"
"I are glad!" Bruno whispered to Sylvie, when they had got well out of
hearing. "He were so welly cross!" And he not only patted their Royal
escort, but even hugged him round the neck in the exuberance of his
delight.
His Majesty calmly wagged the Royal tail. "It's quite a relief,"
he said, "getting away from that Palace now and then! Royal Dogs have a
dull life of it, I can tell you! Would you mind" (this to Sylvie, in a
low voice, and looking a little shy and embarrassed) "would you mind
the trouble of just throwing that stick for me to fetch?"
Sylvie was too much astonished to do anything for a moment: it sounded
such a monstrous impossibility that a King should wish to run after a
stick. But Bruno was equal to the occasion, and with a glad shout of
"Hi then! Fetch it, good Doggie!" he hurled it over a clump of bushes.
The next moment the Monarch of Dogland had bounded over the bushes, and
picked up the stick, and came galloping back to the children with it in
his mouth. Bruno took it from him with great decision. "Beg for it!"
he insisted; and His Majesty begged. "Paw!" commanded Sylvie; and His
Majesty gave his paw. In short, the solemn ceremony of escorting the
travelers to the boundaries of Dogland became one long uproarious game
of play!
"But business is business!" the Dog-King said at last. "And I must go
back to mine. I couldn't come any further," he added, consulting a
dog-watch, which hung on a chain round his neck, "not even if there
were a Cat insight!"
They took an affectionate farewell of His Majesty, and trudged on.
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