"I could not with the guard looking on," said Phra.
"I could," said Harry. "English fellows can do anything. Here goes."
He threw the ball down heavily, making it rebound, and then as it repeated its rebounds he rushed at it, and, although he had never done such a thing before, gave it a flying kick which sent it high in the air, but only to come down and bounce into the fountain basin in the middle of the courtyard.
"Wonderful!" the spectators seemed to say, as they looked solemnly at one another.
"Oh, I didn't mean that," cried Harry, rushing after the ball, followed by his companion, who walked sedately up just as Harry had shouted to one of the guard to come.
"Here," he said in Siamese, "fish out that ball."
The man smiled, reached out over the basin, and in another moment would have transfixed the football on his keenly-pointed lance.
But Harry was too quick for him, and gave the lance shaft a thrust.
"Not like that," he cried; "you'd kill it—let all its wind out. This way."
He showed the man how to guide the ball to the side with his spear, and then picked it up all dripping, to place it in the sun to dry.