ne," he
added aside to the old trooper, "should not wonder at much; for the
lad's manners are ever above his present station."

Old Faithful shook his head wisely. "'Tis not the boy's manners,
friend," he said, "but his breed. A man may compass manners for himself,
but not that his father should have had them also."

By this time the black smear was on Baby Akbar's forehead, and despite
the smudge, he looked a very fine little fellow indeed. So much so that
quite a murmur of delighted admiration ran round the assemblage when
Askurry appeared, leading him by the hand; for he had quickly learned to
run about and was now quite steady on his legs.

"A chip of the old block," said an ancient mountain chief, who had known
his grandfather Babar, and many others nodded assent. Then Prince
Askurry began a set speech, little Akbar seated on his knee the while.

It was a very clever, crafty speech, that could be taken two ways, and
Prince Askurry was so much interested in it, and making sure that he was
neither too disloyal or too loyal to his unfortunate brother, the King,
that he did not notice what was passing on his knee until a sudden lack
of attention on the part of his audience made him follow their eyes, and
look down at the child upon his lap.

And then?

Then he sat dumbfounded, his face flushing to a dull, dark red, for he
saw in a moment what the thing that had happened would mean to those
others--the audience before him--the men he had summoned to listen to
his half-hearted words.

Yet it was a very simple little thing. Baby Akbar, tired, doubtless, of
his uncle's speechifying, had found amusement in a slender gold chain
which hung round his uncle's neck; had traced it to a secret pocket in
his inner waistcoat, and so had drawn out from its hiding place a golden
signet ring, set with an engraved emerald. A toy indeed! So after
playing with it for a bit the child had slipped it onto his little
forefinger, which he held up the better to admire his new-found
treasure. So it came to pass that as Askurry's smooth, oily voice went
on and on, those who listened could see a little image sitting on his
knee.

A dignified, gracious-looking image with forefinger held up in the
attitude of kingly command; and on that forefinger--what?

The Signet of the King!

The Ring of Empire!

It was unmistakable! Askurry must have found it in his fugitive
brother's tent. He must have concealed it. Uncertain what part he meant