Leeboo rises at last, and, gathering the loose portion of her skirts around her, says: "Come, I would walk."
She is a little way ahead, and she waves her spear so prettily as she smiles her sweetest and points to the grimly ornamental gate.
And after hesitating for one moment, both Kaloomah and the young prince follow sheepishly.
The guards by the gate, grim, fully armed cut-throats, seeing that her majesty expects obedience, fall back, and the trio march through.
But I do not think that either of Leeboo's lovers is prepared for what follows.
If they had calculated on a solemn majestic walk around the plateau, they were soon very much undeceived.
Leeboo had no sooner begun to breathe the glorious mountain air, than she felt as exuberant as a child again. Indeed, she was but little else. But she placed her spear and sceptre of royalty very unceremoniously into Kaloomah's hand to hold, while she darted off after a splendid crimson specimen of dragon-fly.
Kaloomah looked at Kalamazoo. Kalamazoo looked at Kaloomah.
The one didn't love the other, it is true, yet a fellow-feeling made them wondrous kind. And the feeling uppermost in the mind of each was wonder.
Kaloomah beckoned to Kalamazoo, and pointed to the queen. The words he spoke were somewhat as follows: