Hush!" whispered the newcomer, "I bring a message from King Humayon. I
must see Foster-father at once."

The good man was already between the quilts, but he got up quickly, and
when he had heard the message he sent for Head-nurse and Foster-mother
and Old Faithful, for he felt that a most momentous decision had to be
made. Yet the message was a very simple one. Those in charge of the
child were to creep away that very night with the messenger, who would
guide them in safety to King Humayon, who had found help and shelter in
Persia.

Head-nurse and Foster-mother wept