"I'll wager he knows," whispered Bruce.
"But who can it be? Another poor devil of a white man? Yet how could a white man influence the actions of the council?" The colonel spoke irritably.
"Look!"—from Kathlyn; "there is one of those wonderful trees they call the flame of the jungle." She called their attention to the tree merely to cause a diversion. She wanted to keep her father's thoughts away from Allaha.
So they journeyed on into the sunset, into twilight, into the bright starry night.
Back in the city the panic was already being forgot as a thing of the past. The leopards were back at their patrolling; the high officials and dignitaries, together with the unsuccessful candidates, had gone their several ways. Umballa alone paced the halls, well satisfied with the events of the day, barring the disturbance caused by the escape of the leopards.
His captain entered and saluted.
"Highness, a mahout has news."
"News? Of what?"
"He claims that he saw the king's turban in a howdah which passed the ancient gate about an hour gone."
"That is not possible," replied Umballa.