tiful windows around the sides. Within sat the Rajah robed in wonderful colored silks and sparkling jewels.
Rhamon counted the oarsmen on the side of the boat nearest him. There were twenty-five of them! And he knew there were twenty-five on the other side, too. All were dressed in gorgeous scarlet uniforms. As they rowed, the oars on each side moved together like the wings of a great bird, now flashing in the sunlight, now dipping into the water.
"My!" thought Rhamon. "I would like to be one of those oarsmen. Someday I will be the head oarsman, like that one who is telling the others what to do. Then I shall take the great Rajah for a ride on the lake, for I will be the best oarsman in all of Kashmir."
Suddenly Rhamon noticed two men in a small shikara weaving their way among the closely packed boats on the river. He sat up with a start. Surely he remembered those faces. The two men who had stolen the garden! Tugging
