All seemed lost!  Foster-father and Faithful stood petrified with despair.  Meroo would have dashed forward to catch at the rein but Roy, knowing with that curious instinct of his, that that would only make matters worse, as it would still further frighten the mare, held him back by main force.  The only person who was not spellbound with fear was Baby Akbar.  He thought it a fine joke that his mount should stand up on its hind legs and paw the air.  So he shrieked with delight, and dropped the reins to clap his hands, as he always did when he was pleased.  Now this was the very best thing he, or anybody else, could have done.  The mare, feeling herself free, thought better of it, and wheeling round dropped her fore feet on the path once more.

Foster-father’s loud Arabic thanksgiving ended in an equally loud order.  “Get off the mare, woman.  Horse-chestnut is the only mount thou art fit for.  Roy! carry that foolish umbrella behind.”

“In front—­the emblems are ever carried in front,” protested Head-nurse feebly.

“I said behind,” was all the answer she got, and behind it went while they toiled up and up.

After a while the road became surprisingly bad; nothing in fact but a watercourse, and Foster-father began to doubt if they could be on the right way.  Possibly, when they were all excited over the mare’s bad behaviour, they had taken a wrong turning.  But as the path led ever upwards, he judged it better to go on, though it was terribly hard work.  Every moment the road became worse and worse until it ceased to be more than a mere ladder of rocks which puzzled even Horse-chestnut.  More than once he stopped dead and would no doubt have refused any further attempt to climb had there been anything at which to graze.  But there was nothing; nothing but rocks.  So, after a pause he made the best of a bad bargain, raised himself on his hind legs, sought a foothold for his fore feet in some crevice, and then scrambled up.  Only the two children enjoyed themselves, Baby Akbar laughing with delight and clapping his hands over all the slips and slitherings which even nimble Horse-chestnut made, and which reduced Head-nurse and Wet-nurse to piteous wails to Roy not for Heaven’s sake to let go of the Heir-to-Empire’s baggy trousers.  And Adam enjoyed himself, also, running on in front and making snowballs in the drifts which, ere long, were to be seen sheltering from the sun in the clefts of the rocks.

The sight of them made Foster-father frown.  “We go too high,” he said.  “Heaven send we have not to climb to a higher pass.”

His remark made Head-nurse give way altogether.  She wept loudly, saying in that case she had better stay and die where she was, thus saving them the trouble of carrying her down the hill.

At that very moment, however, Adam who had run far ahead began waving his arms and shouting: 

“He says ‘The top! the top!’” cried Roy, who was keen in hearing as in everything else.  “Courage, mother! our troubles are over!”