on very frosty nights the women folk would
drag their beds and sleep, while during the snowy days they would spread
quilts on the floor, and Baby Akbar would have high jinks with Tumbu and
Down, who were his constant playmates. Then, when he was tired, Roy
would cradle his young master in his arms and sing to him. Not
lullabies, for little Akbar's mind kept pace with his body, and every
month saw him more and more of a boy and less and less of a baby.

"Tell me how Rajah Rasalu did this," or "Tell me how Rajah Rasalu did
that," he would say; and so Roy's boyish voice would go over the old
story of endless adventures, which has delighted so many Indian children
for so many generations.

So time passed quite merrily until one night, when something dreadful
happened. So dreadful that it will really require another chapter to
describe it. But it was one night when Roy had been telling the little
prince how "Rajah Rasalu's friends forsook him for fear." And as this is
rather a nice story, it shall be told here.

"You know, great Kingly child," began Roy, "how Rajah Rasalu was born
and how Rajah Rasalu set out into the world to seek for fortune, taking
with him his dear horse, Baunwa-iraki, his parrot, Kilkila, who had
lived with him since he was born, besides the Carpenter-lad and the
Goldsmith-lad, who had sworn never to leave their young master. So he
journeyed north to a lonely place, all set with sombre trees. And the
night was dark, so he set a watch, and the goldsmith took the first,
while the young prince slept by the Carpenter-lad, on a couch of clean,
sweet leaves. And lest the heart of the prince should sink, they sang a
cheering song:

"'Cradled till now on softest down,
Leaves are thy bed to-night;
Yet grieve not thou at fortune's frown,
Brave men heed not her slight.'

"And while they slept and the goldsmith watched, a snake slid out from
the trees. 'Now, who are you?' quoth the Goldsmith-lad, 'who come to
disturb his rest?' 'Lo! I have killed all living things that have
ventured within ten miles of this my place of rest,' it hissed, 'and now
I will slay you, too!' So they fought and fought, but the Goldsmith-lad
he killed the snake in the end. Then he hid the body under his shield,
lest the others might be afraid, and he roused from his rest the
Carpenter-lad, to take his share of the watch, while he, in his turn, on
the clean, sweet leaves lay down beside the prince. And while they
slep