"Come!" he said briefly, "there may yet be a chance for us. My horse,
weary though it be, will suffice for thy light weight. In the mountains
lies possible safety. Come! There is not a moment to lose."

"But--but the child--" faltered the Queen.

King Humâyon's voice failed him. He could not speak for a moment; but he
shook his head.

"I will not leave the child--" began the wretched mother. "My lord! thou
canst not have the heart----"

"It is his only chance--" interrupted the poor King, his face full of
grief and anger, of bitter, bitter regret--"His only chance of life! In
the mountains yonder, with winter snow upon us, lies certain death for
one so young. Were we to stay with him here, he would find death with
us--for my brother Askurry is close behind us. But if we are gone, God
knows, but he might spare the child. Askurry is not all unkind, and the
little lad favors my father so much that his blessed memory may be
safeguard. God send it so. It is his best chance, his only chance. So
come----"

"I cannot! I cannot!" moaned the poor mother distractedly.

"There is no other way, sweetheart!" said the King, "so be brave, little
mother, and come for thy son's sake. He will be safer here than with
thee. Come! trusting in God's mercy for the child. And come quickly
while the darkness of the storm shrouds our going."