.. STRODE ... INTO THE TENT 16
THE CHILD HAD SLIPPED IT ONTO HIS LITTLE FOREFINGER 62
SO THEY BOTH TOUCHED THE COLD MARBLE FLOOR WITH THEIR
WARM LITTLE FOREHEADS 98
AHEAD OF THEM, A SHADOW SHOWED, A SHAMBLING SHADOW!
TUMBU ... WITH A BOUND WAS OFF FULL TILT AFTER IT 126
AND ONE DAY THE DOOR DID OPEN.... "MY SON--MY LITTLE SON!" 166
"LADIES! UNVEIL!" 176
"I STAY MY HAND WHILE I COUNT TEN--NO MORE" 198
CHAPTER I
FAREWELL
_Bismillah Al-la-hu Akbar!_
These queer-looking, queer-sounding words, which in Arabic mean "thanks
be to God," were shrilled out at the very top of Head-nurse's voice. Had
she been in a room they would have filled it and echoed back from the
walls; for she was a big, deep-chested woman. But she was only in a
tent; a small tent, which had been pitched in a hurry in an
out-of-the-way valley among the low hills that lead from the wide plains
of India to Afghanistan. For Head-nurse's master and mistress, King
Humayon and Queen Humeeda, with their thirteen months' old little son,
Prince Akbar, were flying for their lives before their enemies. And
these enemies were led by Humayon's own brothers, Prince Kumran, Askurry
and Hindal. It is a long story, and a sad story, too, how Humayon, so
brave, so clever, so courteous, fell into misfortune by his own fault,
and had to fly from his beautiful palaces at Delhi and wander for years,
pursued like a hare, amid the sandy deserts and pathless plains of
Western India.
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