finest marksman in India.  But it would take too long to tell all the games they played, all the manly sports which the little prince learned without any difficulty.  There was a shallow marble tank in the middle of the garden, where he took to the water like a duck, and would lie on his back and kick and shout with laughter as the tank got rough with waves, till Foster-mother would beg him not to drown, as the water splashed over him high in the air.

But Foster-father always reproved her for her fears.  “Leave the lad to learn King’s ways,” he said, “and thank Heaven the Rajput foundling is here to teach him.  Think you I could tumble head over heels in air or water or ride bareback standing on one leg?”

“No, indeed!” would reply Head-nurse, who stifled her terrors from a sense of duty, “none, seeing thy figure, friend, would ask so much of thee.”

Then, when Akbar grew tired, Roy would sit leaning his back against a peach tree so as to make a soft pillow for his little master, and Akbar would lean against him and listen to endless stories while the soft fresh breeze stole over the garden wall, and sent showers of pink peach petals on both the boys.  And sometimes the little Prince, outwearied, would fall asleep, and then Roy would sit still as a mouse, gently flicking away with the end of his muslin turban the blossoms that fell on the little sleeper’s face.  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!

Then Akbar would wake and call imperiously for some favourite story, and as often as not it would be the tale of “How Rajah Rasalu swung the Seventy Maidens.”

And Roy would reply submissively:  “It is ordered, Highness!” and begin: 

“Now Rajah Rasalu, soft heart and strong, heard a pitiful voice as he rode along.  ’Oh traveller! traveller! turn aside, and help God’s creature,’ it moaned and cried.  So the Prince turned straight and saw that a fire had caught a bush, blazing higher and higher, while a tiny cricket lay gasping for breath, half-scorched, half-choked, and nigh to its death.  Then Rajah Rasalu, soft hearted and stout, put his hand in the fire and snatched it out!  And the cricket drew forth a feeler and said:  ’Take this, my preserver, ’twill bring you aid; should any thing ever prove troublesome, burn this in the fire and I will come.’  Then Rasalu laughed with a great big laugh, ’I thank you, weakling!  But none of your chaff! You couldn’t help me I’ll go bail.’  So he rode on careless o’er hill and dale, a glittering knight in his shining mail, till he came to the city of King Surkap, whom he’d sworn to kill with his sword so sharp.  Now as he rode through a garden gay, Seventy Maidens barred