"For the few simple cures I have effected."
"Few? Hundreds."
"Well, hundreds, then. But what has it done?"
"Made you friends with every one in the city."
"Made me a number of bitter enemies, sir. Why, the native doctors absolutely hate me. My word! I should not like to be taken ill and become helpless. They'd never let me get well again if they had the doctoring."
"Don't be too hard on them," said Mr. Kenyon.
"Not I, my dear sir. I only speak as I think. So you would not take a step in our defence?"
"Not until we were certain that it was necessary; then as many as you like. Steps? I'd make them good long strides. But say no more: the boys are coming back, and we don't want to set them thinking about such things."
In effect, steps were heard in the verandah, and a few minutes later
Harry hurried into the museum again.
"Well, boy!" cried the doctor. "What is it? you look hot."
"Tiger," said Harry eagerly.
"Where?" cried Mr. Kenyon and his visitor in a breath.
"Over yonder, by the new sugar plantation," cried Harry. "Jumped on a man and killed him. Sree has just heard the news. He told me and Phra."
"How horrible!" said Mr. Kenyon.
"Yes, and the village people sent a messenger to Sree. They want the brute killed, and we're going to have an expedition and destroy the wretch."
"Indeed?" said Mr. Kenyon drily.
"You and Mr. Cameron will come with us, of course, father?" said Harry, who was too much excited to notice the glances exchanged between the merchant and his visitor; "but I should like to have first shot, and kill the beast."
"No doubt," said the doctor drily; "but I suppose you would not wish us to give up our chances if the tiger came out our way?"
"Oh no, of course not," said Harry. Then turning to Mr. Kenyon, "You will try the new rifles the King sent to you, will you not, father?"
"When I go tiger-hunting," said Mr. Kenyon drily.
Harry felt damped by his father's manner.
"But you will go now, father?"
"What, and walk the tiger up like one would a partridge?" said Mr. Kenyon. "Certainly not, and you are not old and experienced enough yet to go tiger-shooting. It requires a great deal of nerve."
"Oh, but I don't think I should feel frightened, father."
"Perhaps not; but you would be too much excited, and might shoot the doctor. We could not spare him, Hal."
"I shouldn't, father. You taught me how to handle a gun, and if I can do that I ought to be able to handle a rifle."
"Possibly; but, as Mr. Cameron will tell you, we could not risk going on foot."
"We're not going on foot, father," cried Harry excitedly. "We're going to have two elephants, and you and doctor could go on one, and Phra and I on the other."
"Oh, that alters the case," said Mr. Cameron eagerly.
"Has the King offered to lend us elephants?" said Mr. Kenyon.
"No, father, but he will," said Harry. "Phra has gone to tell him, and he is sure to say we may have them."
"Indeed? I doubt it."
"He always lets Phra and me have anything we ask for."
"Yes, he is very indulgent to you both, my boy – too much so sometimes; but I notice that there is a certain amount of wisdom in what he does. What about the rifles?"
"Well, he gave us the rifles, father."
"With certain restrictions, Hal. They were to be placed in my charge, and I was to decide when it would be right for you to use them."
"Oh yes, father, he did say that."
"Yes, and I think it was not until you and Phra had been waiting nearly two years that they were sent."
"It was a long time, certainly," agreed Harry.
"The King is a wise man in his way, and I feel pretty sure that he will refuse to lend the elephants. What do you say, Cameron?"
"I agree with you."
"What, and let the tiger lurk about that great plantation and keep on killing the poor fellows who are hoeing?" cried Harry indignantly. "I'm sure he wouldn't; he's too particular about protecting people."
"He will most likely get up a big hunt to destroy the tiger," said the doctor; "but I don't believe he will let you two boys go."
"Oh!" cried Harry, who seemed as if he could hardly contain himself in his keen disappointment; "any one would think it was wicked and contemptible to be a boy. One mustn't do this and one mustn't do that, because one is a boy. One mustn't do anything because one is a boy. It's always, 'You are too young' for what one wants to do. Oh," he cried passionately, "who'd be a boy?"
"I would, for one," said the doctor, laughing.
"I don't believe it, doctor," cried Harry. "You wouldn't like to be always kept down."
"Perhaps not; boys never do. They're too stupid."
"What!" cried Harry.
"Too stupid," said the doctor again, while Mr. Kenyon lay back in his creaking cane chair with his eyes half closed, listening, with an amused expression of countenance. "Why, I was as stupid as you are, Hal, at your age."
"But you did not think so," retorted Hal.
"Of course I did not. I did not know any better. I could not see that by being a thorough boy for so many years, and being boyish and thinking as a boy should think, I should naturally grow into a thorough manly man."
"I don't quite understand you, sir," said Harry rather distantly.
"But I'm speaking plainly enough, Hal. Come, confess, my lad; you want to be a man, and to be treated as if you were one?"
Harry hesitated.
"Speak out frankly, sir," said Mr. Kenyon sternly.
"Well, of course I do," said the lad.
"And you can't see that if we treated you as you wish to be treated," said the doctor earnestly, "that we should be weak, foolish, and indulgent, for we should be doing you harm?"
"Oh, Mr. Cameron, what nonsense!"
"Think of this some day in the future, Hal, my lad," said the doctor warmly, "and you will find then that it is not nonsense. Look here, my lad, a boy of seventeen, however advanced and able he may be in some things, is only a boy."
"Only a boy!" said Harry bitterly.
"Yes, only a boy; a young, green sapling who must pass through years before he can grow naturally into a strong, muscular man. Some boys fret over this and the restraints they undergo, because of their youth, and want to be men at once – want to throw away four or five of the golden years of their existence, and all through ignorance, because they are too blind to see how beautiful they are."
"You told me all that once before, Mr. Cameron."
"Very likely, Hal, for I am rather disposed to moralize sometimes. But it's quite true, my lad."
"Yes." said Mr. Kenyon, "it's true enough, Hal, for boys are wonderfully boyish. Naturally, too, my lad," he added, with a laugh. "But there, don't build any hopes upon this expedition, for I should certainly shrink from letting you go."
"Oh, father, I would be so careful, and I'll believe all Doctor Cameron said and won't want to be a man till I am quite grown up. I'll be as boyish as I can be."
"I think I'd shrink from any promises of that kind, Hal," said the doctor, smiling. "Don't tie yourself down to rules of your own invention. Look