In his hurry Roy almost flung himself from rock to rock down the descent; but he had to pause to take off his fur coat, for in this sheltered spot the sun beat shadelessly, the snow melted as he passed, the stones ran with moisture, and in the crannies of the rocks young green things were everywhere starting into growth.  The past storm of bitter cold had ended winter; spring had begun.  And now the rushing torrent, escaping finally from its snowy blanket, dashed over the boulders beside him, carrying with it great blocks of melting snow.

On and on he went, thinking the descent would never end, till at a turn he saw below him a tiny valley, just a sort of cup in the hills, through which the stream rushed, sparkling in the sunshine.  The banks were still brown, but they were patched with great beds of rose-pink primula, blue gentian, and yellow dog pansies.  And on a perfect carpet of these sat three dark figures!  Never in his life was Roy so overjoyed.  He forgot his fatigue, and ran on until he could plainly see Princess Bakshee Bani Begum making cowslip balls out of the pink primulas, the Heir-to-Empire contentedly munching a cold hearth cake, and giving bits of it to Tumbu, who, with his head cocked on one side, had evidently heard Roy’s distant step.  The next instant a furious barking showed that he was on the alert to defend his young charges, and Roy had to call to him again and again before he was satisfied that the newcomer was a friend.

“Why, what a long time you’ve been coming,” said the Heir-to-Empire calmly.  “We’ve had our breakfast, ’cos we couldn’t wait any longer.  You can’t have come as fast as you could.  No more would Tumbu, only we made him not be lazy, ’cos Head-nurse says—­what is it she says, Bija?”

The little girl looked solemn.  “She says every one should do everything as quick as ever they can.  So we shouted at Tumbu and pulled his tail just a liddly-wee bit like the bullock drivers do.  And then we had the loveliest ride, and Tumbu wasn’t a bit cross; but he wouldn’t go down the rocks and growled.  So we had to get out and walk.  And then we came here, and first of all we picked flowers; then I had hearth cakes and popcorn in my veil, and so we ate our breakfast, and then you came—­and that’s all, thank you!” She had just finished a lovely soft ball and she flung it full at the Heir-to-Empire.  It hit him, but he took no notice.  He was thinking of something else.

“But where,” he began, and his little lip went down, “is Head-nurse—­and Foster-father—­and Foster-mother—­and Old Faithful—­and Meroo—­and Down?  What have you done with them, slave?”