Next day Sir Bevis, so soon as ever he could get away after dinner, and without waiting for the noontide heat to diminish, set out in all haste for the copse, taking with him his cannon-stick.  He was full of curiosity to know what would happen now that Kapchack was dead, who would now be king, and everything about it, all of which he knew he should learn from the squirrel.  He took his cannon-stick with him heavily loaded, and the charge rammed home well, meaning to shoot the weasel; if the wretch would not come out when called upon to receive the due punishment of his crimes, he would bang it off into his hole in the tree, and, perhaps, some of the shot would reach the skulking vagabond.

He went up the field, reached the great oak-tree, and crossed over to the corner of the wheat-field, but neither the hare nor the dragon-fly were waiting about to conduct him, as was their duty.  He sat down on the grass to see if they would come to him, but although two dragon-flies passed over they did not stay to speak, but went on their journey.  Neither of them was his guide, but they both went towards the copse.  Immediately afterwards a humble-bee came along, droning and talking to himself as he flew.  “Where is the hare?” said Bevis; “and where is the dragon-fly?” “Buzz,” said the humble-bee, “the usual course on occasions like the present — buzz — zz,” the sound of his voice died away as he went past without replying.  Three swallows swept by next at a great pace, chattering as they flew.

“Where’s my dragon-fly?” said Bevis, but they were too busy to heed him.  Presently a dove flew over too high to speak to, and then a missel-thrush, and soon afterwards ten rooks, after whom came a whole bevy of starlings, and behind these a train of finches.  Next a thrush came along the low hedge, then two blackbirds, all so quick that Bevis could not make them understand him.  A crow too appeared, but catching sight of Bevis’s cannon-stick, he smelt the powder, wheeled round and went by far to the left hand out of talking distance.  Still more starlings rushed overhead, and Bevis waved his hand to them, but it was no use.  Just afterwards he saw a thrush coming, so he jumped up, pointed his cannon-stick, and said he would shoot if the thrush did not stop.  Much frightened, the thrush immediately perched on the hedge, and begged Bevis not to kill him, for he remembered the fate of his relation who was shot with the same cannon.

“Tell me where the hare is, and where is my dragon-fly,” said Bevis; “and why are all the people hurrying away towards the copse, and why don’t they stop and tell me, and what is all this about?”

“I do not know exactly where the hare is,” said the thrush, “but I suppose she is in the copse too, and I have no doubt at all the dragon-fly is there, and I am going myself so soon as you will let me.”

“Why are you all going to the copse?” said Bevis.  “Is it because Kapchack is dead?”

“Yes,” said the thrush, “it is because the king is dead, and there is going to be an election, that is if there is time, or if it can be managed; for it is expected that Choo Hoo will return now Kapchack is overthrown.”

“When did Choo Hoo go, then?” asked Bevis — for he had not yet heard of the battle.  So the thrush told him all about it, and how strange it was that King Kapchack in the hour of victory should be slain by the very man who for so many years had protected him.  The thrush said that the news had no doubt reached Choo Hoo very soon afterwards, and everybody expected that the barbarians would gather together again, and come back to take vengeance, and so, as they now had no king or leader, they were all hastening to the copse to take sanctuary from Choo Hoo.  The only doubt was whether the emperor would respect the enclosure hitherto regarded by all the civilised people as a place where they could meet without danger.  The barbarians knew nothing of these tacit agreements, which make communication so easy and pleasant among educated people.  Still there was nothing else they could do.

“And what is going on in the copse?” said Bevis, “and who is to be king?”

“I cannot tell you,” said the thrush, “I was just going to see, and if possible to vote against Ki Ki, who treacherously slew my friend and relation the ambassador, whom the king sent to Choo Hoo.”

“We will go together,” said Bevis, “and you can tell me some more about it as we go along.  One thing is quite certain, the weasel will never be king.”

“Before I go with you,” said the thrush, “you must please leave off pointing that dreadful cannon-stick at me, else I shall not be able to converse freely.”

So Bevis left off pointing it, and carried his gun over his shoulder, just as he had seen his papa carry his.  The thrush flew slowly along beside him, but he could not quite manage to keep at exactly the same pace; his wings would carry him faster than Bevis walked, so he stopped on the ground every now and then for Bevis to come up.

“I am sure,” he said, “I hope the weasel will not be king, and there is a rumour going about that he is disabled by some accident he has met with.  But I greatly fear myself that he will be, notwithstanding what you say, for he is so cunning, and has so terrible a reputation that no one can prevail against him.”

“Pooh!” said Bevis, “don’t tell me such stuff and rubbish; I say the weasel shall not be king, for I am going to shoot him as dead as any nail; after which Pan shall tear him into twenty pieces.”

“But you tried to kill him once before, did you not?” said the thrush.

“You hold your tongue, this minute, you impudent thrush,” said Bevis, in a great rage; and he took his cannon-stick off his shoulder, and looked so black that the thrush, alarmed for his safety, took advantage of a hedge being near, and slipped through it in a second.

“I’m very glad you’re gone,” said Bevis, calling after him, “but I’ll shoot you next time I see you for leaving me without permission.”

“And that will just serve him right,” said a blackbird, as he hastened by, “for the thrush is the greediest bird in the world, and is always poaching about the places that belong to me.”

Bevis was now very near the copse, and had not the least difficulty in finding the little bridge over the ditch, but he stopped before he crossed it, to listen to the noise there was inside among the trees.  Whenever he had come before in the afternoon it was always so quiet, but now there was a perfect uproar of talking.  Hundreds of starlings were chattering in the fir-trees, and flying round the branches with incessant motion.  In the thick hedge which enclosed it there were crowds of greenfinches, goldfinches, chaffinches, yellow-hammers, and sparrows, who never ceased talking.  Up in the elms there were a number of rooks, who were deliberating in a solemn manner; it was indeed the rook council who had met there to consider as the safest place, the very council that Ah Kurroo so much disliked.  Two or three dozen wood-pigeons cowered on the lower branches of some ashes; they were the aliens who dwelt in Kapchack’s kingdom.  Rabbits were rushing about in all directions; dragon-flies darting up and down with messages; humble-bees droning at every corner; the woodpecker yelled out his views in the midst of the wood; everything was in confusion.

As Bevis walked into the copse along the green track, with the tall thistles and the fern on each side of him, he caught little bits here and there of what they were saying; it was always the same, who was going to be king, and what would Choo Hoo do?  How long would it be before the emperor’s army could be got together again to come sweeping back and exact a dire vengeance for its defeat?  Where was the weasel?  What was the last atrocity Ki Ki had committed?  Had anybody heard anything more of Kauc, the crow?  Had Prince Tchack-tchack arrived?  Had the rooks made up their mind? — and so on, till Bevis shook his head and held his hands to his ears, so tremendous was the din.

Just then he saw his own dragon-fly and beckoned to him; the dragon-fly came at once.  “What is all this?” began Bevis.

“My dear, how are you?” interrupted the dragon-fly.  “I am so busy,” and off he went again.

“Well I never!” said Bevis, getting excited like the rest, when the hare came across the path and stopped to speak to him.  “What is going on?” said Bevis.

“That is just what I want to know,” said the hare.  “Everybody says that somebody is going to do something, but what it is they do not themselves know.  There never was such a confusion, and, for aught we know, Choo Hoo may be here any minute, and there’s not a single regiment in position.”

“Dear me!” said Bevis, “why ever don’t they begin?”

“I cannot tell you,” said the hare.  “I don’t think anybody knows how:  and the fact is, they are all thinking about who shall be king, and intriguing for the sovereignty, when they should be thinking of their country, and providing for its defence.”

“And who is to be king?” said Bevis.  “The weasel shall not, that is certain; for I am just this very minute going to shoot into his hole!”

“It is no use to do that,” said the hare; “though I am very glad to hear you say that he shall not be king.  But it is no use shooting into his hole, for he is not there, nor anywhere in his old haunts, and we are all very suspicious as to what he is about.  I think you had better come and see the squirrel; he is in the raspberries, and the jay is there too, and there is an immense deal of talking going on.”

“So I will,” said Bevis; and he followed the hare to the raspberries (all the fruit was now gone), and found the squirrel, who advanced to welcome him, and the jay up in the oak.  Being hot with walking in the sun, Bevis sat down on the moss at the foot of the oak, and leaned back against the tree whose beautiful boughs cast so pleasant a shadow.  The hare came close to him on one side, and the squirrel the other, and the jay perched just overhead, and they all began to tell him the news at once.  Not able to understand what they meant while they were all speaking together, Bevis held up his hands and begged them to stop a minute, and then asked the squirrel to explain.

“So I will,” said the squirrel, “though I ought to be hiding my stores as fast as I can from the voracious host of barbarians, who will be here in a minute.  But what am I to do? for I cannot get anybody to help me — everybody is thinking about himself.”

“But the story — the story!” said Bevis; “tell me all about it.”

“Well, since I can do nothing,” said the squirrel, “I suppose I must, though there is not a great deal to tell.  You must know, then, that the news of Kapchack’s death got here in half-a-minute, for the missel-thrush came with it, and from here it was all over the country in less than an hour.  Everybody knew it except Ah Kurroo Khan and the victorious legions, and Choo Hoo and the flying enemy.  These were so busy, the one with slaughter, and the other with trying to escape, that they could not listen to what the swifts at once flew to tell them, but continued to fight and fly away till the evening, when the fragments of Choo Hoo’s army took refuge in the forest.  Even then they would not believe so extraordinary a circumstance, but regarded the account that had reached them as one of the rumours which always fly about at such times.  Choo Hoo continued to go from tree to tree deeper and deeper into the forest.

“Ah Kurroo Khan, calling off his legions, since nothing further could be done, drew his victorious army back to some isolated clumps and avenues, where they intended to make their camp for the night.  But in the course of an hour the rumours increased so much, and so many messengers arrived with the same intelligence and additional particulars, that Ah Kurroo Khan, dreading lest it should be true, sent out a squadron to ascertain the facts.

“Long before it could return, an envoy arrived from the council of the rooks themselves, with an order to Ah Kurroo Khan to retire at once, notwithstanding the lateness of the evening, and that the sun was sinking.

“With much disappointment (for he had hoped to continue the pursuit, and entirely exterminate the barbarians on the morrow), and not without forebodings as to his own fate, Ah Kurroo reluctantly communicated the order to his troops.  The wearied legions accordingly started on their homeward journey, slowly passing over the fields which had witnessed the conquest of the morning.  The sun had already sunk when their van reached the rooks’ city, and Ah Kurroo came to the front to deliver the report he had prepared upon his way.  As he approached the trees where the council of the rooks was sitting, in dark and ominous silence, an official stopped him, and informed him that he had been dismissed from the command, degraded from the rank he held, and the title of Khan taken from him.  He was to retire to a solitary tree at some distance, and consider himself under arrest.

“Thus they punished him for daring to move without their orders (even at the direct instance of the king), and thus was he rewarded for winning the greatest battle known to history.  The legions were immediately disbanded, and each individual ordered to his home.  Meantime, the news had at last reached Choo Hoo, but neither he, nor the fugitive host, could believe it, till there arrived some of the aliens who had dwelt with us, and who assured the barbarians that it was correct.  Directly afterwards, the intelligence was confirmed by the retreat of Ah Kurroo Khan.

“All that livelong night Choo Hoo, once more beginning to hope, flew to and fro from tree to tree, endeavouring to animate his host afresh with spirit for the fight; and as messengers continually came in with fresh particulars of the confusion in Kapchack’s kingdom, he began to succeed.  Early this morning, when the sun rose, the mystic syllables, ‘Koos-takke,’ resounded once more; the forest was alive, and echoed with the clattering of their wings, as the army drew together and re-formed its ranks.  The barbarians, easily moved by omens, saw in the extraordinary death of Kapchack the very hand of fate.  Once more they believed in their emperor; once more Choo Hoo advanced at their head.

“Not half-an-hour since a starling came in with the intelligence that Choo Hoo’s advanced guard had already reached his old camp.  We suppose the barbarians will halt there a little while for refreshment, and then move down upon us in a mass.  Would you believe it, instead of preparing for defence, the whole state is rent with faction and intrigue!  Yonder the council of the rooks, wise as they are, are indeed deliberating, having retired here for greater safety lest their discussion should be suddenly interrupted by the enemy; but the subject of this discussion is not how to defend the country, but what punishment they shall inflict upon Ah Kurroo.  There is a difference of opinion.  Some hold that the established penalty for his offence is to break his wings and hurl him helpless from the top of the tallest elm.  Some, more merciful, are for banishment, that he be outlawed, and compelled to build his nest and roost on an isolated tree, exposed to all the insults of the crows.  The older members of the council, great sticklers for tradition, maintain that the ancient and only adequate punishment is the hanging up of the offender by one leg to a dead and projecting branch, there to dangle and die of starvation, a terror to all such evil-doers.

“While they thus talk of torture the enemy is in sight, and their own army, it is more than whispered, is discontented and angry at the reception meted out to the victorious Khan.  But this, alas! is not all.

“So soon as ever Ki Ki was certain that Kapchack was really dead, he returned, and he has gathered to himself a crew of the most terrible ruffians you ever beheld.  He has got about him all the scum of the earth; all the blackguards, villains, vermin, cut-throat scoundrels have rallied to his standard; as the old proverb says:  ’Birds of a feather flock together’.  He has taken possession of the firs, yonder, on the slope (which are the property of my friend the jay), and which command my copse.  He has proclaimed himself king, and seeks to obtain confirmation of his title by terrorism.  Already he has twice sent forth his murderous banditti, who, scouring the fields, have committed fearful havoc upon defenceless creatures.  I am in dread every minute lest he should descend upon the copse itself, for he respects no law of earth or heaven.

“At the same time Kauc, the crow, has come forth in his true colours; he too has proclaimed himself king.  He has taken his stand in the trees by the Long Pond — you came close by them just now — they are scarce a quarter of a mile hence.  To our astonishment, he has got at least thrice as many retainers as he is entered to have in the roll which was read before Kapchack.  He had reckoned, it seems, upon the assistance of Cloctaw, of St. Paul’s, who has great influence among the jackdaws.  Cloctaw, however, avoided him and came hither, and Kauc vows he will destroy him.

“I know not which is most formidable, the violent Ki Ki or the ruthless Kauc.  The latter, I feel sure, is only waiting till he sees an opening to rush in and slaughter us.  There is not a generous sentiment in his breast; he would not spare the fledgling in the nest.  Between these two, one on either hand, we are indeed in a fearful predicament; Choo Hoo is to be preferred to them.

“Whether Raoul, the rat, intends to strike a blow for the throne, I know not; he is here; he bears an evil character, but for myself I like him far better than Kauc or Ki Ki.  The fox is, of course, out of the question.  But my great fear is the weasel; should he obtain the throne which of us will be safe?  By night as well as by day we shall be decimated.  His Machiavellian schemes, indeed, have thus far gone astray, and although he could arrange for everything, he could not foresee his own illness.  Yet, though lying by now with a broken rib and other injuries, I have not the least doubt he is weaving new webs and preparing fresh deceptions.  Thus, while the invader threatens us hourly, the kingdom of Kapchack is torn to pieces with the dissensions of those who should defend it.”

“But why does not Prince Tchack-tchack take the throne and be king?” said Bevis.  “He is the heir; he is Kapchack’s son.”

“So he ought,” said the squirrel; “but the truth is, people are weary of the rule of the magpies; nor is this young and flighty prince capable of taking up the reins of state.  He is vain, and dissipated, and uncertain — no one can depend upon him.  And besides, even if they could, have you not heard the extraordinary secret he has let out, like the great lout he is, and of which everybody is talking?”

“No,” said Bevis; “I have heard nothing — how should I?  I have only just got here.  What is the secret?  Tell me the secret this minute.”

“To think,” said the jay, “that we should have been so long deceived.  But I had my suspicions.”

“I cannot say I suspected anything,” said the hare; “but I remember Kauc did make a very curious remark on one occasion; he was always looking askew into things and places that did not concern him, so that I did not much heed, especially as he had started slanders about me.”

“Well,” said the jay, “the truth is, my wife — she is, you know, the most beautiful creature in the world, and quite turned the head of the late monarch — told me that she all along had her ideas; and Kapchack himself indeed told her in confidence that he was not so old as he looked, being jealous of the youth of Tchack-tchack, who objected to having his eye pecked out, and his feathers ruffled, as if he had any claims to be handsome;” and the jay surveyed his own bright feathers with pride.

“You stupids!” said Bevis, “what is the use of talking in that way?  I want to know the secret.”

“There is no secret,” said the jay; “and I am not stupid.  How can there be a secret, when everybody knows it?”

“Hush! hush!” said the hare, trying to make peace; “do not let us quarrel, at all events, if all the rest do.”

“No,” said the squirrel; “certainly not.”

“Certainly not,” repeated the jay.

“Well, what is it, then?” said Bevis, still frowning.

“The fact is,” said the squirrel, “Tchack-tchack has babbled out the great state secret.  I myself knew a little of it previously, having overheard the crow muttering to himself — as Ulu said, he peers into things that do not concern him.  And, if you remember, Bevis, I was in a great fright one day when I nearly let it out myself.  Now Prince Tchack-tchack, finding that he could not get the crown, has babbled everything in his rage, and the beautiful jay has told us many things that prove it to be true.  It now turns out that Kapchack was not Kapchack at all.”

“Not Kapchack!” said Bevis.  “How could Kapchack not be Kapchack, when he was Kapchack?”

“Kapchack could not be Kapchack,” said the squirrel, “because he never was Kapchack.”

“Then who was Kapchack?” said Bevis, in amazement.

“Well, he was not who he was,” said the squirrel; “and I will tell you why it was that he was not, if you will listen, and not keep interrupting, and asking questions.  The reed once told you how stupid it is to ask questions; you would understand everything very well, if you did not trouble to make inquiries.  The king who is just dead, and who was called Kapchack, was not Kapchack, because the real old original Kapchack died forty years ago.”

“What?” said Bevis.

“Extraordinary!” said the jay.

“Extraordinary!” said the hare.

“But true,” said the squirrel.  “The real old original Kapchack, the cleverest, cunningest, most consummate schemer who ever lived, who built the palace in the orchard, and who played such fantastic freaks before the loving couple, who won their hearts, and stole their locket and separated them for ever (thinking that would serve his purpose best, since if they married they would forget him, and have other things to think about, while if they were apart he should be regarded as a sacred souvenir), this marvellous genius, the founder of so illustrious a family, whose dominion stretched from here to the sea — I tell you that this Kapchack, the real old original one, died forty years ago.

“But before he died, being so extremely cunning, he made provision for the continuation of himself in this way.  He reflected that he was very old, and that a good deal of the dignity he enjoyed was due to that fact.  The owner of the orchard and warden of his fortress regarded him with so much affection, because in his youth he had capered before the young lady whom he loved.  It was not possible for the old gentleman to transfer this affection to a young and giddy magpie, who had not seen any of these former things.  Nor, looking outside the orchard wall, was it probable that the extensive kingdom he himself enjoyed would pass under the sway of a youthful prince in its entirety.

“Some of the nobles would be nearly certain to revolt:  the empire he had formed with so much labour, ingenuity, and risk, would fall to pieces, the life of one ruler not being sufficiently long to consolidate it.  The old king, therefore, as he felt the years pressing heavy upon him, cast about in his mind for some means of securing his dynasty.

“After long cogitation one day he called to him his son and heir, a very handsome young fellow, much like the Tchack-tchack whom we know, and motioning him to come close, as if about to whisper in his ear, suddenly pecked out his left eye.  The vain young prince suffered not only from the physical pain, but the intense mortification of knowing that his beauty was destroyed for ever.  If he wanted even to look at himself in the pond, before he could see his own reflection, he had to turn his head upon one side.  He bitterly upbraided his unnatural father for this cruel deed:  the queen joined in the reproaches, and the palace resounded with rage and lamentation.

“Old King Kapchack the First bore all this disturbance with equanimity, sustained by the conviction that he had acted for the welfare of the royal house he had founded.  After a time, when the young one-eyed prince ceased to complain, and was only sullen, he seized an opportunity when they were alone in the apple-tree, and explained to him the reason why he had done it.

“‘I,’ said he, ’I have founded this house, and through me you are regarded everywhere as of royal dignity; but if I were gone, the wicked and traitorous world which surrounds the throne would certainly begin to conspire against you on account of your youth; nor would the warden of this orchard take any interest or defend you, as you were not the witness of the caresses bestowed upon him by his young lady.  If you look at me, you will see that a wound, received in the wars which I waged long since, extinguished my left eye.  You will also see that my tail is not, to say the least, either so glossy or so ample as of yore, and my neck and temples are somewhat bare, partly because in those wars I received divers swashing blows upon my head, and partly because of my increasing age.’

“The prince looked at him, and remarked that he certainly was a draggled old scarecrow.  Not the least annoyed by this unfilial expression, the old king proceeded to show his heir how, in order for him, first, to retain the kingdom, and secondly, to keep the interest of the old gentleman owner of the orchard, it was necessary for him to present the same appearance as Kapchack himself did.  ‘In short,’ said he, ’when I die you must be ready to take my place, and to look exactly like me.’  The prince began to see the point, and even to admire the cunning of his father, but still he could not forgive the loss of his eye.

“‘Ah!’ said Kapchack I., ’you see I was obliged to take you upon the hop, otherwise it would never have been accomplished; no persuasion could have induced you to submit to such a deprivation, and, now I am about it, let me advise you, indeed, strictly enjoin upon you, when it becomes your turn, and you, too, are old and failing, to do the same as I did.  Do not tell your son and heir what you are going to do, or depend upon it he will slip aside and avoid you; but do it first.  And now, since you have already so far the same bleared aspect as myself, you will feel no difficulty in submitting to certain curtailments behind, and to the depilation of your head and neck.’

“Well, the result was, that the prince, full of ambition, and determined to rule at any price, in the end submitted to these disfigurations; the only thing he groaned over was the fear that none of the young lady magpies would now have anything to say to him.

“‘My dear and most dutiful son,’ said the old king, greatly pleased at the changed attitude of his heir, ’I assure you that you will not experience any loss of attention upon that score.  It is in early youth indeed a very prevalent mistake for gaudy young fellows (as you appeared the other day) to imagine that it is the gloss of their feathers, the brilliance of their eyes, and the carriage of their manly forms that obtains for them the smiles and favours of the fair.  But, believe me, this gratifying idea is not founded on fact; it is not the glossy feather, or the manly form, my son, it is the wealth that you possess, and even more than that, the social dignity and rank, which is already yours, that has brought a circle of charming darlings around you.

“’It is certainly somewhat mortifying to feel that it is not ourselves they care for, but merely the gratification of their own vanity.  Of course you must bury this profound secret in your own breast.  But if you ponder over what I have said you will soon see how you can use this knowledge to your own advantage.  And it will at least save you from the folly of really falling in love, than which, my most dutiful son, there is no disease so terrible, and so lasting in its effects, as witness that drivelling fool who keeps this orchard for us, and surrounds our palace as with an impregnable fortification.  Believe me, notwithstanding your now antique appearance — except at very close quarters, and without close examination (I don’t think you have quite as many crow’s-feet round your cyclopean eye as myself), it is not possible to distinguish you from me — believe me, in spite of this, the circle of charming darlings, reflecting that you are the heir to the greatest crown in the universe, will discover that you are even more attractive than before.’

“The prince in a day or two found that the old king was right, and recovered much of his former spirit.  As for the old king, having provided for his dynasty, and feeling certain that his royal house would now endure, he feasted and laughed, and cracked the oddest jokes you ever heard.  One afternoon, after spending the whole time in this way, he recollected that he had not yet informed his heir of one important secret, namely, the entrance to his treasure house.

“This was a chink, covered over with an excrescence of the bark, in the aged apple-tree, at the juncture of a large bough (the very bough that was lately cracked by the hurricane), and it was here that he had accumulated the spoils of the many expeditions he had undertaken, the loot of provinces and the valuable property he had appropriated nearer home, including the diamond locket.  So cunningly had he chosen his treasure vault that not one of all his courtiers, not even his queens, could ever discover it, though they were all filled with the most intense desire and burning cupidity.  The monarch thoroughly enjoyed the jest, for all the time they were sitting right over it, and that was, no doubt, why they could not see it, being under their feet.  Well, the old king recollected that afternoon that he had not communicated the secret to his heir, and decided that the time had come when it was necessary to do so.  He therefore gave out that he felt sleepy after so much feasting, and desired his friends to leave him alone for a while, all except the missel-thrush (not the present, of course, but his ancestor).

“Accordingly they all flew away to flirt in the copse, and so soon as the court was clear the king told the missel-thrush to go and send his son to him, as he had something of importance to communicate in private.  The missel-thrush did as he was bid, and in about half-an-hour the young prince approached the palace.  But when he came near he saw that the king, overcome perhaps by too much feasting, had dozed off into slumber.  As it was a rule in the palace that the monarch must never be awakened, the prince perched silently close by.

“Now, while he was thus sitting waiting for the king to wake up, as he watched him it occurred to him that if any one came by — as the warden of the orchard and — saw the two magpies up in the tree, he would wonder which was which.  Instead of one old Kapchack, lo! there would be two antique Kapchacks.

“Thought the prince:  ’The king is very clever, exceedingly clever, but it seems to me that he has overreached himself.  For certainly, if it is discovered that there are two old ones about, inquiries will be made, and a difficulty will arise, and it is not at all unlikely that one of us will be shot.  It seems to me that the old fellow has lived a little too long, and that his wits are departing (here he gave a quiet hop closer), and gone with his feathers, and it is about time I succeeded to the throne. (Another hop closer.) In an empire like this, so recently founded, the sceptre must be held in vigorous claws, and upon the whole, as there is no one about — ’ He gave a most tremendous peck upon the poor old king’s head, and Kapchack fell to the ground, out of the tree, stone dead upon the grass.

“The prince turned his head upon one side, and looked down upon him; then he quietly hopped into his place, shut his eye, and dozed off to sleep.  By-and-by the courtiers ventured back by twos and threes, and gathered on the tree, respectfully waiting till he should awake, and nodding, and winking, and whispering to each other about the body in the grass.  Presently his royal highness woke up, yawned, complained that the gout grew worse as he got older, and asked for the prince, who had been sitting by him just now.  Then looking round and seeing that all were a little constrained in their manner, he glanced in the same direction they did, and exclaimed that there was his poor son and heir lying in the grass!

“With great lamentation he had the body laid out in state, and called in the court physicians to examine how the prince (for so he persisted in calling the dead monarch) came by his fate.  Now, there was no disguising the fact that the deceased had been most foully murdered, for his skull was driven in by the force of the blow; but you see those were dangerous times, and with a despotic king eyeing them all the while, what could the physicians do?  They discovered that there was a small projecting branch which had been broken off half-way down the tree and which had a sharp edge, or splinter, and that this splinter precisely fitted the wound in the head.  Without doubt the prince had been seized with sudden illness, had fallen and struck his head against the splinter.  It was ordered that this bough should be at once removed.  Kapchack raised a great lamentation, as he had lost his son and heir, and in that character the dead monarch was ceremoniously interred in the royal vaults, which are in the drain the hunted hare took refuge in under the orchard.

“And so complete was the resemblance the prince bore to his dead parent, owing to the loss of his eye and the plucking of his feathers, that for the most part the courtiers actually believed that it really was the prince they had buried, and all the common people accepted it without doubt.  One or two who hinted at a suspicion when they were alone with Kapchack the Second received promises of vast rewards to hold their tongues; and no sooner had they left his presence than he had them assassinated.  Thus the dynasty was firmly consolidated, just as the dead founder had desired, though in rather a different manner to what he expected.

“But the new (or as he appeared the old) king had not been many days on the throne when he remembered the immense treasure of which his parent had been possessed.  Sending every one away on one pretext and another, he searched the palace from attic to basement, peeped into all the drawers his father had used, turned over every document, sounded every wall, bored holes in the wainscot, ripped up the bark, and covered himself with dust in his furious endeavours to find it.  But though he did this twenty times, though he examined every hollow tree within ten miles, and peered into everything, forcing even the owl’s ancestor to expose certain skeletons that were in his cupboard, yet could he never find it.

“And all the while the greatest difficulty he encountered was to hold his tongue; he did not dare let out that he was looking for the treasure, because, of course, everybody thought that he was Kapchack, the same who had put it away.  He had to nip his tongue with his beak till it bled to compel himself by sheer pain to abstain from reviling his predecessor.  But it was no good, the treasure could not be found.  He gave out that all this searching was to discover an ancient deed or treaty by which he was entitled to a distant province.  As the deed could not be found (having never existed), he marched his army and took the province by force.  And, will you believe it, my friends, the fact is that from that time to this (till the hurricane broke the bough the other day) none of the King Kapchacks have had the least idea where their treasure was.  They have lived upon credit.

“Everybody knew there was a treasure, and as time went on and new generations arose, it became magnified as the tale was handed down, till only lately, as you know, the whole world considered that Kapchack possessed wealth the like of which had never been seen.  Thus it happened that as each succeeding Kapchack got farther and farther away from the reality and lost all trace of the secret, the fame of these riches increased.  But to return.  In course of years this Kapchack also found himself growing old, and it became his turn to prepare a son and heir for the throne by pecking out his left eye, and denuding him of his tail feathers.  I need not go into further details; suffice it to say the thing was managed, and although the old fellows well knew their danger and took all sorts of precautions, the princes thus mutilated always contrived to assassinate their parents, and thus that apple-tree has been the theatre of the most awful series of tragedies the earth has ever known.

“Down to the last King Kapchack, the thing was always managed successfully, and he was the sixth who had kept up the deception.  But the number six seems in some way fatal to kings, the sixth always gets into trouble, and Kapchack VI. proved very unfortunate.  For in his time, as you know, Choo Hoo arose, the kingdom was invaded, and quite half of it taken from him.  Whether he shrank from the risk attending the initiation of Prince Tchack-tchack (his heir) I do not know, but for some reason or other he put it off from time to time, till the prince in fact grew rather too old himself, and too cunning, and getting about with disreputable companions — that gross old villain Kauc, the crow, for one — it is just possible that some inkling of the hereditary mutilation in store for him was insinuated (for his own purposes) by that vile wretch.

“Still, most likely, even if he had known of it he would have come in time to submit (so powerful a motive is ambition) rather than lose the crown, had not it happened that both he and Kapchack fell violently in love with the beautiful young jay, La Schach.  Very naturally and very excusably, being so young and so beautiful, she was perhaps just a little capricious.  Jealous to the last degree, old King Kapchack told her the secret, and that he really was not nearly so old as the world believed him to be — he was the sixth of the race, and not the original antiquity.  No doubt the beauty laughed in her sleeve at him, and just for fun told Tchack-tchack all about it, and that she would never marry a one-eyed bird.  Kapchack, full of jealousy, bethought him that it was high time to destroy his heir’s good looks, so he attempted to peck out his left eye in accordance with the usage of the house.

“But Tchack-tchack, having now learnt the secret, vain of his beauty, and determined to have the lovely jay at any cost, was alive to the trick, and eluded his parent.  This was the reason why Tchack-tchack towards the last would never go near the palace.  Thus it happened that the hereditary practice was not resorted to, for poor old Kapchack VI. fell, as you know, in the very hour of victory.  Tchack-tchack, who has both eyes, and the most glossy tail, and a form of the manliest beauty, is now at this minute chattering all round the copse in a terrible rage, and quite beside himself, because nobody will vote for him to be king, especially since through the breaking of the bough the vaunted treasure is at last revealed and found to consist of a diamond locket and one silver spoon — a hollow business you see — so that he has no money, while the beautiful jay has just been united to our friend here — and, goodness me, here she comes in a flutter!”