e events in their chronological
order.

"The king was a kindly old chap, simple, yet shrewd, and with that
slumbrous oriental way of accomplishing his ends, despite all
obstacles. Underneath this apparent simplicity I discovered a grim
sardonic humor. Trust the Oriental for always having that packed away
under his bewildering diplomacy. He was all alone in the world. He
was one of those rare eastern potentates who wasn't hampered by
parasitical relatives. By George, the old boy could have given his
kingdom, lock, stock and barrel, to the British government, and no one
could say him nay. There was a good deal of rumor the last time I was
there that when he died England would step in actually. The old boy
gave me leave to come and go as I pleased, to hunt where and how I
would. I had a mighty fine collection. There are tigers and leopards
and bears and fat old pythons, forty feet long. Of course, it isn't
the tiger country that Central India is, but the brutes you find are
bigger. I have about sixty beasts there now, and that's mainly why I'm
going back. Want to clean it up and ship 'em to Hamburg, where I've a
large standing order. I'm going first to Ceylon, for some elephants."

The colonel knocked the ash from his pipe. "The old boy used to do
some trapping himself, and whenever he'd catch a fine specimen he'd
turn it over to me. He had a hunting lodge not far from my quarters.
One day Ahmed came to me with a message saying that the king commanded
my presence at the lodge, where his slaves had trapped a fine leopard.
Yes, my dears, slaves. There is even a slave mart at the capital this
day. A barbaric fairy-land, with its good genii and its bad djinns."

"_The Arabian Nights_," murmured Winnie, snuggling close to Kathlyn.

"The Oriental loves pomp," went on the colonel. "He can't give you a
chupatty----"

"What's that?" asked Winnie.

"Something like hardtack. Well, he can't give you that without
ceremonial. When I arrived at the lodge with Ahmed the old boy--he had
the complexion of a prima donna--the old boy sat on his portable
throne, glittering with orders. Standing beside him was a chap we
called Umballa. He had been a street rat. A bit of impudence had
caught the king's fancy, and he brought up the boy, clothed, fed him,
and sent him away down to Umballa to school. When the boy returned he
talked Umballa morning, noon and night, till the soldiers began to call
him that, and from the