e be!" she shrilled in her high voice. "No more jiggettings and
joggettings on camel back. I shall be on my own feet once more, and it
shall not be my fault if His just dues are not given to the
Great-in-Pomp----" etc., etc.

Foster-mother interrupted the string of titles. "So that they harm not
the child," she said, clasping her charge tight. She was always thinking
of his safety, always alarmed for danger; but he, young Turk that he
was, struggled from her arms and pointed to the hills they were leaving
behind them.

"Dadda, Amma 'way 'way mountains," he repeated once more; then added
cheerfully, "Akka 'way, too."

"It is a prophecy!" said Old Faithful, overhearing the remark. "Sure
his grand-dad Baber--on whom be peace--had the gift, and this babe may
have inherited it."

"May have," echoed Head-nurse indignantly. "He has inherited it, and has
much of his own besides. Mark my words! if this child live--which Heaven
grant--he will be the King of Kings! Not two summers old and he talks as
one of three."

"Aye!" assented Foster-mother, "but he does not walk yet."

Head-nurse sniffed. "Thou are a foolish soul, woman! Sure either the
feet or the tongue must come first, and for my part I prefer the tongue.
Any babe can walk!"

And Foster-mother was silent; it was true one could not have everything.

Their last camp was pitched just outside the city of Kandahar, so that
Prince Askurry could make a regular triumphal entry the next morning and
let everybody see with their own eyes that he had come back victorious,
holding Baby Akbar as prisoner and hostage.

But this did not suit Head-nurse at all. She had no notion that her
Heir-to-Empire should be stared at as a captive; so, though she started
from camp humbly as ever on the baggage camel, no sooner had they passed
through the arched gate of the city with Prince Askurry well ahead of
them in the narrow streets, than out she whipped the Royal Umbrella
which she had patched up with an old scarlet silk petticoat, and there
was Baby Akbar under its shadow; and, having--young as he was--been
taught to salute to a crowd, he began waving his little fat hand with
much dignity, until the people who had come out to gape whispered among
themselves and said:

"He looks every inch a king's son."

"And that is what he is," said a bold voice in the crowd; but though
folk turned to see who spoke, there was no sign of the speaker. For
loyal men had to hide their loyalty in tho