"Thanks, sir, no," said the doctor abruptly; "my mind's at rest now, and I want to work. Where are the wounded being placed?"
"In my son's rooms, Doctor. Thank you. You are right; but make some one bring you coffee and whatever you require."
"Oh, yes, sir, I'll take care," cried the doctor, and he hurried in, while the King turned to Mr. Kenyon.
"Ah, now I can speak with you, my friend," he said. "No, no, my boys, you need not go," he added, as Phra and Harry were drawing back. "It is sad work for you, but it is forced upon me. Now, Kenyon, you are fresh, and I want your advice; you know how difficult a place this is to defend. What do you say? Ought we not to retire into this part of the palace now and defend ourselves from there? I have had every window boarded up; we have plenty of ammunition, and the place is well provisioned. There is water too. What do you think?"
"I am not a soldier, sir," said Mr. Kenyon gravely.
"No, but you are my friend, and it is a relief to hear your voice.
Speak."
"I may say things that you, sir, would not like."
"They will be the words of the man I have known and trusted these many years," said the King—"the man I trust to be a second father to my boy here if I fall."
"Then for his sake, sir, I should say—I do not know that I am right, but I speak as I think at the moment—would it not be better to seize the opportunity of retreating now that the enemy have been checked for the present?"
"No, Kenyon," said the King firmly; "I have thought of that, but everything is against it. I dislike this bloodshed, though the men who fall are my cruel enemies who are thirsting for our blood; but I am king here, and when I die, my son must be king in my place. I have done nothing but good for my people, and because they have been raised against me by treacherous foes, I will not be coward enough to go."