'There is no question of forgiveness, Rajah Sahib,' said the grave Indian. 'I could have wished for the sake of the people, who were clamorous for tidings when they heard the rajah had gone, that his Excellency had treated me with more confidence. But is not that amongst the things that have passed? We have escaped from the fiery trial. The people of Gumilcund and his Excellency, their rajah——'

'The people will receive me, then?'

'The loyalty of the people of Gumilcund to Byrajee Pirtha Raj, their ruler, has never wavered.'

'That is well,' said Tom gravely. 'But you must understand, Chunder Singh, and you, Lutfullah; on some points I have changed since last I dwelt amongst you. In the wilderness where, for many days, I have been wandering seeking for my kindred, I have come to this determination chiefly,' he spoke in their own language, which all of them could understand. 'I will not,' he went on, 'go amongst you any more upon false pretences. I am an Englishman. How and to what degree I am related to your former rulers, or whether the mysterious tie which seems to unite us is merely spiritual, I do not know myself. I have written for information, and as soon as I receive it I will pass it on to you. In the meantime, I have determined to go amongst you without disguise. Such as I am, you and your people must receive me, and if the idea of serving a foreign ruler is repugnant to you I will retire and allow you to choose your own ruler, on whose behalf I will promise to interest myself with the British Government. But, however this may be, I know'—he smiled, and Chunder Singh, who had been listening with a falling countenance, plucked up heart—'I know,' he repeated, laying his hand on the closed litter, which had been brought to the spot where he had reined up Snow-queen, 'that for the sake of those who have gone before me—ay, and because they love the English name, which has been a tower of strength to their city, the good and loyal citizens of Gumilcund will receive me with respect and affection and will shelter and nourish the fugitives whom I have brought with me until they can return in peace to their own people.'

He paused, and a buzz of applause, not loud, for these were grave citizens and Asiatics, but deep and heartfelt, followed his words. 'Our rajah has spoken well. Hah! Hah! He has spoken words of wisdom. He has proved himself the true son of Byrajee Pirtha Raj. Let him come amongst us freely. The people are waiting to receive him with honour.' So from mouth to mouth the joyful answers ran.

Up to this everything was quiet, decorous, and stately; Tom playing the part of an Oriental potentate to perfection; the citizens of Gumilcund reverential in manner and dignified in speech and bearing; the two guards—the Ghoorka escort on the one hand, and the gorgeously caparisoned cavalry from Gumilcund on the other—sitting their horses like bronze images on either side of the space of ground where the rajah and the chief men of the city had met. And so it might have continued but for that upsetting element, subversive of all dignity, an English boy.

Kit had been riding in the rear of the cavalcade with Bâl Narîn. He had seen one or two things that interested him—a score or so of flying foxes, hanging like black bags from the trees, which he insisted upon disturbing, so that he might see them fly—a huge cobra, which they followed and killed, and a herd of screaming jackals that he galloped after until Bâl Narîn caught his pony by the rein and made him come back. They were thus considerably in the rear when the cavalcade halted.

Now, as soon as Kit saw that something was going on, he set spurs to his pony, gained upon the Ghoorka guard, passed it like a flash of lightning at imminent risk of setting the whole of it in motion, and drew rein by Tom's side just as the citizens of Gumilcund were assuring him of the continued homage of their city.

For a moment the child paused, looking out at them. It was light enough to see him well—the slender, shapely figure, the proud little head, the shower of golden curls. Every one of the grave men smiled. He answered their kind looks with a ringing laugh. 'Are you the people from Gumilcund?' he cried out, his childish treble ringing shrill and clear through the still air of the evening. 'And have you come to meet us?'

'Hah! Hah!' answered the grave elders. 'Gumilcund people, little Sahib,'