"Maybe the ruby will help," said the little Prince, squirming about so he could see Betsy. Carter, on the other side, gave her such an encouraging wink that the little girl stopped worrying and began to look around with real interest. Down Town, as Betsy had said in the first place, was quite like other down towns, except that there were no motors nor wagons and the men who crowded the streets were gaily costumed in green and yellow bills. Four of the Down Officers had hold of the net entangling the Hungry Tiger, one officer had hold of each of the others and the rest tramped importantly ahead of the procession.
"Who's Dad?" asked Betsy, as they were propelled through the swinging doors of a large white bank.
"The King," answered the officer haughtily.
"Is he a kind King?" sniffed the sad singer nervously. "What kind of a King is Dad. Will he make us happy or make us sad?"
"You'll soon see," grunted the officer, pushing him roughly into an elevator. The others were thrust as unceremoniously after him, the car shot upward and the next minute they were all marched out upon the roof. In a swivel chair on top of the bank, sat Dad. He was reading a paper and beside him on a high stool sat the most curious lady Betsy had ever seen.
"Their Majesties the King and Queen of Down Town!" boomed the officer, who had hold of Betsy Bobbin. "Robbers, your Highness!" he announced with a low bow.
CHAPTER 9
The Indus Tree
At the officer's ringing words, King Dad lowered his paper, and as he got a good look at the Hungry Tiger, his chair fell forward with a crash.