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The chiefs looked at each other furtively. There was a pause. Then suddenly an old, thin voice the voice of the old mountain chief, who remembered Babar the brave rose on the silence. "God save the Heir-to-Empire!" It gave the lead, and from every side rose the cry: "God save the Heir-to-Empire!" Prince Askurry's face fell.
They got through several of them quite successfully, Princess Bija making a spirited carpenter's lad and killing his dragon with great vigour, while the Heir-to-Empire, disguising his deep baby voice in a high squeak, doubled the parts of the seventy-nine maidens and the cricket. So all went merry as a marriage bell until Rasâlu had to order the giggling crew out of the swing.
But his thoughts would be busy, wondering above other things why it was that, do what he would, he could not help when they were alone at play sometimes calling the Heir-to-Empire "little brother." It was dreadfully wrong of him, of course, and Head-nurse would rightly cuff his ears if she overheard it!
All, however, admired the big, bold, strong little Heir-to-Empire; all but his aunt and uncle; and the former bid Head-nurse take away her young savage at once, while the latter's crafty face, uneasy before, settled into a scowl.
And here we come to the end for a time at least of Prince Akbar's adventures. Now, if you want to know how much of this so-called veracious story is really true, I cannot quite say. Did some one like Roy really tell the master fireworker that the Heir-to-Empire was hung over the battlements of the bastion? If some one did not, how did the master-fireworker find it out?
Should he call to the little Heir-to-Empire and let him know that a friend was near, that help might come? No! perhaps he did not realise his danger. It was better to let be. So gathering all his forces for a last effort, he dashed into the open for the final five minutes' run. And there could be no dodging here.
Only that morning something had seemed to come back to him in a flash, and he had so far forgotten he was only a page boy as to call the little Heir-to-Empire "Brother," but Head-nurse's cuff had brought him back to reality in double quick time. And as he sat there in the dark he saw a man creeping stealthily to the tent. He was on his feet in a moment challenging him.
Sumbal's hand swings the portfire to the breech. Roy sees it, throws up his arms wildly, and with a cry "The bastion! The bastion! The Heir-to-Empire!" falls headlong into the Râjput's arms. "What did he say?" asked the master fireworker, pausing half surprised, half angry. But the Râjput was too busy tearing aside Roy's flimsy, bloodstained waistcoat to answer.
And unfortunately the "pearl of pearls," Râjah Rasâlu's bride, did not fall on top. She fell underneath the Heir-to-Empire, and the Heir-to-Empire was heavy! So there was her poor little lip all cut and her pretty little nose all bleeding.
"I think it had better be grand-dad," said the Heir-to-Empire gravely, "'cos my father isn't dead yet, and they must be deaders, you know, if they are really to help." "And we'll take the little summer room at the very top of the house, Mirak, so's we'll be able to stop him on his way down, 'case any one else has got a platter for him," said Bija the practical.
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