"They've gone to tell the King," said Stedman; "but you'd better get
something to eat first, and then I'll be happy to present you properly."

"The King," said Captain Travis, with some awe; "is there a king?"

"I never saw a king," Gordon remarked, "and I'm sure I never expected to
see one sitting on a log in the rain."

"He's a very good king," said Stedman, confidentially; "and though you
mightn't think it to look at him, he's a terrible stickler for etiquette
and form. After supper he'll give you an audience; and if you have any
tobacco, you had better give him some as a present, and you'd better say
it's from the President: he doesn't like to take presents from common
people, he's so proud. The only reason he borrows mine is because he
thinks I'm the President's son."

"What makes him think that?" demanded the consul, with some shortness.
Young Mr. Stedman looked nervously at the consul and at Albert, and
said that he guessed some one must have told him.

The consul's office was divided into four rooms with an open court in
the middle, filled with palms, and watered somewhat unnecessarily by a
fountain.

"I made that," said Stedman, in a modest off-hand way. "I made it out of
hollow bamboo reeds connected with a spring. And now I'm making one for
the King. He saw this and had a lot of bamboo sticks put up all over the
town, without any underground connections, and couldn't make out why the
water wouldn't spurt out of them. And because mine spurts, he thinks I'm
a magician."