Felix had to repeat his story, and he was regarded as quite a hero by the Americans, though Sir Modava and other natives thought but little of it. Mrs. Blossom continued to scold at him for not running away from the serpents.

"How could I run away when I was surrounded by the snakes?" demanded Felix, when the worthy lady's discipline became somewhat monotonous to him. "If I had done what you say I should certainly have been bitten. I did better: I climbed the tree, and bagged the whole four at my leisure."

"But snakes can climb trees," persisted the excellent woman.

"I suppose they can, but they don't always; and I knew the one nearest me wouldn't do much climbing with a hole through his head. Besides, they say the cobra does not come at you unless you meddle with him, like the rattlesnake. I suppose I disturbed them, and they hoisted the flags to let me know they were in town. I wanted to reduce the number of the varmints a little."

"But why did Khayrat tell me I ought not to have shot a monkey?" asked Morris.

"Because monkeys are harmless, and the Hindus consider them sacred. Before you get to Calcutta you will find them housed in temples. Besides, the natives are very tender of all animals," replied Sir Modava.

"In the hospital for lame ducks and superannuated bullfrogs we visited in Bombay, do they take in sick cobras?" asked Felix. "Do they nurse lame tigers?"

"They do not; it would not be quite safe to do so. Morris, the monkey you shot will be decently buried," said the Hindu gentleman.

"I am willing; for, though they eat them in some countries, I don't hanker after any monkey-flesh," replied the young hunter. "I met a man at my father's house who had lived for years in Africa, and he said they ate the boa-constrictor there,--the natives did, not the white people."

"So I have heard; but many Hindus never eat meat at all," added Sir Modava, as the party retired to dress for dinner.

The party were to dine at the palace with the Guicowar, and it was to be a state dinner. Though contrary to Hindu etiquette, the ladies were all invited, and they were treated with "distinguished consideration." It was a very elaborate occasion, and a few speeches were made at the last of it. The principal one was by the king himself, who enlarged upon his relations with Lord Tremlyn and Sir Modava, whom he regarded as two of his best friends.

From this point, he dwelt upon his esteem for the commander of the Guardian-Mother, who had rendered a service to India in saving them from certain death, which they, better than he, could understand and appreciate.

Captain Ringgold and General Noury made fitting replies; and the party returned, escorted by a score of torch-bearers, to the "Garden of Pearls" as the summer palace in which they were lodged was called. They appeared early in the morning, and after they had taken their coffee Louis and Felix took a long walk outside the palace walls. At the gate they saw a little animal which seemed disposed to make friends with them. They had brought their guns with them, and Felix was on the point of firing at him when Louis interposed.

"That's a mongoose," said the latter. "Haven't you heard of him?"

"Never did."

"The creature is a sort of ichneumon, with a long body, extending back of his hind legs, which gradually decreases in size till it becomes his tail. His body is long, even without the portion of it which belongs to his caudal appendage. He has a small head and a sharp nose, and is something like a weasel. He has the reputation of being the great serpent-killer of India, and many wonderful stories are told of him. He is very useful about a house in destroying rats and other small nuisances."

The mongoose ran along ahead of the boys while Louis told what he knew about him. Felix protested that a little fellow like that couldn't do anything with such a cobra as he had shot the day before, for the snake was a trifle more than five feet long. They had gone but a short distance farther before Khayrat stepped out from a tree which had concealed him.

"There's a cobra in here somewhere," said the officer, who was one of the king's huntsmen. "I brought out my mongoose, but the little rascal has left me."

"There he is, just ahead of us," replied Louis. "He seems like a kitten, he is so tame."

"He is my pet, and I am very fond of him, for I think he saved my life once. I was just on the point of stepping on a cobra when Dinky attacked the snake and killed him after a fight," added Khayrat. "I think he is on the track of the enemy, for the serpent killed two chickens last night."

"There he is!" exclaimed Felix, as he brought his gun to his shoulder.

"Don't fire! Let Dinky take care of him; for my pet is spoiling for a fight, as one of the Americans said yesterday," interposed Khayrat.

The serpent was a large one, though not equal in size to the one Felix had shot the day before. He had erected his head, and spread out his hood, and he looked as ugly as sin itself. He knows all about the mongoose, and seems to have an instinctive hatred of his little but mighty enemy.

The little snake-killer made a spring at him, and then skilfully whirled himself around so that the snake could not bite him. Dinky knew what he was about all the time; and though his foe struck at him several times, he dodged him and put in several bites. After considerable manoeuvring, the snake appeared to have had enough of it, and deemed it prudent to beat a retreat. He dropped on the ground, and headed for a thicket; but this was just what Dinky wanted. He sprang upon the neck of the cobra, placing his fore-paws on him, and then crushed his spine with his sharp teeth. The serpent was dead, after writhing an instant.

The fight was ended, and Khayrat caressed the victor. Louis declared that the mongoose was a friend worth having, and immediately made a bargain with the huntsman to procure him a couple of them, and send them to Calcutta. They returned to the palace; and at the breakfast-table Louis told the story of the battle, in which all the Americans were much interested. But the business of the forenoon was the great Sowari, or public procession; and the party were conveyed in carriages to the pavilion, from the veranda of which they were to see the spectacle. An abundance of easy-chairs was provided for them, and they were made very comfortable.

It required mor............