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Rh As we rowed into a beautiful bay surrounded by the customary palm-trees, a sentinel on shore said, "Boat ahoy!"

I answered pleasantly, "Boat ahoy."

"What boat is that?" he inquired.

"It's just an ordinary boat," I answered.

"What boat is it?" he asked aeain.

"I'm sure I don't know," said I. "What do you want to know for?"

"If you don't answer the hail, I 'll fire on you!" he said sternly.

"I'm answering as fast as I can," I replied good-naturedly. "What do you expect me to say?" At this he raised his crossbow and leveled it (I think that is the technical term employed by military men) at the boat,—in fact, at me.

"Come ashore!" he cried in a peremptory tone.

"We are coming," I answered. He seemed very obtuse and unreasonable, but I make it a point never to quarrel with soldiers on duty. We landed at a little neat quay, and were received by the comrades of the conversationalist with the crossbow.

They surrounded us in a very attentive way and said, "Forward, march!"

We started. I was a trifle uneasy about our destination, and ventured to inquire of my niece where she thought we were going. She admitted that she did n't know, and added languidly that she did n't feel like talking. So on we went in silence for about half an hour. Then I asked the captain of the guard,—I knew he was the captain because he would n't keep step,—and he told me we were going to the Palace. I asked whether it was far. He said it was about as far as any place he ever saw, and suggested that I should keep my breath for walking. I despise useless taciturnity, but followed his advice under protest. We walked on for another half-hour,