ew, he said; very few
people remembered, as he did, the old ways, the old Kings. But for the
sake of Babar the brave they might always count on his sword and the
sabres of fifty or more of his followers. So, if the worst came to the
worst, they were welcome to an asylum in his eagle's eyrie of a
fortress, where at any rate they could all die together fighting for the
King; and what more did any brave man want?

This was not much consolation to Foster-father, who felt that there was
nothing to be done, save by every means in his power, to curry favour
with the Princess Sultanum.

But, indeed, the little Heir-to-Empire made himself friends wherever he
went; they could not help liking the frank little fellow who spoke to
them so freely, with a certain grave dignity of his own. For by the
time the peach gardens around Kandahar lay like clouds of pink and white
about the old domed city, little Prince Akbar was in looks and ways a
child of three or even four; so big and strong was he. He spoke
perfectly in his childish way, with great emphasis and a curious, soft
burr over his r's and h's. And he actually tried to wrestle with his
cousin Ibrahim, who was, however, rather a puny boy, despite the fact
that he was three years older than the little Heir-to-Empire.

But with Roy as playmate Akbar began all sorts of games. There was a
high, walled peach garden not far from the bastion, where the little
Prince used to be allowed to go; and there, during the long sunny hours,
the Rajput lad, to whom such things were all curiously familiar, taught
the child how to ride on Tumbu's back, and how to hold a spear. Aye! and
to take a tent peg, too; the peg being only a soft carrot stuck in the
earth! But the great game was shooting with a bow and arrow, and in
this, before spring passed to summer, the pupil was a match with his
teacher except in strength; for, from the very beginning, Akbar showed
himself steady and straight as a shot; so it is no wonder he grew up to
be the finest marksman in India. But it would take too long to tell all
the games they played, all the manly sports which the little prince
learned without any difficulty. There was a shallow marble tank in the
middle of the garden, where he took to the water like a duck, and would
lie on his back and kick and shout with laughter as the tank got rough
with waves, till Foster-mother would beg him not to drown, as the water
splashed over him high in the air.

But Foster-fat