"While we were salaaming and genuflecting and using grandiloquent
phrases the bally leopard got loose, somehow. Maybe some one let him
loose; I don't know. Anyhow, he made for the king, who was too
thunderstruck to dodge. The rest of 'em took to their heels, you may
lay odds on that. Now, I had an honest liking for the king. Seeing
the brute make for him, I dashed forward. You see, at ceremonials
you're not permitted to carry arms. It had to be with my hands. The
leopard knocked the old boy flat and began to maul him. I kicked the
brute in the face, swept the king's turban off his head and flung it
about the head of the leopard. Somehow or other I got him down. Some
of the frightened natives came up, and with the help of Ahmed we got
the brute tied up securely. When the king came around he silently
shook hands with me and smiled peculiarly at Umballa, who now came
running up."

"And that's how you got those poor hands!" exclaimed Kathlyn, kissing
the scars which stood out white against the tan.

"That's how," raising the hands and putting them on Kathlyn's head in a
kind of benediction.

"Is that all?" asked Winnie breathlessly.

"Isn't that enough?" he retorted. "Well, what is it, Martha? Dinner?
Well, if I haven't cheated you girls out of your tea!"

"Tea!" sniffed Winnie disdainfully. "Do you know, dad, you're awfully
mean to Kit and me. If you'd take the trouble you could be more
interesting than any book I ever read."