"If it should be," said the chief, "that you order me to go to my village as you have ordered Sato-Koto, I will go, since he who is my father is not pleased with me." "That I order," said Sanders; "also, twenty strokes with a stick, for the good of your soul. Furthermore, I would have you remember that down by Tembeli on the great river there is a village where men labour in chains because they have been unfaithful to the Government and have practised abominations." So the chief of the Akasava people went out to punishment. There were other matters requiring adjustment, but they were of a minor character, and when these were all settled to the satisfaction of Sanders, but by no means to the satisfaction of the subjects, the Commissioner turned his attention to the further education of the king. "Peter," he said, "to-morrow when the sun comes up I go back to my own village, leaving you without councillors." "Master, how may I do without councillors, since I am a young boy?" asked the king, crestfallen and chastened. "By saying to yourself when a man calls for justice: 'If I were this man how should I desire the king's justice?'" The boy looked unhappy. "I am very young," he repeated; "and to-day there come many from outlying villages seeking redress against their enemies." "Very good," said Sanders. "To-day I will sit at the king's right hand and learn of his wisdom." The boy stood on one leg in his embarrassment, and eyed Sanders askance. There is a hillock behind the town. A worn path leads up to it, and a-top is a thatched hut without sides. From this hillock you see the broad river with its sandy shoals, where the crocodiles sleep with open mouth; you see the rising ground toward Akasava, hills that rise one on top of the other, covered with a tangle of vivid green. In this house sits the king in judgment, beckoning the litigants forward. Sato-Koto was wont to stand by the king, bartering justice. To-day Sato-Koto was preparing to depart and Sanders sat by the king's side. There were indeed many litigants. There was a man who had bought a wife, giving no less than a thousand rods and two bags of salt for her. He had lived for three months with her, when she departed from his house. "Because," said the man philosophically, "she had a lover. Therefore, Mighty Sun of Wisdom, I desire the return of my rods and my salt." "What say you?" said Sanders. The king wriggled uncomfortably. "What says the father?" he said hesitatingly, and Sanders nodded. "That is a wise question," he approved, and called the father, a voluble and an eager old man. "Now, king," he said hurriedly, "I sold this woman, my daughter; how might I know her mind? Surely I fulfil my contract when the woman goes to the man. How shall a father control when a husband fails?" Sanders looked at the king again, and the boy drew a long breath.