on his bow, but Dick held him back.

"Don't be foolish!" he said. "Those are drums of welcome."

He spoke a few words to Kulki in the Gorol language, which he was
beginning to learn, and the savage answered grinning:

"They are the drums of Chief Wabiti, my father. We are near his camp
now."

"Here they come!" exclaimed Dan. "Say, this beats a circus parade!"

Ahead of them on the forest trail the boys caught sight of dark figures
moving among the trees and spots of gay color. As they reached a small
clearing, Kulki led the party to a fallen log at one side, where Dick
sat with his followers standing around him.

Then Chief Wabiti and his people entered to greet their new ruler, the
Boy King, with drums beating and voices raised in a shrill song of
welcome.

"Quick, Raal, where is the crown?" Dick asked and his savage henchman
hastily unwrapped the heavy diadem from a covering of zebra skin and
handed it to his master, bowing low as he did so.

Dick placed the crudely fashioned crown of soft gold and uncut gems
upon his head, while Dan inspected him with a grin, remarking, "It sets
a little sideways, Dick. Say, you need me along to keep your royal
crown from slipping over your eye."

"Lay off, Dan! Don't get funny!"

Dick turned to Kulki. "Where's my sword of state?"

Down on his knees went the hairy, dark-skinned Kulki, and presented the
flint knife on both open palms.

"Good! Now Dan, you stand close to me and hold out the field glasses
where they will impress the natives."

Dick with his zebra skin garments, his crown, flint knife and
respectful attendants looked enough like a tribal king to impress
Wabiti, who entered the clearing at that moment, following his
bodyguard and a procession of young girls ornamented with garlands of
flowers. Behind him came his sons, princes of the Gorol tribe, but all
of lesser rank than Kulki.

At the sight of Tahara, the new king, who was now ruler of both the
tribes, Wabiti fell flat on his face and crawled forward to embrace the
young monarch's ankles.

His followers prostrated themselves at the same moment, all but the
drummers, who stood to one side beating furiously upon the instruments
with their flat hands.

"Tahara, hal!"

The words came from the aged Wabiti in a submissive growling voice from
the pit of his stomach. His gray head was almost between Dick
Oakwood's feet.

Kulki echoed the words in a ringing shout.

"Tahara, hal! Tahara!"