“But,” said Walda, “I know the people of King ’Ngaloo well; they do not love fighting, they would rather cross the hills to their own homes.”
“Yes, true, Walda; but the king—the king. Remember that he rules over them, and if he bids them fight, then fight they must, and will.”
“Ah! the king!” replied the wily Walda. “Yes, to be sure, only they will not fight if he does not order them to do so.”
“No, Walda. But why do you smile? Now you are laughing outright. What amuses you, Walda?”
“Not anything much,” said Walda, “but—leave the king to me.”
Harry with his men and Googagoo’s army were to start the very next morning, against all odds, however fearful these might be; so, to be ready for any emergency, he drew his people well to the north, at some distance from those of ’Ngaloo’s. And then they camped all night ready armed.
But Walda had managed matters very prettily. He had sat up with King ’Ngaloo nearly all night, telling him wonderful stories of his own invention, and every now and again helping his majesty to another dose of his beloved fire-water.
The consequence of all this was, that when Googagoo and Harry went to bid him goodbye next morning in the hammock where he still lay, they found him rather forgetful of all recent events, but otherwise in a most amiable mood indeed.
The king said farewell at least a dozen times.
He shook hands with each of his visitors more than a dozen times.