who had been listening with a solemn face,
brought his little bare foot down on the mule trunk with such a stamp
that the golden anklets jingled and jangled, and his little forefinger
went up over his head in the real Eastern attitude of royal command.

"Salute, slave, salute," he said with a tremendous dignity. And there
was something so comical about the little mite of a child, something so
masterful in the tiny figure, something so commanding in the loud,
deep-toned baby voice, that every one laughed, and somehow or other Adam
forgot his obstinacy and made his obeisance like a good boy.

And then once more pretty Queen Humeeda hugged and kissed her little
son, and all the rest applauded him, and made so much of him that he
began to think he had done something very fine indeed, and crowed and
clapped his hands in delight.

But the merriment did not last long, for there was a clatter of horses
and swords outside the tent.

"My husband!" cried Queen Humeeda in a flutter. "What news does my lord
bring?"

CHAPTER II

THE FIRST VICTORY

The next moment a tall, handsome man entered the tent; but one look at
his pale, anxious face was enough to tell those inside that the news was
bad. So for an instant there was silence; and in the silence, with a
deafening roar and a blinding blaze of blue light, came a terrific crash
of thunder followed by a sudden fierce pelt of hail upon the taut tent
roof.

It sent a shiver through the listeners. They felt that the storm had
broken indeed upon their heads, that danger was close beside them.

Then the King stepped to his wife's side and took her hand, and as he
spoke there was a sob in his breath as of an animal who after a long
chase finds himself at last driven to bay.

"Come!" he said briefly, "there may yet be a chance for us. My horse,
weary though it be, will suffice for thy light weight. In the mountains
lies possible safety. Come! There is not a moment to lose."

"But--but the child--" faltered the Queen.

King Humayon's voice failed him. He could not speak for a moment; but he
shook his head.

"I will not leave the child--" began the wretched mother. "My lord! thou
canst not have the heart----"

"It is his only chance--" interrupted the poor King, his face full of
grief and anger, of bitter, bitter regret--"His only chance of life! In
the mountains yonder, with winter snow upon us, lies certain death for
one so young. Were we to stay with him here, he w