discovered when unconscious from sunstroke by the royal fugitives.

And out of this arose the only sadness of the happy May days when the
little party once more journeyed out to Babar's tomb towards evening to
sit under the _arghawan_ trees and watch the sunset.

Of course Dearest-Lady was not there, but all the others were assembled,
and Down, the cat, purred as loud as ever, while Tumbu, the dog,
frolicked round even more like a golliwog than before. But it was not
the absence of the Khanzada Khanum which made faces thoughtful at times.
She, they knew, was at rest, and they laid flowers for her beside those
they gathered in memory of Firdoos Gita Makani--on whom be peace!

No! it was the knowledge that Roy could not remain with them. So soon as
he was strong again he must go back to his mother, go back to a people
who, tired of rebellion, were longing for their old rulers.

"You see, brother, I am a King," said Roy sorrowfully, "and Kings cannot
always do what they like."

"Do you think they ever do, _really_?" asked the little Heir-to-Empire
gravely, "for I don't."

And here we come to the end--for a time at least--of Prince Akbar's
adventures.

Now, if you want to know how much of this so-called veracious story is
really true, I cannot quite say.

Did some one like Roy _really_ tell the master fireworker that the
Heir-to-Empire was hung over the battlements of the bastion? If some one
did not, how did the master-fireworker find it out? And he did; indeed,
in the history books he takes great credit to himself for _having_ found
it out. But then he was a boaster.

Then did Dearest-Lady really bind Kumran by an oath not to harm the
Heir-to-Empire until she returned?

If she did not, then why did she, an old, frail woman of seventy, go out
into the wilderness just as winter was coming on, and why did not cruel
Kumran kill the Heir-to-Empire when he had him in his power?

These are all questions; but what is certain is that Baby Akbar did go
through all these adventures before he was five years old.

So good-bye, brave little lads! Good-bye, stout old Foster-father and
kindly Foster-mother! Good-bye, worthy Head-nurse with your strings of
titles, and good-bye, dainty little Bija! Good-bye also to grinning
Meroo, to purring Down, and frolicking Tumbu!

And for those other three whose memory remained--Old Faithful, Dearest
Lady, and the Great Emperor, Firdoos Gita Makani, who all helped the
little prince to