Mr. Stedman did not notice this. He was too much pleased to
be anything but hospitable. "You are soaking wet, aren't
you?" he said; "and hungry, I guess. You come right over to
the consul's office and get on some other things."

He turned to the natives and gave some rapid orders in their
language, and some of them jumped into the boat at this, and
began to lift out the trunks, and others ran off toward a
large, stout old native, who was sitting gravely on a log,
smoking, with the rain beating unnoticed on his gray hair.

"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."