Then, too, one of his gentleman customers had suggested that when the fact of an American prince being in London came to the king's ears he would probably order him to be brought to the palace. In that case, as the furrier well knew, he would never be recompensed for his outlay, since King James was not given to spending unnecessary money, and he might even be called to account for holding a royal personage in captivity. He wished now that he had not described his Indian as a prince; and, all things considered, decided that the sooner he got rid of him the better off he would be.
It happened that while he was in this frame of mind he was visited by a travelling mountebank, whose business was to exhibit freaks and curiosities of whatsoever kind he could obtain, at country fairs. Having heard of the fur-dealer's Indian, he went to see him, and was so impressed with his value as an attraction that he promptly offered ten pounds for him.
"Already haf I refused forty," replied the furrier.
"It was doubtless offered when he was in condition. Now, as any one may see, he is on the verge of a quick decline and is like to die on your hands. It would be a risk to take him at any price, and it will cost a pretty penny to restore him to health, without which he is of no more value than a mangy dog."
"But I haf advanced twenty pund for his passage-money, and haf been at the expense of his keep ever since."
"A cost that has been repaid a thousand-fold by the advertisement he has given your wares. But to insure you against loss, which I well know a Jew hates worse than death itself, I will give twenty pounds for the varlet, sick and scrawny though he be. What say you? Is it a bargain?"
"Hand over the price and he is yours."
Of course the subject of this barter was not consulted concerning it. Nor did he know anything of the change about to come over his life until darkness had fallen. Then, as he lay on his bed of musty straw, dreaming of the free forest life that was once his, he was startled by the entrance into his room of two men, one of whom bore a rush-light. In him Nahma recognized his hated keeper, but the other was a stranger.
"Come," said the former, gruffly; and, glad of any break in the deadly monotony of his life, Nahma obediently followed him, while the other brought up the rear.