“Yes.  And I suppose they’ve often talked about us in the town since,” said Jip—­“wondering whether we’re dead or alive.”

“Cease,” said Bumpo, “I feel I am about to weep from sediment.”

THE SEVENTH CHAPTER

THE DOCTOR’S DECISION

Well, you can guess how glad we were when next morning the Doctor, after his all-night conversation with the snail, told us that he had made up his mind to take the holiday.  A proclamation was published right away by the Town Crier that His Majesty was going into the country for a seven-day rest, but that during his absence the palace and the government offices would be kept open as usual.

Polynesia was immensely pleased.  She at once set quietly to work making arrangements for our departure—­taking good care the while that no one should get an inkling of where we were going, what we were taking with us, the hour of our leaving or which of the palace-gates we would go out by.

Cunning old schemer that she was, she forgot nothing.  And not even we, who were of the Doctor’s party, could imagine what reasons she had for some of her preparations.  She took me inside and told me that the one thing I must remember to bring with me was all of the Doctor’s note-books.  Long Arrow, who was the only Indian let into the secret of our destination, said he would like to come with us as far as the beach to see the Great Snail; and him Polynesia told to be sure and bring his collection of plants.  Bumpo she ordered to carry the Doctor’s high hat—­carefully hidden under his coat.  She sent off nearly all the footmen who were on night duty to do errands in the town, so that there should be as few servants as possible to see us leave.  And midnight, the hour when most of the towns-people would be asleep, she finally chose for our departure.

We had to take a week’s food-supply with us for the royal holiday.  So, with our other packages, we were heavy laden when on the stroke of twelve we opened the west door of the palace and stepped cautiously and quietly into the moonlit garden.

“Tiptoe incognito,” whispered Bumpo as we gently closed the heavy doors behind us.

No one had seen us leave.

At the foot of the stone steps leading from the Peacock Terrace to the Sunken Rosary, something made me pause and look back at the magnificent palace which we had built in this strange, far-off land where no white men but ourselves had ever come.  Somehow I felt it in my bones that we were leaving it to-night never to return again.  And I wondered what other kings and ministers would dwell in its splendid halls when we were gone.  The air was hot; and everything was deadly still but for the gentle splashing of the tame flamingoes paddling in the lily-pond.  Suddenly the twinkling lantern of a night watchman appeared round the corner of a cypress hedge.  Polynesia plucked at my stocking and, in an impatient whisper, bade me hurry before our flight be discovered.