He was the man.
Solid, sober, clear-headed.

So, as Queen Humeeda was being hurriedly wrapped in a shawl by the two weeping nurses, he gave them a few directions.

They were to stay where they were, no matter what happened, until Foster-father returned from showing the fugitives a path he knew to the mountains, and then---- King Humayon could say no more.

Only as, after a hurried, tearless, hopeless farewell to his little son, he paused at the tent door to take a last look, his half-fainting wife in his arms, he said suddenly in a sharp, loud voice: "Remember! In your charge lies the safety of the Heir-to-Empire." The words sank into the very hearts of those who stood watching the group of hurrying figures making its way rapidly toward the hills.
"Pray Heaven," muttered Old Faithful anxiously, "that they be over the rise before those who follow see them." So they stood fearfully watching, watching.

And Heaven was kind, for though one great blue blaze of lightning showed the fugitives clear against the sky line, when the next came there was nothing but the rugged rocks.
Then for the first time Baby Akbar, who had been silent in his nurses' arms, watching with the rest, lifted up his deep-toned baby voice: "Daddy, Amma," he said contentedly, "gone up in a 'ky." Whereupon Foster-mother wept loudly and prayed that good angels might protect her darling.
But Head-nurse was more practical, and set about considering how best that safety might be secured.