When Tullydub had counted up to forty the excitement redoubled, for every one could see big drops of perspiration standing upon the chief counselor’s brow, and all the other high counselors, who stood just behind him, were trembling violently with nervousness.
A ragged, limping peddler entered the gate.
“Forty-five!” shouted Tullydub.
Then came Aunt Rivette, dragging at the bridle of the donkey.
“Forty-six!” screamed Tullydub.
And now Bud rode through the gate, perched among the bundles on the donkey’s back and looking composedly upon the throng of anxious faces that greeted him.
“‘FORTY-SEVEN!’ CRIED THE CHIEF COUNSELOR. ‘LONG LIVE THE NEW KING OF NOLAND!’”
“Forty-seven!” cried the chief counselor; and then in his loudest voice he continued:
“Long live the new King of Noland!”