Only some sweet old-fashioned Scottish lilts he played, but they pleased his majesty immensely, and after each he rubbed his hands and said, “Lobo! Lobo! Lobo!”
Could Harry now tell him more of the story of the world?
Yes, Harry could and would. He laid the concertina gently down by his side, and, turning half round to where the king was squatting, began to tell him through Raggy the simple Bible story of the creation.
Raggy had heard it all before, and was quite capable of translating it.
Next night Harry was even stronger; King Googagoo brought into the tent quite a crowd of his favourite amazons, and the young historian had to begin at the beginning again.
To have seen the boy preacher leaning half up in his hammock as he told in earnest language his wondrous tale, and the innocent looks of the simple king with the firelight playing over his face, and the background of terrible-looking but listening amazons, would have suggested a picture to many an artist which might have made him famous.
The story of Joseph seemed, next to that of Eden’s garden, particularly to interest his hearers, and many an interjection, many a marvelling “Lobo?” did the king utter while Harry spoke through Raggy.
His remarks, too, were innocent, not to say childish, but very much to the point.
Almost every night for weeks Harry had to tell the Bible and New Testament tale. And one day, when now nearly strong again, he was gratified to find the king himself repeating the story to his people.
And they seemed spellbound.