"It's—it's fine, thank you," he called up, trying to subdue his voice as much as possible.
Bobby looked a trifle uncertain. His glance wavered and a queer little wrinkle appeared between his eyes. He lowered his voice when he next spoke.
"Say, would you mind shouting that a little louder," he called down, leaning well over the rail.
Truxton flushed. He was pretty sure that the Prince was not deaf. There was no way out of it, however, so he repeated his communication.
"It's all right, your Highness."
Bobby gave a quick glance over his shoulder at one of the broad windows. Truxton distinctly saw the blinds close with a convulsive jerk.
"Thanks! Much obliged! Good-bye!" sang out the Prince, gleefully. He waved his hand and then hopped off the chair on which he was standing. Truxton heard his little heels clatter across the stone balcony. For a moment he was nonplused.
"Well, I'm—By Jove! I understand!" He rode off toward the barracks, his head swimming with joy, his heart jumping like mad. At the edge of the parade ground he turned in his saddle and audaciously lifted his hat to the girl who, to his certain knowledge, was standing behind the tell-tale blind.
"Cheer up, Hobbs!" he sang out in his new-found exuberance as he rode up to the dismal Englishman, who moped in the shade of the stable walls. "Don't be down-hearted. Look at me! Never say die, that's my motto."
"That's all very well, sir," said Hobbs, removing the unlighted pipe from his lips, "but you 'aven't got a dog and a parrot locked up in your rooms with no one to feed them. It makes me sick, 'pon my soul, sir, to think of them dying of thirst and all that, and me here safe and sound, so to speak."