But now Todar Rao, the sirdar, had sprung to his
side and dragged the youth to his feet.
"'O princes and people, this is your rightful king,' cried the soldier
in stentorian tones, 'crowned and proclaimed and accepted by your
pledges of loyalty. My orders to the troops are death to those who now
betray him.'
"But the words had hardly passed his lips, when two score of the
mountaineers, shouting 'Deen, deen,--Kill, kill,' had swarmed over the
silver railings surrounding the throne. There was the momentary clash of
steel on steel, the impotent curse of an angry man, a shrill pitiful cry
of anguish from the youth who in his terror had crouched behind the
awnings descending from the canopy. And when the tribesmen again faced
the multitude, the soldierly figure of Todar Rao had disappeared, and
the throne was vacant for the reception of its rightful occupant.
"Amidst a wild tumult of joy the young prince ascended from the dais and
took the royal seat, showing in his every movement the natural grace and
dignity that might almost in themselves have proved his right of
heritage, and that certainly won to his cause the last waverers among
the onlooking multitude. Even the bodyguard of the slain sirdar were
now joining in the universal acclaim.
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