m it passed on to the natives, all of whom
disliked the upstart. Hanged if I can recall his real name. He was
ugly and handsome at the same time; suave, patient, courteous; yet
somehow or other I sensed the real man below--the Tartar blood. I took
a dislike to him, first off. It's the animal sense. You've got it,
Kit. Behind the king sat the Council of Three--three wise old ducks I
wouldn't trust with an old umbrella."

Winnie laughed.

"While we were salaaming and genuflecting and using grandiloquent
phrases the bally leopard got loose, somehow. Maybe some one let him
loose; I don't know. Anyhow, he made for the king, who was too
thunderstruck to dodge. The rest of 'em took to their heels, you may
lay odds on that. Now, I had an honest liking for the king. Seeing
the brute make for him, I dashed forward. You see, at ceremonials
you're not permitted to carry arms. It had to be with my hands. The
leopard knocked the old boy flat and began to maul him. I kicked the
brute in the face, swept the king's turban off his head and flung it
about the head of the leopard. Somehow or other I got him down. Some
of the frightened natives came up, and with the help of Ahmed we got
the brute tied up securely. When the king came around he silently
shook hands with me and smiled peculiarly at Umballa, who now came
running up."

"And that's how you got those poor hands!" exclaimed Kathlyn, kissing
the scars which stood out white against the tan.

"That's how," raising the hands and putting them on Kathlyn's head in a
kind of benediction.

"Is that all?" asked Winnie breathlessly.

"Isn't that enough?" he retorted. "Well, what is it, Martha? Dinner?
Well, if I haven't cheated you girls out of your tea!"

"Tea!" sniffed Winnie disdainfully. "Do you know, dad, you're awfully
mean to Kit and me. If you'd take the trouble you could be more
interesting than any book I ever read."

"He doesn't believe his stories would interest vain young ladies," said
Kathlyn gravely.

Her father eyed her sharply. Of what was she thinking? In those calm
unwavering eyes of hers he saw a question, and he feared in his soul
she might voice it. He could evade the questions of the volatile
Winnie, but there was no getting by Kathlyn with evasions. Frowning,
he replaced the order in the box, which he put away in a drawer. It
was all arrant nonsense, anyhow; nothing could possibly happen; if
there did, he would feel certain that