Then suddenly his eye caught Tumbu, who was marching along sullenly, Down nestling, fast clawed in his broad, furry back.  Could the dog carry a child?  A creature with four feet had greater purchase of foothold than one with two.

“Roy,” he said, “turn the cat off and put the Heir-to-Empire on the dog’s back; he must be tired also.”

Mirak, nothing loath, climbed quickly to his mount; but ere he had settled himself on its back Tumbu had begun to sink slowly.  The little lad’s weight was too much for even four feet; there was a struggle, over went the little Prince, and both he and Tumbu had to be picked up and set on their legs again on a fresh, unbroken place.

Foster-father looked in despair at Old Faithful, and for a minute no one said anything.  Then the old man’s face lit up.  “Lo!  I had forgotten it utterly, but the time and place bring memory back.  Firdoos Gita Makani—­who knew all things under the sun—­had a favourite horse, that strained itself falling into a drift.  They were for leaving it to die, but that did not suit Firdoos Gita Makani, who was kind to all God’s creatures.  So, having read of the like somewhere, he set us to make a sort of platform with our lances and blankets underneath the poor brute, and so we dragged him over the snow, until we reached a place where there was water and grass.”

“We have no lances,” said Foster-father, “and there is no wood.”  He looked around helplessly.

“My lord has a sword,” put in Roy eagerly, “and so has Faithful.  If he were to tie them crossways to the scabbards—­” He had already thrown off his skin coat and was unwinding his long muslin waistband to tear it into strips to use as a cord.

“It is worth the trying, friend Foster-father,” said Old Faithful, unbuckling his sword.

“Aye!” continued Roy, elated with the idea, “and Tumbu can drag it.  He makes no mark on the snow, so it will be smooth and slippy—­and the curved scabbards will be like runners.”

His dexterous fingers were hard at work binding the long sword blades to place.  Then a strip of woollen shawl was fastened to them as a seat, Meroo’s turban served as harness, and in less time than could have been imagined the quaint sledge was ready for trial.

Mirak sat on it first.  “Now then, Tumbu!  Good dog!” said Roy in a flutter for fear of failure.  Tumbu turned round, looked at his little master with a broad grin of red tongue and white teeth, gave a little grunt, and started.

The sledge slid on over the frozen snow quite easily!

“Now praise be to God!” cried Foster-father, overjoyed.

“And Grand-dad!” said the little Prince, who always listened to everything; “but I knew he would help us, didn’t you, Bija?”

“But I want to go on the thing, too,” she whimpered.

“Mayhap it might support them both,” put in Head-nurse; “she is but a featherweight, and there is plenty of room.”