“You say that as a sort of compliment,” he said.
“That I don’t. I never pay compliments, for I know you don’t like them. If you did, you and I shouldn’t be such friends.”
The young Rajah turned and gazed fixedly in the speaker’s eyes for a few moments, and then turned hastily to help himself from the dish handed to him.
“No, we shouldn’t,” he said in a low voice as soon as the dish was removed; and he began to trifle with the food. “Yes,” he continued, “those were jolly days at the big school; and it seemed so strange to come back here from studies and cricket and football.” He laughed softly as he turned merrily to look at his companion again. “I say, how I used to get knocked about! The chaps used to say that it got my monkey up, but I suppose it did me good.”
“No doubt,” said Archie merrily. “You got over wanting to kris the fellows, didn’t you?”
“Of course; and it made me so English that I don’t want to kris the poor fellows now that I have come back and am Maharajah here in my father’s stead. But it was all no good,” he added, with a sigh.
“What?” exclaimed Archie wonderingly.
“No good,” repeated the young man. “He sent for me to come home, but it was only to say good-bye and tell me that I was to love the English and be their friend so as to make them my friends. ‘They are a great people, Hamet,’ he said—‘a great people. We are only little chiefs, but they can rule the world.’ I want to be their friend, but somehow they don’t like me but make much of Suleiman.”
“Oh, wait a bit,” said Archie. “I think you are wrong. We English are such blunt people. Why, our Major—he was my father’s schoolfellow—he’s a splendid old chap.”
“Yes; but he doesn’t trust me,” said the young Malay.