ctor, if you go back to that
palace tonight, for goodbys or anything else, you will stay there.
Now--this moment--is the time for you to go."

The truth of the old parrot's words seemed to be striking home; for the
Doctor stood silent a minute, thinking.

"But there are the note-books," he said presently: "I would have to go
back to fetch them."

"I have them here, Doctor," said I, speaking up--"all of them."

Again he pondered.

"And Long Arrow's collection," he said. "I would have to take that also
with me."

"It is here, Oh Kindly One," came the Indian's deep voice from the
shadow beneath the palm.

"But what about provisions," asked the Doctor--"food for the journey?"

"We have a week's supply with us, for our holiday," said
Polynesia--"that's more than we will need."

For a third time the Doctor was silent and thoughtful.

"And then there's my hat," he said fretfully at last. "That settles it:
I'll HAVE to go back to the palace. I can't leave without my hat. How
could I appear in Puddleby with this crown on my head?"

"Here it is, Doctor," said Bumpo producing the hat, old, battered
and beloved, from under his coat. Polynesia had indeed thought of
everything.

Yet even now we could see the Doctor was still trying to think up
further excuses.

"Oh Kindly One," said Long Arrow, "why tempt ill fortune? Your way is
clear. Your future and your work beckon you back to your foreign home
beyond the sea. With you will go also what lore I too have gathered for
mankind--to lands where it will be of wider use than it can ever here.
I see the glimmerings of dawn in the eastern heaven. Day is at hand. Go
before your subjects are abroad. Go before your project is discovered.
For truly I believe that if you go not now you will linger the remainder
of your days a captive king in Popsipetel."

Great decisions often take no more than a moment in the making. Against
the now paling sky I saw the Doctor's figure suddenly stiffen. Slowly he
lifted the Sacred Crown from off his head and laid it on the sands.

And when he spoke his voice was choked with tears.

"They will find it here," he murmured, "when they come to search for
me. And they will know that I have gone.... My children, my poor
children!--I wonder will they ever understand why it was I left them....
I wonder will they ever understand--and forgive."

He took his old hat from Bumpo; then facing Long Arrow, gripped his
outstretched hand in silence.

"You