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Beverly of Graustark

by George Barr McCutcheon · English · Gutenberg #6801 · 500,841 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Beverly of Graustark

Author: George Barr McCutcheon


        
Release date: November 1, 2004 [eBook #6801]
                Most recently updated: April 11, 2013

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEVERLY OF GRAUSTARK ***




Produced by Jonathan Ferro, Charles Franks and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team.











BEVERLY OF GRAUSTARK

BY GEORGE BARR McCUTCHEON




CONTENTS


  I       East of the Setting Sun
  II      Beverly Calhoun
  III     On the Road from Balak
  IV      The Ragged Retinue
  V       The Inn of the Hawk and Raven
  VI      The Home of the Lion
  VII     Some Facts and Fancies
  VIII    Through the Ganlook Gates
  IX      The Redoubtable Dangloss
  X       Inside the Castle Walls
  XI      The Royal Coach of Graustark
  XII     In Service
  XIII    The Three Princes
  XIV     A Visit and Its Consequences
  XV      The Testing of Baldos
  XVI     On the Way to St. Valentine's
  XVII    A Note Translated
  XVIII   Confessions and Concessions
  XIX     The Night Fires
  XX      Gossip of Some Consequence
  XXI     The Rose
  XXII    A Proposal
  XXIII   A Shot in the Darkness
  XXIV    Beneath the Ground
  XXV     The Valor of the South
  XXVI    The Degradation of Marlanx
  XXVII   The Prince of Dawsbergen
  XXVIII  A Boy Disappears
  XXIX    The Capture of Gabriel
  XXX     In the Grotto
  XXXI    Clear Skies






BEVERLY OF GRAUSTARK




CHAPTER I

EAST OF THE SETTING SUN


Far off in the mountain lands, somewhere to the east of the setting sun,
lies the principality of Graustark, serene relic of rare old feudal
days. The traveler reaches the little domain after an arduous, sometimes
perilous journey from the great European capitals, whether they be north
or south or west--never east. He crosses great rivers and wide plains;
he winds through fertile valleys and over barren plateaus; he twists and
turns and climbs among sombre gorges and rugged mountains; he touches
the cold clouds in one day and the placid warmth of the valley in the
next. One does not go to Graustark for a pleasure jaunt. It is too far
from the rest of the world and the ways are often dangerous because of
the strife among the tribes of the intervening mountains. If one hungers
for excitement and peril he finds it in the journey from the north or
the south into the land of the Graustarkians. From Vienna and other
places almost directly west the way is not so full of thrills, for the
railroad skirts the darkest of the dangerlands.

Once in the heart of Graustark, however, the traveler is charmed into
dreams of peace and happiness and--paradise. The peasants and the poets
sing in one voice and accord, their psalm being of never-ending
love. Down in the lowlands and up in the hills, the simple worker of the
soil rejoices that he lives in Graustark; in the towns and villages the
humble merchant and his thrifty customer unite to sing the song of peace
and contentment; in the palaces of the noble the same patriotism warms
its heart with thoughts of Graustark, the ancient. Prince and pauper
strike hands for the love of the land, while outside the great,
heartless world goes rumbling on without a thought of the rare little
principality among the eastern mountains.

In point of area, Graustark is but a mite in the great galaxy of
nations. Glancing over the map of the world, one is almost sure to miss
the infinitesimal patch of green that marks its location. One could not
be blamed if he regarded the spot as a typographical or topographical
illusion. Yet the people of this quaint little land hold in their hearts
a love and a confidence that is not surpassed by any of the lordly
monarchs who measure their patriotism by miles and millions. The
Graustarkians are a sturdy, courageous race. From the faraway century
when they fought themselves clear of the Tartar yoke, to this very hour,
they have been warriors of might and valor. The boundaries of their tiny
domain were kept inviolate for hundreds of years, and but one victorious
foe had come down to lay siege to Edelweiss, the capital. Axphain, a
powerful principality in the north, had conquered Graustark in the
latter part of the nineteenth century, but only after a bitter war in
which starvation and famine proved far more destructive than the arms of
the victors. The treaty of peace and the indemnity that fell to the lot
of vanquished Graustark have been discoursed upon at length in at least
one history.

Those who have followed that history must know, of course, that the
reigning princess, Yetive, was married to a young American at the very
tag-end of the nineteenth century. This admirable couple met in quite
romantic fashion while the young sovereign was traveling incognito
through the United States of America. The American, a splendid fellow
named Lorry, was so persistent in the subsequent attack upon her heart,
that all ancestral prejudices were swept away and she became his bride
with the full consent of her entranced subjects. The manner in which he
wooed and won this young and adorable ruler forms a very attractive
chapter in romance, although unmentioned in history. This being the tale
of another day, it is not timely to dwell upon the interesting events
which led up to the marriage of the Princess Yetive to Grenfall
Lorry. Suffice it to say that Lorry won his bride against all wishes and
odds and at the same time won an endless love and esteem from the people
of the little kingdom among the eastern hills Two years have passed
since that notable wedding in Edelweiss.

Lorry and his wife, the princess, made their home in Washington, but
spent a few months of each year in Edelweiss. During the periods spent
in Washington and in travel, her affairs in Graustark were in the hands
of a capable, austere old diplomat--her uncle, Count Caspar
Halfont. Princess Volga reigned as regent over the principality of
Axphain. To the south lay the principality of Dawsbergen, ruled by young
Prince Dantan, whose half brother, the deposed Prince Gabriel, had been
for two years a prisoner in Graustark, the convicted assassin of Prince
Lorenz, of Axphain, one time suitor for the hand of Yetive.

It was after the second visit of the Lorrys to Edelweiss that a serious
turn of affairs presented itself. Gabriel had succeeded in escaping from
his dungeon. His friends in Dawsbergen stirred up a revolution and
Dantan was driven from the throne at Serros. On the arrival of Gabriel
at the capital, the army of Dawsbergen espoused the cause of the Prince
it had spurned and, three days after his escape, he was on his throne,
defying Yetive and offering a price for the head of the unfortunate
Dantan, now a fugitive in the hills along the Graustark frontier.




CHAPTER II

BEVERLY CALHOUN


Major George Calhoun was a member of Congress from one of the southern
states. His forefathers had represented the same commonwealth, and so,
it was likely, would his descendants, if there is virtue in the fitness
of things and the heredity of love. While intrepid frontiersmen were
opening the trails through the fertile wilds west of the Alleghanies, a
strong branch of the Calhoun family followed close in their
footsteps. The major's great-grandfather saw the glories and the
possibilities of the new territory. He struck boldly westward from the
old revolutionary grounds, abandoning the luxuries and traditions of the
Carolinas for a fresh, wild life of promise. His sons and daughters
became solid stones in the foundation of a commonwealth, and his
grandchildren are still at work on the structure. State and national
legislatures had known the Calhouns from the beginning. Battlefields had
tested their valor, and drawing-rooms had proved their gentility.

Major Calhoun had fought with Stonewall Jackson and won his spurs--and
at the same time the heart and hand of Betty Haswell, the staunchest
Confederate who ever made flags, bandages and prayers for the boys in
gray. When the reconstruction came he went to Congress and later on
became prominent in the United States consular service, for years
holding an important European post. Congress claimed him once more in
the early '90s, and there he is at this very time.

Everybody in Washington's social and diplomatic circles admired the
beautiful Beverly Calhoun. According to his own loving term of
identification, she was the major's "youngest." The fair southerner had
seen two seasons in the nation's capital. Cupid, standing directly in
front of her, had shot his darts ruthlessly and resistlessly into the
passing hosts, and masculine Washington looked humbly to her for the
balm that might soothe its pains. The wily god of love was fair enough
to protect the girl whom he forced to be his unwilling, perhaps
unconscious, ally. He held his impenetrable shield between her heart and
the assaults of a whole army of suitors, high and low, great and
small. It was not idle rumor that said she had declined a coronet or
two, that the millions of more than one American Midas had been offered
to her, and that she had dealt gently but firmly with a score of hearts
which had nothing but love, ambition and poverty to support them in the
conflict.

The Calhouns lived in a handsome home not far from the residence of
Mr. and Mrs. Grenfall Lorry. It seemed but natural that the two
beautiful young women should become constant and loyal friends. Women as
lovely as they have no reason to be jealous. It is only the woman who
does not feel secure of her personal charms that cultivates envy. At the
home of Graustark's princess Beverly met the dukes and barons from the
far east; it was in the warmth of the Calhoun hospitality that Yetive
formed her dearest love for the American people.

Miss Beverly was neither tall nor short. She was of that divine and
indefinite height known as medium; slender but perfectly molded; strong
but graceful, an absolutely healthy young person whose beauty knew well
how to take care of itself. Being quite heart-whole and fancy-free, she
slept well, ate well, and enjoyed every minute of life. In her blood ran
the warm, eager impulses of the south; hereditary love of case and
luxury displayed itself in every emotion; the perfectly normal demand
upon men's admiration was as characteristic in her as it is in any
daughter of the land whose women are born to expect chivalry and homage.

A couple of years in a New York "finishing school" for young ladies had
served greatly to modify Miss Calhoun's colloquial charms. Many of her
delightful "way down south" phrases and mannerisms were blighted by the
cold, unromantic atmosphere of a seminary conducted by two ladies from
Boston who were too old to marry, too penurious to love and too prim to
think that other women might care to do both. There were times,
however,--if she were excited or enthusiastic,--when pretty Beverly so
far forgot her training as to break forth with a very attractive "yo'
all," "suah 'nough," or "go 'long naow." And when the bands played
"Dixie" she was not afraid to stand up and wave her handkerchief. The
northerner who happened to be with her on such occasions usually found
himself doing likewise before he could escape the infection.

Miss Calhoun's face was one that painters coveted deep down in their
artistic souls. It never knew a dull instant; there was expression in
every lineament, in every look; life, genuine life, dwelt in the mobile
countenance that turned the head of every man and woman who looked upon
it. Her hair was dark-brown and abundant; her eyes were a deep gray and
looked eagerly from between long lashes of black; her lips were red and
ever willing to smile or turn plaintive as occasion required; her brow
was broad and fair, and her frown was as dangerous as a smile. As to her
age, if the major admitted, somewhat indiscreetly, that all his children
were old enough to vote, her mother, with the reluctance born in women,
confessed that she was past twenty, so a year or two either way will
determine Miss Beverly's age, so far as the telling of this story is
concerned. Her eldest brother--Keith Calhoun (the one with the
congressional heritage)--thought she was too young to marry, while her
second brother, Dan, held that she soon would be too old to attract men
with matrimonial intentions. Lucy, the only sister, having been happily
wedded for ten years, advised her not to think of marriage until she was
old enough to know her own mind.

Toward the close of one of the most brilliant seasons the Capital had
ever known, less than a fortnight before Congress was to adjourn, the
wife of Grenfall Lorry received the news which spread gloomy
disappointment over the entire social realm. A dozen receptions, teas
and balls were destined to lose their richest attraction, and hostesses
were in despair. The princess had been called to Graustark.

Beverly Calhoun was miserably unhappy. She had heard the story of
Gabriel's escape and the consequent probability of a conflict with
Axphain. It did not require a great stretch of imagination to convince
her that the Lorrys were hurrying off to scenes of intrigue, strife and
bloodshed, and that not only Graustark but its princess was in jeopardy.

Miss Calhoun's most cherished hopes faded with the announcement that
trouble, not pleasure, called Yetive to Edelweiss. It had been their
plan that Beverly should spend the delightful summer months in
Graustark, a guest at the royal palace. The original arrangements of the
Lorrys were hopelessly disturbed by the late news from Count
Halfont. They were obliged to leave Washington two months earlier than
they intended, and they could not take Beverly Calhoun into
danger-ridden Graustark. The contemplated visit to St. Petersburg and
other pleasures had to be abandoned, and they were in tears.

Yetive's maids were packing the trunks, and Lorry's servants were in a
wild state of haste preparing for the departure on Saturday's ship. On
Friday afternoon, Beverly was naturally where she could do the most good
and be of the least help--at the Lorrys'. Self-confessedly, she delayed
the preparations. Respectful maidservants and respectful menservants
came often to the princess's boudoir to ask questions, and Beverly just
as frequently made tearful resolutions to leave the household in
peace--if such a hullaballoo could be called peace. Callers came by the
dozen, but Yetive would see no one. Letters, telegrams and telephone
calls almost swamped her secretary; the footman and the butler fairly
gasped under the strain of excitement. Through it all the two friends
sat despondent and alone in the drear room that once had been the abode
of pure delight. Grenfall Lorry was off in town closing up all matters
of business that could be despatched at once. The princess and her
industrious retinue were to take the evening express for New York and
the next day would find them at sea.

"I know I shall cry all summer," vowed Miss Calhoun, with conviction in
her eyes. "It's just too awful for anything." She was lying back among
the cushions of the divan and her hat was the picture of cruel
neglect. For three solid hours she had stubbornly withstood Yetive's
appeals to remove her hat, insisting that she could not trust herself to
stay more than a minute or two. "It seems to me, Yetive, that your
jailers must be very incompetent or they wouldn't have let loose all
this trouble upon you," she complained.

"Prince Gabriel is the very essence of trouble," confessed Yetive,
plaintively. "He was born to annoy people, just like the evil prince in
the fairy tales."

"I wish we had him over here," the American girl answered stoutly. "He
wouldn't be such a trouble I'm sure. We don't let small troubles worry
us very long, you know."

"But he's dreadfully important over there, Beverly; that's the difficult
part of it," said Yetive, solemnly. "You see, he is a condemned
murderer."

"Then, you ought to hang him or electrocute him or whatever it is that
you do to murderers over there," promptly spoke Beverly.

"But, dear, you don't understand. He won't permit us either to hang or
to electrocute him, my dear. The situation is precisely the reverse, if
he is correctly quoted by my uncle. When Uncle Caspar sent an envoy to
inform Dawsbergen respectfully that Graustark would hold it personally
responsible if Gabriel were not surrendered, Gabriel himself replied:
'Graustark be hanged!'"

"How rude of him, especially when your uncle was so courteous about
it. He must be a very disagreeable person," announced Miss Calhoun.

"I am sure you wouldn't like him," said the princess. "His brother, who
has been driven from the throne--and from the capital, in fact--is quite
different. I have not seen him, but my ministers regard him as a
splendid young man."

"Oh, how I hope he may go back with his army and annihilate that old
Gabriel!" cried Beverly, frowning fiercely.

"Alas," sighed the princess, "he hasn't an army, and besides he is
finding it extremely difficult to keep from being annihilated
himself. The army has gone over to Prince Gabriel."

"Pooh!" scoffed Miss Calhoun, who was thinking of the enormous armies
the United States can produce at a day's notice. "What good is a
ridiculous little army like his, anyway? A battalion from Fort Thomas
could beat it to--"

"Don't boast, dear," interrupted Yetive, with a wan smile. "Dawsbergen
has a standing army of ten thousand excellent soldiers. With the war
reserves she has twice the available force I can produce."

"But your men are so brave," cried Beverly, who had heard their praises
sung.

"True, God bless them; but you forget that we must attack Gabriel in his
own territory. To recapture him means a perilous expedition into the
mountains of Dawsbergen, and I am sorely afraid. Oh, dear, I hope he'll
surrender peaceably!"

"And go back to jail for life?" cried Miss Calhoun. "It's a good deal to
expect of him, dear. I fancy it's much better fun kicking up a rumpus on
the outside than it is kicking one's toes off against an obdurate stone
wall from the inside. You can't blame him for fighting a bit."

"No--I suppose not," agreed the princess, miserably. "Gren is actually
happy over the miserable affair, Beverly. He is full of enthusiasm and
positively aching to be in Graustark--right in the thick of it all. To
hear him talk, one would think that Prince Gabriel has no show at
all. He kept me up till four o'clock this morning telling me that
Dawsbergen didn't know what kind of a snag it was going up against. I
have a vague idea what he means by that; his manner did not leave much
room for doubt. He also said that we would jolt Dawsbergen off the map.
It sounds encouraging, at least, doesn't it?"

"It sounds very funny for you to say those things," admitted Beverly,
"even though they come secondhand. You were not cut out for slang."

"Why, I'm sure they are all good English words," remonstrated
Yetive. "Oh, dear, I wonder what they are doing in Graustark this very
instant. Are they fighting or--"

"No; they are merely talking. Don't you know, dear, that there is never
a fight until both sides have talked themselves out of breath? We shall
have six months of talk and a week or two of fight, just as they always
do nowadays."

"Oh, you Americans have such a comfortable way of looking at things,"
cried the princess. "Don't you ever see the serious side of life?"

"My dear, the American always lets the other fellow see the serious side
of life," said Beverly.

"You wouldn't be so optimistic if a country much bigger and more
powerful than America happened to be the other fellow."

"It did sound frightfully boastful, didn't it? It's the way we've been
brought up, I reckon,--even we southerners who know what it is to be
whipped. The idea of a girl like me talking about war and trouble and
all that! It's absurd, isn't it?"

"Nevertheless, I wish I could see things through those dear gray eyes of
yours. Oh, how I'd like to have you with me through all the months that
are to come. You would be such a help to me--such a joy. Nothing would
seem so hard if you were there to make me see things through your brave
American eyes." The princess put her arms about Beverly's neck and drew
her close.

"But Mr. Lorry possesses an excellent pair of American eyes," protested
Miss Beverly, loyally and very happily.

"I know, dear, but they are a man's eyes. Somehow, there is a
difference, you know. I wouldn't dare cry when he was looking, but I
could boo-hoo all day if you were there to comfort me. He thinks I am
very brave--and I'm not," she confessed, dismally.

"Oh, I'm an awful coward," explained Beverly, consolingly. "I think you
are the bravest girl in all the world," she added. "Don't you remember
what you did at--" and then she recalled the stories that had come from
Graustark ahead of the bridal party two years before. Yetive was finally
obliged to place her hand on the enthusiastic visitor's lips.

"Peace," she cried, blushing. "You make me feel like a--a--what is it you
call her--a dime-novel heroine?"

"A yellow-back girl? Never!" exclaimed Beverly, severely.

Visitors of importance in administration circles came at this moment and
the princess could not refuse to see them. Beverly Calhoun reluctantly
departed, but not until after giving a promise to accompany the Lorrys
to the railway station.

       *       *        *       *        *

The trunks had gone to be checked, and the household was quieter than it
had been in many days. There was an air of depression about the place
that had its inception in the room upstairs where sober-faced Halkins
served dinner for a not over-talkative young couple.

"It will be all right, dearest," said Lorry, divining his wife's
thoughts as she sat staring rather soberly straight ahead of her, "Just
as soon as we get to Edelweiss, the whole affair will look so simple
that we can laugh at the fears of to-day. You see, we are a long way off
just now."

"I am only afraid of what may happen before we get there, Gren," she
said, simply. He leaned over and kissed her hand, smiling at the
emphasis she unconsciously placed on the pronoun.

Beverly Calhoun was announced just before coffee was served, and a
moment later was in the room. She stopped just inside the door, clicked
her little heels together and gravely brought her hand to "salute." Her
eyes were sparkling and her lips trembled with suppressed excitement.

"I think I can report to you in Edelweiss next month, general," she
announced, with soldierly dignity. Her hearers stared at the picturesque
recruit, and Halkins so far forgot himself as to drop Mr. Lorry's lump
of sugar upon the table instead of into the cup.

"Explain yourself, sergeant!" finally fell from Lorry's lips. The eyes
of the princess were beginning to take on a rapturous glow.

"May I have a cup of coffee, please, sir? I've been so excited I
couldn't eat a mouthful at home." She gracefully slid into the chair
Halkins offered, and broke into an ecstatic giggle that would have
resulted in a court-martial had she been serving any commander but Love.

With a plenteous supply of Southern idioms she succeeded in making them
understand that the major had promised to let her visit friends in the
legation at St. Petersburg in April a month or so after the departure of
the Lorrys.

"He wanted to know where I'd rather spend the Spring--Washin'ton or
Lexin'ton, and I told him St. Petersburg. We had a terrific discussion
and neither of us ate a speck at dinner. Mamma said it would be all
right for me to go to St. Petersburg if Aunt Josephine was still of a
mind to go, too. You see, Auntie was scared almost out of her boots when
she heard there was prospect of war in Graustark, just as though a tiny
little war like that could make any difference away up in
Russia--hundreds of thousands of miles away--" (with a scornful wave of
the hand)--"and then I just made Auntie say she'd go to St. Petersburg
in April--a whole month sooner than she expected to go in the first
place--and--"

"You dear, dear Beverly!" cried Yetive, rushing joyously around the
table to clasp her in her arms.

"And St. Petersburg really isn't a hundred thousand miles from
Edelweiss," cried Beverly, gaily.

"It's much less than that," said Lorry, smiling, "But you surely don't
expect to come to Edelweiss if we are fighting. We couldn't think of
letting you do that, you know. Your mother would never--"

"My mother wasn't afraid of a much bigger war than yours can ever hope
to be," cried Beverly, resentfully. "You can't stop me if I choose to
visit Graustark."

"Does your father know that you contemplate such a trip?" asked Lorry,
returning her handclasp and looking doubtfully into the swimming blue
eyes of his wife.

"No, he doesn't," admitted Beverly, a trifle aggressively.

"He could stop you, you know," he suggested. Yetive was discreetly
silent.

"But he won't know anything about it," cried Beverly triumphantly.

"I could tell him, you know," said Lorry.

"No, you _couldn't_ do anything so mean as that," announced
Beverly. "You're not that sort."




CHAPTER III

ON THE ROAD FROM BALAK


A ponderous coach lumbered slowly, almost painfully, along the narrow
road that skirted the base of a mountain. It was drawn by four horses,
and upon the seat sat two rough, unkempt Russians, one holding the
reins, the other lying back in a lazy doze. The month was June and all
the world seemed soft and sweet and joyous. To the right flowed a
turbulent mountain stream, boiling savagely with the alien waters of the
flood season. Ahead of the creaking coach rode four horsemen, all
heavily armed; another quartette followed some distance in the rear. At
the side of the coach an officer of the Russian mounted police was
riding easily, jangling his accoutrements with a vigor that disheartened
at least one occupant of the vehicle. The windows of the coach doors
were lowered, permitting the fresh mountain air to caress fondly the
face of the young woman who tried to find comfort in one of the broad
seats. Since early morn she had struggled with the hardships of that
seat, and the late afternoon found her very much out of patience. The
opposite seat was the resting place of a substantial colored woman and a
stupendous pile of bags and boxes. The boxes were continually toppling
over and the bags were forever getting under the feet of the once placid
servant, whose face, quite luckily, was much too black to reflect the
anger she was able, otherwise, through years of practice, to conceal.

"How much farther have we to go, lieutenant?" asked the girl on the
rear seat, plaintively, even humbly. The man was very deliberate with
his English. He had been recommended to her as the best linguist in the
service at Radovitch, and he had a reputation to sustain.

"It another hour is but yet," he managed to inform her, with a confident
smile.

"Oh, dear," she sighed, "a whole hour of this!"

"We soon be dar, Miss Bev'ly; jes' yo' mak' up yo' mine to res'
easy-like, an' we--" but the faithful old colored woman's advice was
lost in the wrathful exclamation that accompanied another dislodgment of
bags and boxes. The wheels of the coach had dropped suddenly into a deep
rut. Aunt Fanny's growls were scarcely more potent than poor Miss
Beverly's moans.

"It is getting worse and worse," exclaimed Aunt Fanny's mistress,
petulantly. "I'm black and blue from head to foot, aren't you, Aunt
Fanny?"

"Ah cain' say as to de blue, Miss Bev'ly. Hit's a mos' monstrous bad
road, sho 'nough. Stay up dar, will yo'!" she concluded, jamming a bag
into an upper corner.

Miss Calhoun, tourist extraordinary, again consulted the linguist in the
saddle. She knew at the outset that the quest would be hopeless, but she
could think of no better way to pass the next hour then to extract a
mite of information from the officer.

"Now for a good old chat," she said, beaming a smile upon the grizzled
Russian. "Is there a decent hotel in the village?" she asked.

They were on the edge of the village before she succeeded in finding out
all that she could, and it was not a great deal, either. She learned
that the town of Balak was in Axphain, scarcely a mile from the
Graustark line. There was an eating and sleeping house on the main
street, and the population of the place did not exceed three hundred.

When Miss Beverly awoke the next morning, sore and distressed, she
looked back upon the night with a horror that sleep had been kind enough
to interrupt only at intervals. The wretched hostelry lived long in her
secret catalogue of terrors. Her bed was not a bed; it was a
torture. The room, the table, the--but it was all too odious for
description. Fatigue was her only friend in that miserable hole. Aunt
Fanny had slept on the floor near her mistress's cot, and it was the
good old colored woman's grumbling that awoke Beverly. The sun was
climbing up the mountains in the east, and there was an air of general
activity about the place. Beverly's watch told her that it was past
eight o'clock.

"Good gracious!" she exclaimed. "It's nearly noon, Aunt Fanny. Hurry
along here and get me up. We must leave this abominable place in ten
minutes." She was up and racing about excitedly.

"Befo' breakfas'?" demanded Aunt Fanny weakly.

"Goodness, Aunt Fanny, is that all you think about?"

"Well, honey, yo' all be thinkin' moughty serious 'bout breakfas' 'long
to'ahds 'leben o'clock. Dat li'l tummy o' yourn 'll be pow'ful mad
'cause yo' didn'--"

"Very well, Aunt Fanny, you can run along and have the woman put up a
breakfast for us and we'll eat it on the road. I positively refuse to
eat another mouthful in that awful dining-room. I'll be down in ten
minutes."

She was down in less. Sleep, no matter how hard-earned, had revived her
spirits materially. She pronounced herself ready for anything; there was
a wholesome disdain for the rigors of the coming ride through the
mountains in the way she gave orders for the start. The Russian officer
met her just outside the entrance to the inn. He was less English than
ever, but he eventually gave her to understand that he had secured
permission to escort her as far as Ganlook, a town in Graustark not more
than fifteen miles from Edelweiss and at least two days from Balak. Two
competent Axphainian guides had been retained, and the party was quite
ready to start. He had been warned of the presence of brigands in the
wild mountainous passes north of Ganlook. The Russians could go no
farther than Ganlook because of a royal edict from Edelweiss forbidding
the nearer approach of armed forces. At that town, however, he was sure
she easily could obtain an escort of Graustarkian soldiers. As the big
coach crawled up the mountain road and further into the oppressive
solitudes, Beverly Calhoun drew from the difficult lieutenant
considerable information concerning the state of affairs in Graustark.
She had been eagerly awaiting the time when something definite could be
learned. Before leaving St. Petersburg early in the week she was assured
that a state of war did not exist. The Princess Yetive had been in
Edelweiss for six weeks. A formal demand was framed soon after her
return from America, requiring Dawsbergen to surrender the person of
Prince Gabriel to the authorities of Graustark. To this demand there was
no definite response, Dawsbergen insolently requesting time in which to
consider the proposition. Axphain immediately sent an envoy to Edelweiss
to say that all friendly relations between the two governments would
cease unless Graustark took vigorous steps to recapture the royal
assassin. On one side of the unhappy principality a strong, overbearing
princess was egging Graustark on to fight, while on the other side an
equally aggressive people defied Yetive to come and take the fugitive if
she could. The poor princess was between two ugly alternatives, and a
struggle seemed inevitable. At Balak it was learned that Axphain had
recently sent a final appeal to the government of Graustark, and it was
no secret that something like a threat accompanied the message.

Prince Gabriel was in complete control at Serros and was disposed to
laugh at the demands of his late captors. His half-brother, the
dethroned Prince Dantan, was still hiding in the fastnesses of the
hills, protected by a small company of nobles, and there was no hope
that he ever could regain his crown. Gabriel's power over the army was
supreme. The general public admired Dantan, but it was helpless in the
face of circumstances.

"But why should Axphain seek to harass Graustark at this time?" demanded
Beverly Calhoun, in perplexity and wrath. "I should think the brutes
would try to help her."

"There is an element of opposition to the course the government is
taking," the officer informed her in his own way, "but it is greatly in
the minority. The Axphainians have hated Graustark since the last war,
and the princess despises this American. It is an open fact that the
Duke of Mizrox leads the opposition to Princess Volga, and she is sure
to have him beheaded if the chance affords. He is friendly to Graustark
and has been against the policy of his princess from the start."

"I'd like to hug the Duke of Mizrox," cried Beverly, warmly. The officer
did not understand her, but Aunt Fanny was scandalized.

"Good Lawd!" she muttered to the boxes and bags.

As the coach rolled deeper and deeper into the rock-shadowed wilderness,
Beverly Calhoun felt an undeniable sensation of awe creeping over
her. The brave, impetuous girl had plunged gaily into the project which
now led her into the deadliest of uncertainties, with but little thought
of the consequences.

The first stage of the journey by coach had been good fun. They had
passed along pleasant roads, through quaint villages and among
interesting people, and progress had been rapid. The second stage had
presented rather terrifying prospects, and the third day promised even
greater vicissitudes. Looking from the coach windows out upon the quiet,
desolate grandeur of her surroundings, poor Beverly began to appreciate
how abjectly helpless and alone she was. Her companions were ugly,
vicious-looking men, any one of whom could inspire terror by a look. She
had entrusted herself to the care of these strange creatures in the
moment of inspired courage and now she was constrained to regret her
action. True, they had proved worthy protectors as far as they had gone,
but the very possibilities that lay in their power were appalling, now
that she had time to consider the situation.

The officer in charge had been recommended as a trusted servant of the
Czar; an American consul had secured the escort for her direct from the
frontier patrol authorities. Men high in power had vouched for the
integrity of the detachment, but all this was forgotten in the mighty
solitude of the mountains. She was beginning to fear her escort more
than she feared the brigands of the hills.

Treachery seemed printed on their backs as they rode ahead of her. The
big officer was ever polite and alert, but she was ready to distrust him
on the slightest excuse. These men could not help knowing that she was
rich, and it was reasonable for them to suspect that she carried money
and jewels with her. In her mind's eye she could picture these traitors
rifling her bags and boxes in some dark pass, and then there were other
horrors that almost petrified her when she allowed herself to think of
them.

Here and there the travelers passed by rude cots where dwelt woodmen and
mountaineers, and at long intervals a solitary but picturesque horseman
stood aside and gave them the road. As the coach penetrated deeper into
the gorge, signs of human life and activity became fewer. The sun could
not send his light into this shadowy tomb of granite. The rattle of the
wheels and the clatter of the horses' hoofs sounded like a constant
crash of thunder in the ears of the tender traveler, a dainty morsel
among hawks and wolves.

There was an unmistakable tremor in her voice when she at last found
heart to ask the officer where they were to spend the night. It was far
past noon and Aunt Fanny had suggested opening the lunch-baskets. One of
the guides was called back, the leader being as much in the dark as his
charge.

"There is no village within twenty miles," he said, "and we must sleep
in the pass."

Beverly's voice faltered. "Out here in all this awful--" Then she caught
herself quickly. It came to her suddenly that she must not let these men
see that she was apprehensive. Her voice was a trifle shrill and her
eyes glistened with a strange new light as she went on, changing her
tack completely: "How romantic! I've often wanted to do something like
this."

The officer looked bewildered, and said nothing. Aunt Fanny was
speechless. Later on, when the lieutenant had gone ahead to confer with
the guides about the suspicious actions of a small troop of horsemen
they had seen, Beverly confided to the old negress that she was
frightened almost out of her boots, but that she'd die before the men
should see a sign of cowardice in a Calhoun. Aunt Fanny was not so proud
and imperious. It was with difficulty that her high-strung young
mistress suppressed the wails that long had been under restraint in Aunt
Fanny's huge and turbulent bosom.

"Good Lawd, Miss Bev'ly, dey'll chop us all to pieces an' take ouah
jewl'ry an' money an' clo'es and ev'ything else we done got about
us. Good Lawd, le's tu'n back, Miss Bev'ly. We ain' got no mo' show out
heah in dese mountings dan a--"

"Be still, Aunt Fanny!" commanded Beverly, with a fine show of
courage. "You must be brave. Don't you see we can't turn back? It's just
as dangerous and a heap sight more so. If we let on we're not one bit
afraid they'll respect us, don't you see, and men never harm women whom
they respect."

"Umph!" grunted Aunt Fanny, with exaggerated irony.

"Well, they never do!" maintained Beverly, who was not at all sure about
it. "And they look like real nice men--honest men, even though they have
such awful whiskers."

"Dey's de wust trash Ah eveh did see," exploded Aunt Fanny.

"Sh! Don't let them hear you," whispered Beverly.

In spite of her terror and perplexity, she was compelled to smile. It
was all so like the farce comedies one sees at the theatre.

As the officer rode up, his face was pale in the shadowy light of the
afternoon and he was plainly nervous.

"What is the latest news from the front?" she inquired cheerfully.

"The men refuse to ride on," he exclaimed, speaking rapidly, making it
still harder for her to understand. "Our advance guard has met a party
of hunters from Axphain. They insist that you--'the fine lady in the
coach'--are the Princess Yetive, returning from a secret visit to
St. Petersburg, where you went to plead for assistance from the Czar."

Beverly Calhoun gasped in astonishment. It was too incredible to
believe. It was actually ludicrous. She laughed heartily. "How perfectly
absurd."

"I am well aware that you are not the Princess Yetive," he continued
emphatically; "but what can I do; the men won't believe me. They swear
they have been tricked and are panic-stricken over the situation. The
hunters tell them that the Axphain authorities, fully aware of the
hurried flight of the Princess through these wilds, are preparing to
intercept her. A large detachment of soldiers are already across the
Graustark frontier. It is only a question of time before the 'red legs'
will be upon them. I have assured them that their beautiful charge is
not the Princess, but an American girl, and that there is no mystery
about the coach and escort. All in vain. The Axphain guides already feel
that their heads are on the block; while as for the Cossacks, not even
my dire threats of the awful anger of the White Czar, when he finds they
have disobeyed his commands, will move them."

"Speak to your men once more, sir, and promise them big purses of gold
when we reach Ganlook. I have no money or valuables with me; but there I
can obtain plenty," said Beverly, shrewdly thinking it better that they
should believe her to be without funds.

The cavalcade had halted during this colloquy. All the men were ahead
conversing sullenly and excitedly with much gesticulation. The driver, a
stolid creature, seemingly indifferent to all that was going on, alone
remained at his post. The situation, apparently dangerous, was certainly
most annoying. But if Beverly could have read the mind of that silent
figure on the box, she would have felt slightly relieved, for he was
infinitely more anxious to proceed than even she; but from far different
reasons. He was a Russian convict, who had escaped on the way to
Siberia. Disguised as a coachman he was seeking life and safety in
Graustark, or any out-of-the-way place. It mattered little to him where
the escort concluded to go. He was going ahead. He dared not go back--he
must go on.

At the end of half an hour, the officer returned; all hope had gone from
his face. "It is useless!" he cried out. "The guides refuse to
proceed. See! They are going off with their countrymen! We are lost
without them. I do not know what to do. We cannot get to Ganlook; I do
not know the way, and the danger is great. Ah! Madam! Here they come!
The Cossacks are going back."

As he spoke, the surly mutineers were riding slowly towards the
coach. Every man had his pistol on the high pommel of the saddle. Their
faces wore an ugly look. As they passed the officer, one of them,
pointing ahead of him with his sword, shouted savagely, "Balak!"

It was conclusive and convincing. They were deserting her.

"Oh, oh, oh! The cowards!" sobbed Beverly in rage and despair. "I must
go on! Is it possible that even such men would leave--"

She was interrupted by the voice of the officer, who, raising his cap to
her, commanded at the same time the driver to turn his horses and follow
the escort to Balak.

"What is that?" demanded Beverly in alarm.

From far off came the sound of firearms. A dozen shots were fired, and
reverberated down through the gloomy pass ahead of the coach.

"They are fighting somewhere in the hills in front of us," answered the
now frightened officer. Turning quickly, he saw the deserting horsemen
halt, listen a minute, and then spur their horses. He cried out sharply
to the driver, "Come, there! Turn round! We have no time to lose!"

With a savage grin, the hitherto motionless driver hurled some insulting
remark at the officer, who was already following his men, now in full
flight down the road, and settling himself firmly on the seat, taking a
fresh grip of the reins, he yelled to his horses, at the same time
lashing them furiously with his whip, and started the coach ahead at a
fearful pace. His only thought was to get away as far as possible from
the Russian officer, then deliberately desert the coach and its
occupants and take to the hills.




CHAPTER IV

THE RAGGED RETINUE


Thoroughly mystified by the action of the driver and at length terrified
by the pace that carried them careening along the narrow road, Beverly
cried out to him, her voice shrill with alarm. Aunt Fanny was crouching
on the floor of the coach, between the seats, groaning and praying.

"Stop! Where are you going?" cried Beverly, putting her head recklessly
through the window. If the man heard her he gave no evidence of the
fact. His face was set forward and he was guiding the horses with a
firm, unquivering hand. The coach rattled and bounded along the
dangerous way hewn in the side of the mountain. A misstep or a false
turn might easily start the clumsy vehicle rolling down the declivity on
the right. The convict was taking desperate chances, and with a cool,
calculating brain, prepared to leap to the ground in case of accident
and save himself, without a thought for the victims inside.

"Stop! Turn around!" she cried in a frenzy. "We shall be killed! Are you
crazy?"

By this time they had struck a descent in the road and were rushing
along at breakneck speed into oppressive shadows that bore the first
imprints of night. Realizing at last that her cries were falling upon
purposely deaf ears, Beverly Calhoun sank back into the seat, weak and
terror-stricken. It was plain to her that the horses were not running
away, for the man had been lashing them furiously. There was but one
conclusion: he was deliberately taking her farther into the mountain
fastnesses, his purpose known only to himself. A hundred terrors
presented themselves to her as she lay huddled against the side of the
coach, her eyes closed tightly, her tender body tossed furiously about
with the sway of the vehicle. There was the fundamental fear that she
would be dashed to death down the side of the mountain, but apart from
this her quick brain was evolving all sorts of possible endings--none
short of absolute disaster.

Even as she prayed that something might intervene to check the mad rush
and to deliver her from the horrors of the moment, the raucous voice of
the driver was heard calling to his horses and the pace became
slower. The awful rocking and the jolting grew less severe, the clatter
resolved itself into a broken rumble, and then the coach stopped with a
mighty lurch.

Dragging herself from the corner, poor Beverly Calhoun, no longer a
disdainful heroine, gazed piteously out into the shadows, expecting the
murderous blade of the driver to meet her as she did so. Pauloff had
swung from the box of the coach and was peering first into the woodland
below and then upon the rocks to the left. He wore the expression of a
man trapped and seeking means of escape. Suddenly he darted behind the
coach, almost brushing against Beverly's hat as he passed the
window. She opened her lips to call to him, but even as she did so he
took to his heels and raced back over the road they had traveled so
precipitously.

Overcome by surprise and dismay, she only could watch the flight in
silence. Less than a hundred feet from where the coach was standing he
turned to the right and was lost among the rocks. Ahead, four horses,
covered with sweat, were panting and heaving as if in great distress
after their mad run. Aunt Fanny was still moaning and praying by turns
in the bottom of the carriage. Darkness was settling down upon the pass,
and objects a hundred yards away were swallowed by the gloom. There was
no sound save the blowing of the tired animals and the moaning of the
old negress. Beverly realized with a sinking heart that they were alone
and helpless in the mountains with night upon them.

She never knew where the strength and courage came from, but she forced
open the stubborn coachdoor and scrambled to the ground, looking
frantically in all directions for a single sign of hope. In the most
despairing terror she had ever experienced, she started toward the lead
horses, hoping against hope that at least one of her men had remained
faithful.

A man stepped quietly from the inner side of the road and advanced with
the uncertain tread of one who is overcome by amazement. He was a
stranger, and wore an odd, uncouth garb. The failing light told her that
he was not one of her late protectors. She shrank back with a faint cry
of alarm, ready to fly to the protecting arms of hopeless Aunt Fanny if
her uncertain legs could carry her. At the same instant another ragged
stranger, then two, three, four, or five, appeared as if by magic, some
near her, others approaching from the shadows.

"Who--who in heaven's name are you?" she faltered. The sound of her own
voice in a measure restored the courage that had been paralyzed.
Unconsciously this slim sprig of southern valor threw back her shoulders
and lifted her chin. If they were brigands they should not find her a
cringing coward. After all, she was a Calhoun.

The man she had first observed stopped near the horses' heads and peered
intently at her from beneath a broad and rakish hat. He was tall and
appeared to be more respectably clad than his fellows, although there
was not one who looked as though he possessed a complete outfit of
wearing apparel.

"Poor wayfarers, may it please your highness," replied the tall
vagabond, bowing low. To her surprise he spoke in very good English; his
voice was clear, and there was a tinge of polite irony in the tones.
"But all people are alike in the mountains. The king and the thief, the
princess and the jade live in the common fold," and his hat swung so
low that it touched the ground.

"I am powerless. I only implore you to take what valuables you may find
and let us proceed unharmed--" she cried, rapidly, eager to have it
over.

"Pray, how can your highness proceed? You have no guide, no driver, no
escort," said the man, mockingly. Beverly looked at him appealingly,
utterly without words to reply. The tears were welling to her eyes and
her heart was throbbing like that of a captured bird. In after life she
was able to picture in her mind's eye all the details of that tableau in
the mountain pass--the hopeless coach, the steaming horses, the rakish
bandit, and his picturesque men, the towering crags, and a mite of a
girl facing the end of everything.

"Your highness is said to be brave, but even your wonderful courage can
avail nothing in this instance," said the leader, pleasantly. "Your
escort has fled as though pursued by something stronger than shadows;
your driver has deserted; your horses are half-dead; you are indeed, as
you have said, powerless. And you are, besides all these, in the
clutches of a band of merciless cutthroats."

"Oh," moaned Beverly, suddenly leaning against the fore wheel, her eyes
almost starting from her head. The leader laughed quietly--yes,
good-naturedly. "Oh, you won't--you won't kill us?" She had time to
observe that there were smiles on the faces of all the men within the
circle of light.

"Rest assured, your highness," said the leader, leaning upon his
rifle-barrel with careless grace, "we intend no harm to you. Every man
you meet in Graustark is not a brigand, I trust, for your sake. We are
simple hunters, and not what we may seem. It is fortunate that you have
fallen into honest hands. There is someone in the coach?" he asked,
quickly alert. A prolonged groan proved to Beverly that Aunt Fanny had
screwed up sufficient courage to look out of the window.

"My old servant," she half whispered. Then, as several of the men
started toward the door: "But she is old and wouldn't harm a
fly. Please, please don't hurt her."

"Compose yourself; she is safe," said the leader. By this time it was
quite dark. At a word from him two or three men lighted lanterns. The
picture was more weird than ever in the fitful glow. "May I ask, your
highness, how do you intend to reach Edelweiss in your present
condition. You cannot manage those horses, and besides, you do not know
the way."

"Aren't you going to rob us?" demanded Beverly, hope springing to the
surface with a joyful bound. The stranger laughed heartily, and shook
his head.

"Do we not look like honest men?" he cried, with a wave of his hand
toward his companions. Beverly looked dubious. "We live the good, clean
life of the wilderness. Out-door life is necessary for our health. We
could not live in the city," he went on with grim humor. For the first
time, Beverly noticed that he wore a huge black patch over his left eye,
held in place by a cord. He appeared more formidable than ever under the
light of critical inspection.



CHAPTER IV

THE RAGGED RETINUE


"I am very much relieved," said Beverly, who was not at all relieved.
"But why have you stopped us in this manner?"

"Stopped you?" cried the man with the patch. "I implore you to unsay
that, your highness. Your coach was quite at a standstill before we knew
of its presence. You do us a grave injustice."

"It's very strange," muttered Beverly, somewhat taken aback.

"Have you observed that it is quite dark?" asked the leader, putting
away his brief show of indignation.

"Dear me; so it is!" cried she, now able to think more clearly.

"And you are miles from an inn or house of any kind," he went on. "Do
you expect to stay here all night?"

"I'm--I'm not afraid," bravely shivered Beverly.

"It is most dangerous."

"I have a revolver," the weak little voice went on.

"Oho! What is it for?"

"To use in case of emergency."

"Such as repelling brigands who suddenly appear upon the scene?"

"Yes."

"May I ask why you did not use it this evening?"

"Because it is locked up in one of my bags--I don't know just which
one--and Aunt Fanny has the key," confessed Beverly.

The chief of the "honest men" laughed again, a clear, ringing laugh that
bespoke supreme confidence in his right to enjoy himself.

"And who is Aunt Fanny?" he asked, covering his patch carefully with his
slouching hat.

"My servant. She's colored."

"Colored?" he asked in amazement. "What do you mean?"

"Why, she's a negress. Don't you know what a colored person is?"

"You mean she is a slave--a black slave?"

"We don't own slaves any mo'--more." He looked more puzzled than
ever--then at last, to satisfy himself, walked over and peered into the
coach. Aunt Fanny set up a dismal howl; an instant later Sir Honesty was
pushed aside, and Miss Calhoun was anxiously trying to comfort her old
friend through the window. The man looked on in silent wonder for a
minute, and then strode off to where a group of his men stood talking.

"Is yo' daid yit, Miss Bev'ly--is de end came?" moaned Aunt
Fanny. Beverly could not repress a smile.

"I am quite alive, Auntie. These men will not hurt us. They are _very
nice_ gentlemen." She uttered the last observation in a loud voice
and it had its effect, for the leader came to her side with long
strides.

"Convince your servant that we mean no harm, your highness," he said
eagerly, a new deference in his voice and manner. "We have only the best
of motives in mind. True, the hills are full of lawless fellows and we
are obliged to fight them almost daily, but you have fallen in with
honest men--very nice gentlemen, I trust. Less than an hour ago we put a
band of robbers to flight--"

"I heard the shooting," cried Beverly. "It was that which put my escort
to flight."

"They could not have been soldiers of Graustark, then, your highness,"
quite gallantly.

"They were Cossacks, or whatever you call them. But, pray, why do you
call me 'your highness'?" demanded Beverly. The tall leader swept the
ground with his hat once more.

"All the outside world knows the Princess Yetive--why not the humble
mountain man? You will pardon me, but every man in the hills knows that
you are to pass through on the way from St. Petersburg to Ganlook. We
are not so far from the world, after all, we rough people of the
hills. We know that your highness left St. Petersburg by rail last
Sunday and took to the highway day before yesterday, because the floods
had washed away the bridges north of Axphain. Even the hills have eyes
and ears."

Beverly listened with increasing perplexity. It was true that she had
left St. Petersburg on Sunday; that the unprecedented floods had stopped
all railway traffic in the hills, compelling her to travel for many
miles by stage, and that the whole country was confusing her in some
strange way with the Princess Yetive. The news had evidently sped
through Axphain and the hills with the swiftness of fire. It would be
useless to deny the story; these men would not believe her. In a flash
she decided that it would be best to pose for the time being as the
ruler of Graustark. It remained only for her to impress upon Aunt Fanny
the importance of this resolution.

"What wise old hills they must be," she said, with evasive enthusiasm.
"You cannot expect me to admit, however, that I am the princess," she
went on.

"It would not be just to your excellent reputation for tact if you did
so, your highness," calmly spoke the man. "It is quite as easy to say
that you are not the princess as to say that you are, so what matters,
after all? We reserve the right, however, to do homage to the queen who
rules over these wise old hills. I offer you the humble services of
myself and my companions. We are yours to command."

"I am very grateful to find that you are not brigands, believe me," said
Beverly. "Pray tell me who you are, then, and you shall be sufficiently
rewarded for your good intentions."

"I? Oh, your highness, I am Baldos, the goat-hunter, a poor subject for
reward at your hands. I may as well admit that I am a poacher, and have
no legal right to the prosperity of your hills. The only reward I can
ask is forgiveness for trespassing upon the property of others."

"You shall receive pardon for all transgressions. But you must get me to
some place of safety," said Beverly, eagerly.

"And quickly, too, you might well have added," he said, lightly. "The
horses have rested, I think, so with your permission we may proceed. I
know of a place where you may spend the night comfortably and be
refreshed for the rough journey to-morrow."

"To-morrow? How can I go on? I am alone," she cried, despairingly.

"Permit me to remind you that you are no longer alone. You have a ragged
following, your highness, but it shall be a loyal one. Will you re-enter
the coach? It is not far to the place I speak of, and I myself will
drive you there. Come, it is getting late, and your retinue, at least,
is hungry."

He flung open the coach door, and his hat swept the ground once
more. The light of a lantern played fitfully upon his dark, gaunt face,
with its gallant smile and ominous patch. She hesitated, fear entering
her soul once more. He looked up quickly and saw the indecision in her
eyes, the mute appeal.

"Trust me, your highness," he said, gravely, and she allowed him to hand
her into the coach.

A moment later he was upon the driver's box, reins in hand. Calling out
to his companions in a language strange to Beverly, he cracked the whip,
and once more they were lumbering over the wretched road. Beverly sank
back into the seat with a deep sigh of resignation.

"Well, I'm in for it," she thought. "It doesn't matter whether they are
thieves or angels, I reckon I'll have to take what comes. He doesn't
look very much like an angel, but he looked at me just now as if he
thought I were one. Dear me, I wish I were back in Washin'ton!"




CHAPTER V

THE INN OF THE HAWK AND RAVEN


Two of the men walked close beside the door, one of them bearing a
lantern. They conversed in low tones and in a language which Beverly
could not understand. After awhile she found herself analyzing the garb
and manner of the men. She was saying to herself that here were her
first real specimens of Graustark peasantry, and they were to mark an
ineffaceable spot in her memory. They were dark, strong-faced men of
medium height, with fierce, black eyes and long black hair. As no two
were dressed alike, it was impossible to recognize characteristic styles
of attire. Some were in the rude, baggy costumes of the peasant as she
had imagined him; others were dressed in the tight-fitting but
dilapidated uniforms of the soldiery, while several were in clothes
partly European and partly Oriental. There were hats and fezzes and
caps, some with feathers In the bands, others without. The man nearest
the coach wore the dirty gray uniform of as army officer, full of holes
and rents, while another strode along in a pair of baggy yellow trousers
and a dusty London dinner jacket. All in all, it was the motliest band
of vagabonds she had ever seen. There were at least ten or a dozen in
the party. While a few carried swords, all lugged the long rifles and
crooked daggers of the Tartars.

"Aunt Fanny," Beverly whispered, suddenly moving to the side of the
subdued servant, "where is my revolver?" It had come to her like a flash
that a subsequent emergency should not find her unprepared. Aunt Fanny's
jaw dropped, and her eyes were like white rings in a black screen.

"Good Lawd--wha--what fo' Miss Bev'ly--"

"Sh! Don't call me Miss Bev'ly. Now, just you pay 'tention to me and
I'll tell you something queer. Get my revolver right away, and don't let
those men see what you are doing." While Aunt Fanny's trembling fingers
went in search of the firearm, Beverly outlined the situation briefly
but explicitly. The old woman was not slow to understand. Her wits
sharpened by fear, she grasped Beverly's instructions with astonishing
avidity.

"Ve'y well, yo' highness," she said with fine reverence, "Ah'll p'ocuah
de bottle o' pepp'mint fo' yo' if yo' jes don' mine me pullin' an'
haulin' 'mongst dese boxes. Mebbe yo' all 'druther hab de gingeh?" With
this wonderful subterfuge as a shield she dug slyly into one of the bags
and pulled forth a revolver. Under ordinary circumstances she would have
been mortally afraid to touch it, but not so in this emergency. Beverly
shoved the weapon into the pocket of her gray traveling jacket.

"I feel much better now, Aunt Fanny," she said, and Aunt Fanny gave a
vast chuckle.

"Yas, ma'am, indeed,--yo' highness," she agreed, suavely.

The coach rolled along for half an hour, and then stopped with a sudden
jolt. An instant later the tall driver appeared at the window, his head
uncovered. A man hard by held a lantern.

_"Qua vandos ar deltanet, yos serent,"_ said the leader, showing
his white teeth in a triumphant smile. His exposed eye seemed to be
glowing with pleasure and excitement.

"What?" murmured Beverly, hopelessly. A puzzled expression came into his
face. Then his smile deepened and his eye took on a knowing gleam.

"Ah, I see," he said, gaily, "your highness prefers not to speak the
language of Graustark. Is it necessary for me to repeat in English?"

"I really wish you would," said Beverly, catching her breath. "Just to
see how it sounds, you know."

"Your every wish shall be gratified. I beg to inform you that we have
reached the Inn of the Hawk and Raven. This is where we dwelt last
night. Tomorrow we, too, abandon the place, so our fortunes may run
together for some hours, at least. There is but little to offer you in
the way of nourishment, and there are none of the comforts of a
palace. Yet princesses can no more be choosers than beggars when the
fare's in one pot. Come, your highness, let me conduct you to the guest
chamber of the Inn of the Hawk and Raven."

Beverly took his hand and stepped to the ground, looking about in wonder
and perplexity.

"I see no inn," she murmured apprehensively.

"Look aloft, your highness. That great black canopy is the roof; we are
standing upon the floor, and the dark shadows just beyond the circle of
light are the walls of the Hawk and Raven. This is the largest tavern in
all Graustark. Its dimensions are as wide as the world itself."

"You mean that there is no inn at all?" the girl cried in dismay.

"Alas, I must confess it. And yet there is shelter here. Come with
me. Let your servant follow." He took her by the hand, and led her away
from the coach, a ragged lantern-bearer preceding. Beverly's little
right hand was rigidly clutching the revolver in her pocket. It was a
capacious pocket, and the muzzle of the weapon bored defiantly into a
timid powder-rag that lay on the bottom. The little leather purse from
which it escaped had its silver lips opened as if in a broad grin of
derision, reveling in the plight of the chamois. The guide's hand was at
once firm and gentle, his stride bold, yet easy. His rakish hat, with
its aggressive red feather, towered a full head above Beverly's Parisian
violets.

"Have you no home at all--no house in which to sleep?" Beverly managed
to ask.

"I live in a castle of air," said he, waving his hand gracefully. "I
sleep in the house of my fathers."

"You poor fellow," cried Beverly, pityingly. He laughed and absently
patted the hilt of his sword.

She heard the men behind them turning the coach into the glen through
which they walked carefully. Her feet fell upon a soft, grassy sward and
the clatter of stones was now no longer heard. They were among the
shadowy trees, gaunt trunks of enormous size looming up in the light of
the lanterns. Unconsciously her thoughts went over to the Forest of
Arden and the woodland home of Rosalind, as she had imagined it to
be. Soon there came to her ears the swish of waters, as of some
turbulent river hurrying by. Instinctively she drew back and her eyes
were set with alarm upon the black wall of night ahead. Yetive had
spoken more than once of this wilderness. Many an unlucky traveler had
been lost forever in its fastnesses.

"It is the river, your highness. There is no danger. I will not lead you
into it," he said, a trifle roughly. "We are low in the valley and there
are marshes yonder when the river is in its natural bed. The floods have
covered the low grounds, and there is a torrent coming down from the
hills. Here we are, your highness. This is the Inn of the Hawk and
Raven."

He bowed and pointed with his hat to the smouldering fire a short
distance ahead. They had turned a bend in the overhanging cliff, and
were very close to the retreat before she saw the glow.

The fire was in the open air and directly in front of a deep cleft in
the rocky background. Judging by the sound, the river could not be more
than two hundred feet away. Men came up with lanterns and others piled
brush upon the fire. In a very short time the glen was weirdly
illuminated by the dancing flames. From her seat on a huge log, Beverly
was thus enabled to survey a portion of her surroundings. The
overhanging ledge of rock formed a wide, deep canopy, underneath which
was perfect shelter. The floor seemed to be rich, grassless loam, and
here and there were pallets of long grass, evidently the couches of
these homeless men. All about were huge trees, and in the direction of
the river the grass grew higher and then gave place to reeds. The
foliage above was so dense that the moon and stars were invisible. There
was a deathly stillness in the air. The very loneliness was so appalling
that Beverly's poor little heart was in a quiver of dread. Aunt Fanny,
who sat near by, had not spoken since leaving the coach, but her eyes
were expressively active.

The tall leader stood near the fire, conversing with half a dozen of his
followers. Miss Calhoun's eyes finally rested upon this central figure
in the strange picture. He was attired in a dark-gray uniform that
reminded her oddly of the dragoon choruses in the comic operas at
home. The garments, while torn and soiled, were well-fitting. His
shoulders were broad and square, his hips narrow, his legs long and
straight. There was an air of impudent grace about him that went well
with his life and profession. Surely, here was a careless freelance upon
whom life weighed lightly, while death "stood afar off" and
despaired. The light of the fire brought his gleaming face into bold
relief, for his hat was off. Black and thick was his hair, rumpled and
apparently uncared for. The face was lean, smooth and strong, with a
devil-may-care curve at the corners of the mouth. Beverly found herself
lamenting the fact that such an interesting face should be marred by an
ugly black patch, covering she knew not what manner of defect. As for
the rest of them, they were a grim company. Some were young and
beardless, others were old and grizzly, but all were active, alert and
strong. The leader appeared to be the only one in the party who could
speak and understand the English language. As Beverly sat and watched
his virile, mocking face, and studied his graceful movements, she found
herself wondering how an ignorant, homeless wanderer in the hills could
be so poetic and so cultured as this fellow seemed to be.

Three or four men, who were unmistakably of a lower order than their
companions, set about preparing a supper. Others unhitched the tired
horses and led them off toward the river. Two dashing young fellows
carried the seat-cushions under the rocky canopy and constructed an
elaborate couch for the "Princess." The chief, with his own hands, soon
began the construction of a small chamber in this particular corner of
the cave, near the opening. The walls of the chamber were formed of
carriage robes and blankets, cloaks and oak branches.

"The guest chamber, your highness," he said, approaching her with a
smile at the conclusion of his work.

"It has been most interesting to watch you," she said, rising.

"And it has been a delight to interest you," he responded. "You will
find seclusion there, and you need see none of us until it pleases you."

She looked him fairly in the eye for a moment, and then impulsively
extended her hand. He clasped it warmly, but not without some show of
surprise.

"I am trusting you implicitly," she said.

"The knave is glorified," was his simple rejoinder. He conducted her to
the improvised bed-chamber, Aunt Fanny following with loyal but
uncertain tread. "I regret, your highness, that the conveniences are so
few. We have no landlady except Mother Earth, no waiters, no porters, no
maids, in the Inn of the Hawk and Raven. This being a men's hotel, the
baths are on the river-front. I am having water brought to your
apartments, however, but it is with deepest shame and sorrow that I
confess we have no towels."

She laughed so heartily that his face brightened perceptibly, whilst the
faces of his men turned in their direction as though by concert.

"It is a typical mountain resort, then," she said, "I think I can manage
very well if you will fetch my bags to my room, sir."

"By the way, will you have dinner served in your room?" very
good-humoredly.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to eat in the public dining-room," said
she. A few minutes later Beverly was sitting upon one of her small
trunks and Aunt Fanny was laboriously brushing her dark hair.

"It's very jolly being a princess," murmured Miss Calhoun. She had
bathed her face in one of the leather buckets from the coach, and the
dust of the road had been brushed away by the vigorous lady-in-waiting.

"Yas, ma'am, Miss--yo' highness, hit's monstrous fine fo' yo', but whar
is Ah goin' to sleep? Out yondah, wif all dose scalawags?" said Aunt
Fanny, rebelliously.

"You shall have a bed in here, Aunt Fanny," said Beverly.

"Dey's de queeres' lot o' tramps Ah eveh did see, an' Ah wouldn' trust
'em 's fer as Ah could heave a brick house."

"But the leader is such a very courteous gentleman," remonstrated
Beverly.

"Yas, ma'am; he mussa came f'm Gawgia or Kaintuck," was Aunt Fanny's
sincere compliment.

The pseudo-princess dined with the vagabonds that night. She sat on the
log beside the tall leader, and ate heartily of the broth and broiled
goatmeat, the grapes and the nuts, and drank of the spring water which
took the place of wine and coffee and cordial. It was a strange supper
amid strange environments, but she enjoyed it as she had never before
enjoyed a meal. The air was full of romance and danger, and her
imagination was enthralled. Everything was so new and unreal that she
scarcely could believe herself awake. The world seemed to have gone back
to the days of Robin Hood and his merry men.

"You fare well at the Inn of the Hawk and Raven," she said to him, her
voice tremulous with excitement. He looked mournfully at her for a
moment and then smiled naively.

"It is the first wholesome meal we have had in two days," he replied.

"You don't mean it!"

"Yes. We were lucky with the guns to-day. Fate was kind to us--and to
you, for we are better prepared to entertain royalty to-day than at any
time since I have been in the hills of Graustark."

"Then you have not always lived in Graustark?"

"Alas, no, your highness. I have lived elsewhere."

"But you were born in the principality?"

"I am a subject of its princess in heart from this day forth, but not by
birth or condition. I am a native of the vast domain known to a few of
us as Circumstance," and he smiled rather recklessly.

"You are a poet, a delicious poet," cried Beverly, forgetting herself in
her enthusiasm.

"Perhaps that is why I am hungry and unshorn. It had not occurred to me
in that light. When you are ready to retire, your highness," he said,
abruptly rising, "we shall be pleased to consider the Inn of the Hawk
and Raven closed for the night. Having feasted well, we should sleep
well. We have a hard day before us. With your consent, I shall place my
couch of grass near your door. I am the porter. You have but to call if
anything is desired."

She was tired, but she would have sat up all night rather than miss any
of the strange romance that had been thrust upon her. But Sir
Red-feather's suggestion savored of a command and she reluctantly made
her way to the flapping blanket that marked the entrance to the
bed-chamber. He drew the curtain aside, swung his hat low and muttered a
soft goodnight.

"May your highness's dreams be pleasant ones!" he said.

"Thank you," said she, and the curtain dropped impertinently. "That was
very cool of him, I must say," she added, as she looked at the wavering
door.

When she went to sleep, she never knew; she was certain that her eyes
were rebellious for a long time and that she wondered how her gray dress
would look after she had slept in it all night. She heard low singing as
if in the distance, but after a while the stillness became so intense
that its pressure almost suffocated her. The rush of the river grew
louder and louder and there was a swishing sound that died in her ears
almost as she wondered what it meant. Her last waking thoughts were of
the "black-patch" poet. Was he lying near the door?

She was awakened in the middle of the night by the violent flapping of
her chamber door. Startled, she sat bolt upright and strained her eyes
to pierce the mysterious darkness. Aunt Fanny, on her bed of grass,
stirred convulsively, but did not awake. The blackness of the strange
chamber was broken ever and anon by faint flashes of light from without,
and she lived through long minutes of terror before it dawned upon her
that a thunderstorm was brewing. The wind was rising, and the night
seemed agog with excitement. Beverly crept from her couch and felt her
way to the fluttering doorway. Drawing aside the blanket she peered
forth into the night, her heart jumping with terror. Her highness was
very much afraid of thunder and lightning.

The fire in the open had died down until naught remained but a few
glowing embers. These were blown into brilliancy by the wind, casting a
steady red light over the scene. There was but one human figure in
sight. Beside the fire stood the tall wanderer. He was hatless and
coatless, and his arms were folded across his chest. Seemingly oblivious
to the approach of the storm, he stood staring into the heap of ashes at
his feet. His face was toward her, every feature plainly distinguishable
in the faint glow from the fire. To her amazement the black patch was
missing from the eye; and, what surprised her almost to the point of
exclaiming aloud, there appeared to be absolutely no reason for its
presence there at any time. There was no mark or blemish upon or about
the eye; it was as clear and penetrating as its fellow, darkly gleaming
in the red glow from below. Moreover, Beverly saw that he was strikingly
handsome--a strong, manly face. The highly imaginative southern girl's
mind reverted to the first portraits of Napoleon she had seen.

Suddenly he started, threw up his head and looking up to the sky uttered
some strange words. Then he strode abruptly toward her doorway. She fell
back breathless. He stopped just outside, and she knew that he was
listening for sounds from within. After many minutes she stealthily
looked forth again. He was standing near the fire, his back toward her,
looking off into the night.

The wind was growing stronger; the breezes fanned the night into a rush
of shivery coolness. Constant flickerings of lightning illuminated the
forest, transforming the tree-tops into great black waves. Tall reeds
along the river bank began to bend their tops, to swing themselves
gently to and from the wind. In the lowlands down from the cave "will o'
the wisps" played tag with "Jack o' the lanterns," merrily scampering
about in the blackness, reminding her of the revellers in a famous
Brocken scene. Low moans grew out of the havoc, and voices seemed to
speak in unintelligible whispers to the agitated twigs and leaves. The
secrets of the wind were being spread upon the records of the night;
tales of many climes passed through the ears of Nature.

From gentle undulations the marshland reeds swept into lower dips,
danced wilder minuets, lashed each other with infatuated glee, mocking
the whistle of the wind with an angry swish of their tall bodies.
Around the cornices of the Inn of the Hawk and Raven scurried the
singing breezes, reluctant to leave a playground so pleasing to the
fancy. Soon the night became a cauldron, a surging, hissing, roaring
receptacle in which were mixing the ingredients of disaster. Night-birds
flapped through the moaning tree-tops, in search of shelter; reeds were
flattened to the earth, bowing to the sovereignty of the wind; clouds
roared with the rumble of a million chariots, and then the sky and the
earth met in one of those savage conflicts that make all other warfare
seem as play.

As Beverly sank back from the crash, she saw him throw his arms aloft as
though inviting the elements to mass themselves and their energy upon
his head. She shrieked involuntarily and he heard the cry above the
carnage. Instantly his face was turned in her direction.

"Help! Help!" she cried. He bounded toward the swishing robes and
blankets, but his impulse had found a rival in the blast. Like a flash
the walls of the guest chamber were whisked away, scuttling off into the
night or back into the depths of the cavern. With the deluge came the
man. From among the stifling robes he snatched her up and bore her away,
she knew not whither.




CHAPTER VI

THE HOME OF THE LION


"May all storms be as pleasant as this one!" she heard someone say, with
a merry laugh. The next instant she was placed soundly upon her feet. A
blinding flash of lightning revealed Baldos, the goat-hunter, at her
side, while a dozen shadowy figures were scrambling to their feet in all
corners of the Hawk and Raven. Someone was clutching her by the dress at
the knees. She did not have to look down to know that it was Aunt Fanny.

"Goodness!" gasped the princess, and then it was pitch dark again. The
man at her side called out a command in his own language, and then
turned his face close to hers.

"Do not be alarmed. We are quite safe now. The royal bed-chamber has
come to grief, however, I am sorry to say. What a fool I was not to have
foreseen all this! The storm has been brewing since midnight," he was
saying to her.

"Isn't it awful?" cried Beverly, between a moan a shriek.

"They are trifles after one gets used to them," he said. "I have come to
be quite at home in the tempest. There are other things much more
annoying, I assure your highness. We shall have lights in a moment."
Even as he spoke, two or three lanterns began to flicker feebly.

"Be quiet, Aunt Fanny; you are not killed at all," commanded Beverly,
quite firmly.

"De house is suah to blow down. Miss--yo' highness," groaned the trusty
maidservant. Beverly laughed bravely but nervously with the tall
goat-hunter. He at once set about making his guest comfortable and
secure from the effects of the tempest, which was now at its height. Her
couch of cushions was dragged far back into the cavern and the rescued
blankets, though drenched, again became a screen.

"Do you imagine that I'm going in there while this storm rages?" Beverly
demanded, as the work progressed.

"Are you not afraid of lightning? Most young women are."

"That's the trouble. I am afraid of it. I'd much rather stay out here
where there is company. You don't mind, do you?"

"Paradise cannot be spurned by one who now feels its warmth for the
first time," said he, gallantly. "Your fear is my delight. Pray sit upon
our throne. It was once a humble carriage pail of leather, but now it is
exalted. Besides, it is much more comfortable than some of the gilded
chairs we hear about."

"You are given to irony, I fear," she said, observing a peculiar smile
on his lips.

"I crave pardon, your highness," he said, humbly "The heart of the
goat-hunter is more gentle than his wit. I shall not again forget that
you are a princess and I the veriest beggar."

"I didn't mean to hurt you!" she cried, in contrition, for she was a
very poor example of what a princess is supposed to be.

"There is no wound, your highness," he quickly said. With a mocking
grace that almost angered her, he dropped to his knee and motioned for
her to be seated. She sat down suddenly, clapping her hands to her ears
and shutting her eyes tightly. The crash of thunder that came at that
instant was the most fearful of all, and it was a full minute before she
dared to lift her lids again. He was standing before her, and there was
genuine compassion in his face. "It's terrible," he said. "Never before
have I seen such a storm. Have courage, your highness; it can last but
little longer."

"Goodness!" said the real American girl, for want of something more
expressive.

"Your servant has crept into your couch, I fear. Shall I sit here at
your feet? Perhaps you may feel a small sense of security if I--"

"Indeed, I want you to sit there," she cried. He forthwith threw himself
upon the floor of the cave, a graceful, respectful guardian. Minutes
went by without a word from either. The noise of the storm made it
impossible to speak and be heard. Scattered about the cavern were his
outstretched followers, doubtless asleep once more in all this
turmoil. With the first lull in the war of the elements, Beverly gave
utterance to the thought that long had been struggling for release.

"Why do you wear that horrid black patch over your eye?" she asked, a
trifle timidly. He muttered a sharp exclamation and clapped his hand to
his eye. For the first time since the beginning of their strange
acquaintanceship Beverly observed downright confusion in this debonair
knight of the wilds.

"It has--has slipped off--" he stammered, with a guilty grin. His merry
insolence was gone, his composure with it. Beverly laughed with keen
enjoyment over the discomfiture of the shame-faced vagabond.

"You can't fool me," she exclaimed, shaking her finger at him in the
most unconventional way. "It was intended to be a disguise. There is
absolutely nothing the matter with your eye."

He was speechless for a moment, recovering himself. Wisdom is conceived
in silence, and he knew this. Vagabond or gentleman, he was a clever
actor.

"The eye is weak, your highness, and I cover it in the daytime to
protect it from the sunlight," he said, coolly.

"That's all very nice, but it looks to be quite as good as the
other. And what is more, sir, you are not putting the patch over the
same eye that wore it when I first saw you. It was the left eye at
sunset. Does the trouble transfer after dark?"

He broke into an honest laugh and hastily moved the black patch across
his nose to the left eye.

"I was turned around in the darkness, that's all," he said, serenely.
"It belongs over the left eye, and I am deeply grateful to you for
discovering the error."

"I don't see any especial reason why you should wear it after dark, do
you? There is no sunlight, I'm sure."

"I am dazzled, nevertheless," he retorted.

"Fiddlesticks!" she said. "This is a cave, not a drawing-room."

"In other words, I am a lout and not a courtier," he smiled. "Well, a
lout may look at a princess. We have no court etiquette in the hills, I
am sorry to say."

"That was very unkind, even though you said it most becomingly," she
protested. "You have called this pail a throne. Let us also imagine that
you are a courtier."

"You punish me most gently, your highness. I shall not forget my manners
again, believe me." He seemed thoroughly subdued.

"Then I shall expect you to remove that horrid black thing. It is
positively villainous. You look much better without it."

"Is it an edict or a compliment?" he asked with such deep gravity that
she flushed.

"It is neither," she answered. "You don't have to take it off unless you
want to--"

"In either event, it is off. You were right. It serves as a partial
disguise. I have many enemies and the black patch is a very good
friend."

"How perfectly lovely," cried Beverly. "Tell me all about it. I adore
stories about feuds and all that."

"Your husband is an American. He should be able to keep you well
entertained with blood-and-thunder stories," said he.

"My hus--What do you--Oh, yes!" gasped Beverly. "To be sure. I didn't
hear you, I guess. That was rather a severe clap of thunder, wasn't it?"

"Is that also a command?"

"What do you mean?"

"There was no thunderclap, you know."

"Oh, wasn't there?" helplessly.

"The storm is quite past. There is still a dash of rain in the air and
the wind may be dying hard, but aside from that I think the noise is
quite subdued."

"I believe you are right. How sudden it all was."

"There are several hours between this and dawn, your highness, and you
should try to get a little more sleep. Your cushions are dry and--"

"Very well, since you are so eager to get rid of--" began Beverly, and
then stopped, for it did not sound particularly regal. "I should have
said, you are very thoughtful. You will call me if I sleep late?"

"We shall start early, with your permission. It is forty miles to
Ganlook, and we must be half way there by nightfall."

"Must we spend another night like this?" cried Beverly, dolefully.

"Alas, I fear you must endure us another night. I am afraid, however, we
shall not find quarters as comfortable as these of the Hawk and Raven."

"I didn't mean to be ungrateful and--er--snippish," she said, wondering
if he knew the meaning of the word.

"No?" he said politely, and she knew he did not--whereupon she felt
distinctly humbled.

"You know you speak such excellent English," she said irrelevantly.

He bowed low. As he straightened his figure, to his amazement, he beheld
an agonizing look of horror on her face; her eyes riveted on the mouth
of the cavern. Then, there came an angrier sound, unlike any that had
gone before in that night of turmoil.

"Look there! Quick!"

The cry of terror from the girl's palsied lips, as she pointed to
something behind him, awoke the mountain man to instant
action. Instinctively, he snatched his long dagger from its sheath and
turned quickly. Not twenty feet from them a huge cat-like beast stood
half crouched on the edge of the darkness, his long tail switching
angrily. The feeble light from the depth of the cave threw the long,
water-soaked visitor into bold relief against the black wall beyond.
Apparently, he was as much surprised as the two who glared at him, as
though frozen to the spot. A snarling whine, a fierce growl, indicated
his fury at finding his shelter--his lair occupied.

"My God! A mountain lion! Ravone! Franz! To me!" he cried hoarsely, and
sprang before her shouting loudly to the sleepers.

A score of men, half awake, grasped their weapons and struggled to their
feet in answer to his call. The lion's gaunt body shot through the
air. In two bounds, he was upon the goat-hunter. Baldos stood squarely
and firmly to meet the rush of the maddened beast, his long dagger
poised for the death-dealing blow.

"Run!" he shouted to her.

Beverly Calhoun had fighting blood in her veins. Utterly unconscious of
her action, at the time, she quickly drew the little silver-handled
revolver from the pocket of her gown. As man, beast and knife came
together, in her excitement she fired recklessly at the combatants
without any thought of the imminent danger of killing her
protector. There was a wild scream of pain from the wounded beast, more
pistol shots, fierce yells from the excited hunters, the rush of feet
and then the terrified and almost frantic girl staggered and fell
against the rocky wall. Her wide gray eyes were fastened upon the
writhing lion and the smoking pistol was tightly clutched in her hand.

It had all occurred in such an incredible short space of time that she
could not yet realize what had happened.

Her heart and brain seemed paralyzed, her limbs stiff and
immovable. Like the dizzy whirl of a kaleidoscope, the picture before
her resolved itself into shape.

The beast was gasping his last upon the rocky floor, the hilt of the
goat hunter's dagger protruding from his side. Baldos, supported by two
of his men, stood above the savage victim, his legs covered with blood.
The cave was full of smoke and the smell of powder. Out of the haze she
began to see the light of understanding. Baldos alone was injured. He
had stood between her and the rush of the lion, and he had saved her, at
a cost she knew not how great.

"Oh, the blood!" she cried hoarsely. "Is it--is it--are you badly hurt?"
She was at his side, the pistol falling from her nervous fingers.

"Don't come near me; I'm all right," he cried quickly.

"Take care--your dress--"

"Oh, I'm so glad to hear you speak! Never mind the dress! You are torn
to pieces! You must be frightfully hurt. Oh, isn't it
terrible--horrible! Aunt Fanny! Come here this minute!"

Forgetting the beast and throwing off the paralysis of fear, she pushed
one of the men away and grasped the arm of the injured man. He winced
perceptibly and she felt something warm and sticky on her hands. She
knew it was blood, but it was not in her to shrink at a moment like
this.

"Your arm, too!" she gasped. He smiled, although his face was white with
pain. "How brave you were! You might have been--I'll never forget
it--never! Don't stand there, Aunt Fanny! Quick! Get those cushions for
him. He's hurt."

"Good Lawd!" was all the old woman could say, but she obeyed her
mistress.

"It was easier than it looked, your highness," murmured Baldos. "Luck
was with me. The knife went to his heart. I am merely scratched. His
leap was short, but he caught me above the knees with his claws. Alas,
your highness, these trousers of mine were bad enough before, but now
they are in shreds. What patching I shall have to do! And you may well
imagine we are short of thread and needles and thimbles--"

"Don't jest, for heaven's sake! Don't talk like that. Here! Lie down
upon these cushions and--"

"Never! Desecrate the couch of Graustark's ruler? I, the poor
goat-hunter? I'll use the lion for a pillow and the rock for an
operating table. In ten minutes my men can have these scratches dressed
and bound--in fact, there is a surgical student among them, poor
fellow. I think I am his first patient. Ravone, attend me."

He threw himself upon the ground and calmly placed his head upon the
body of the animal.

"I insist upon your taking these cushions," cried Beverly.

"And I decline irrevocably." She stared at him in positive anger. "Trust
Ravone to dress these trifling wounds, your highness. He may not be as
gentle, but he is as firm as any princess in all the world."

"But your arm?" she cried. "Didn't you say it was your legs? Your arm is
covered with blood, too. Oh, dear me, I'm afraid you are frightfully
wounded."

"A stray bullet from one of my men struck me there, I think. You know
there was but little time for aiming--?"

"Wait! Let me think a minute! Good heavens!" she exclaimed with a
start. Her eyes were suddenly filled with tears and there was a break in
her voice. "I shot you! Don't deny it--don't! It is the right arm, and
your men could not have hit it from where they stood. Oh, oh, oh!"

Baldos smiled as he bared his arm. "Your aim was good," he
admitted. "Had not my knife already been in the lion's heart, your
bullet would have gone there. It is my misfortune that my arm was in the
way. Besides, your highness, it has only cut through the skin--and a
little below, perhaps. It will be well in a day or two, I am sure you
will find your bullet in the carcass of our lamented friend, the
probable owner of this place."

Ravone, a hungry-looking youth, took charge of the wounded leader, while
her highness retreated to the farthest corner of the cavern. There she
sat and trembled while the wounds were being dressed. Aunt Fanny bustled
back and forth, first unceremoniously pushing her way through the circle
of men to take observations, and then reporting to the impatient
girl. The storm had passed and the night was still, except for the rush
of the river; raindrops fell now and then from the trees, glistening
like diamonds as they touched the light from the cavern's mouth. It was
all very dreary, uncanny and oppressive to poor Beverly. Now and then
she caught herself sobbing, more out of shame and humiliation than in
sadness, for had she not shot the man who stepped between her and death?
What must he think of her?

"He says yo' all 'd betteh go to baid, Miss Bev--yo' highness," said
Aunt Fanny after one of her trips.

"Oh, he does, does he?" sniffed Beverly. "I'll go to bed when I
please. Tell him so. No, no--don't do it, Aunt Fanny! Tell him I'll go
to bed when I'm sure he is quite comfortable, not before."

"But he's jes' a goat puncheh er a--"

"He's a man, if there ever was one. Don't let me hear you call him a
goat puncher again. How are his legs?" Aunt Fanny was almost stunned by
this amazing question from her ever-decorous mistress. "Why don't you
answer? Will they have to be cut off? Didn't you see them?"

"Fo' de Lawd's sake, missy, co'se Ah did, but yo' all kindeh susprise
me. Dey's p'etty bad skun up, missy; de hide's peeled up consid'ble. But
hit ain' dang'ous,--no, ma'am. Jes' skun, 'at's all."

"And his arm--where I shot him?"

"Puffec'ly triflin', ma'am,--yo' highness. Cobwebs 'd stop de bleedin'
an' Ah tole 'em so, but 'at felleh couldn' un'stan' me. Misteh
what's-his-names he says something to de docteh, an' den dey goes afteh
de cobwebs, suah 'nough. 'Tain' bleedin' no mo', missy. He's mostes'
neah doin' we'y fine. Co'se, he cain' walk fo' sev'l days wiv dem laigs
o' his'n, but--"

"Then, in heaven's name, how are we to get to Edelweiss?"

"He c'n ride, cain't he? Wha's to hindeh him?"

"Quite right. He shall ride inside the coach. Go and see if I can do
anything for him."

Aunt Fanny returned in a few minutes.

"He says yo'll do him a great favoh if yo' jes' go to baid. He sends his
'spects an' hopes yo' slumbeh won' be distubbed ag'in."

"He's a perfect brute!" exclaimed Beverly, but she went over and crawled
under the blankets and among the cushions the wounded man had scorned.




CHAPTER VII

SOME FACTS AND FANCIES


There was a soft, warm, yellow glow to the world when Beverly Calhoun
next looked upon it. The sun from his throne in the mountain tops was
smiling down upon the valley the night had ravaged while he was on the
other side of the earth. The leaves of the trees were a softer green,
the white of the rocks and the yellow of the road were of a gentler
tint; the brown and green reeds were proudly erect once more.

The stirring of the mountain men had awakened Aunt Fanny, and she in
turn called her mistress from the surprisingly peaceful slumber into
which perfect health had sent her not so many hours before. At the
entrance to the improvised bedchamber stood buckets of water from the
spring.

"We have very thoughtful chambermaids," remarked Beverly while Aunt
Fanny was putting her hair into presentable shape. "And an energetic
cook," she added as the odor of broiled meat came to her nostrils.

"Ah cain' see nothin' o' dat beastes, Miss Beverly--an'--Ah--Ah got mah
suspicions," said Aunt Fanny, with sepulchral despair in her voice.

"They've thrown the awful thing into the river," concluded Beverly.

"Dey's cookin' hit!" said Aunt Fanny solemnly.

"Good heaven, no!" cried Beverly. "Go and see, this minute. I wouldn't
eat that catlike thing for the whole world." Aunt Fanny came back a few
minutes later with the assurance that they were roasting goat meat. The
skin of the midnight visitor was stretched upon the ground not far away.

"And how is he?" asked Beverly, jamming a hat pin through a helpless
bunch of violets.

"He's ve'y 'spectably skun, yo' highness."

"I don't mean the animal, stupid."

"Yo' mean 'at Misteh Goat man? He's settin' up an' chattin' as if
nothin' happened. He says to me 'at we staht on ouah way jes' as soon as
yo' all eats yo' b'eakfus'. De bosses is hitched up an'--"

"Has everybody else eaten? Am I the only one that hasn't?" cried
Beverly.

"'Ceptin' me, yo' highness. Ah'm as hungry as a poah man's dawg, an'--"

"And he is being kept from the hospital because I am a lazy,
good-for-nothing little--Come on, Aunt Fanny; we haven't a minute to
spare. If he looks very ill, we do without breakfast."

But Baldos was the most cheerful man in the party. He was sitting with
his back against a tree, his right arm in a sling of woven reeds, his
black patch set upon the proper eye.

"You will pardon me for not rising," he said cheerily, "but, your
highness, I am much too awkward this morning to act as befitting a
courtier in the presence of his sovereign. You have slept well?"

"Too well, I fear. So well, in fact, that you have suffered for
it. Can't we start at once?" She was debating within herself whether it
would be quite good form to shake hands with the reclining hero. In the
glare of the broad daylight he and his followers looked more ragged and
famished than before, but they also appeared more picturesquely
romantic.

"When you have eaten of our humble fare, your highness,--the last meal
at the Hawk and Raven."

"But I'm not a bit hungry."

"It is very considerate of you, but equally unreasonable. You must eat
before we start."

"I can't bear the thought of your suffering when we should be hurrying
to a hospital and competent surgeons." He laughed gaily. "Oh, you
needn't laugh. I know it hurts. You say we cannot reach Ganlook before
to-morrow? Well, we can't stop here a minute longer than we--Oh, thank
you!" A ragged servitor had placed a rude bowl of meat and some fruit
before her.

"Sit down here, your highness, and prepare yourself for a long fast. We
may go until nightfall without food. The game is scarce and we dare not
venture far into the hills."

Beverly sat at his feet and daintily began the operation of picking a
bone with her pretty fingers teeth. "I am sorry we have no knives and
forks" he apologized.

"I don't mind"' said she. "I wish you would remove that black patch."

"Alas, I must resume the hated disguise. A chance enemy might recognize
me."

"Your--your clothes have been mended," she remarked with a furtive
glance at his long legs. The trousers had been rudely sewed up and no
bandages were visible. "Are you--your legs terribly hurt???"

"They are badly scratched, but not seriously. The bandages are skilfully
placed," he added, seeing her look of doubt. "Ravone is a genius."

"Well, I'll hurry," she said, blushing deeply. Goat-hunter though he was
and she a princess, his eyes gleamed with the joy of her beauty and his
heart thumped with a most unruly admiration. "You were very, very brave
last night," she said at last--and her rescuer smiled contentedly.

She was not long in finishing the rude but wholesome meal, and then
announced her readiness to be on the way. With the authority of a
genuine princess she commanded him to ride inside the coach, gave
incomprehensible directions to the driver and to the escort, and would
listen to none of his protestations. When the clumsy vehicle was again
in the highway and bumping over the ridges of flint, the goat-hunter was
beside his princess on the rear seat, his feet upon the opposite
cushions near Aunt Fanny, a well-arranged bridge of boxes and bags
providing support for his long legs.

"We want to go to a hospital," Beverly had said to the driver, very much
as she might have spoken had she been in Washington. She was standing
bravely beside the forewheel, her face flushed and eager. Baldos, from
his serene position on the cushions, watched her with kindling eyes. The
grizzled driver grinned and shook his head despairingly. "Oh, pshaw! You
don't understand, do you? Hospital--h-o-s-p-i-t-a-l," she spelt it out
for him, and still he shook his head. Others in the motley retinue were
smiling broadly.

"Speak to him in your own language, your highness, and he will be sure
to understand," ventured the patient.

"I am speaking in my--I mean, I prefer to speak in English. Please tell
him to go to a hospital," she said confusedly. Baldos gave a few jovial
instructions, and then the raggedest courtier of them all handed Beverly
into the carriage with a grace that amazed her.

"You are the most remarkable goat-hunters I have ever seen," she
remarked in sincere wonder.

"And you speak the most perfect English I've ever heard," he replied.

"Oh, do you really think so? Miss Grimes used to say I was hopeless. You
know I had a--a tutor," she hastily explained. "Don't you think it
strange we've met no Axphain soldiers?" she went on, changing the
subject abruptly.

"We are not yet out of the woods," he said.

"That was a purely American aphorism," she cried, looking at him
intently. "Where did you learn all your English?"

"I had a tutor," he answered easily.

"You are a very odd person," she sighed. "I don't believe that you are a
goat-hunter at all."

"If I were not a goat-hunter I should have starved long ago," he
said. "Why do you doubt me?"

"Simply because you treat me one moment as if I were a princess, and the
next as if I were a child. Humble goat-hunters do not forget their
station in life."

"I have much to learn of the deference due to queens," he said.

"That's just like 'The Mikado' or 'Pinafore,'" she exclaimed. "I believe
you are a comic-opera brigand or a pirate chieftain, after all."

"I am a lowly outcast," he smiled.

"Well, I've decided to take you into Edelweiss and--"

"Pardon me, your highness," he said firmly, "That cannot be. I shall not
go to Edelweiss."

"But I command you--"

"It's very kind of you, but I cannot enter a hospital--not even at
Ganlook. I may as well confess that I am a hunted man and that the
instructions are to take me dead or alive."

"Impossible!" she gasped, involuntarily shrinking from him.

"I have wronged no man, yet I am being hunted down as though I were a
beast," he said, his face turning haggard for the moment. "The hills of
Graustark, the plateaus of Axphain and the valleys of Dawsbergen are
alive with men who are bent on ending my unhappy but inconvenient
existence. It would be suicide for me to enter any one of your towns or
cities. Even you could not protect me, I fear."

"This sounds like a dream. Oh, dear me, you don't look like a hardened
criminal," she cried.

"I am the humble leader of a faithful band who will die with me when the
time comes. We are not criminals, your highness. In return for what
service I may have performed for you, I implore you to question me no
further. Let me be your slave up to the walls of Ganlook, and then you
may forget Baldos, the goat-hunter."

"I never can forget you," she cried, touching his injured arm
gently. "Will you forget the one who gave you this wound?"

"It is a very gentle wound, and I love it so that I pray it may never
heal." She looked away suddenly.

"Tell me one thing," she said, a mist coming over her eyes. "You say
they are hunting you to the death. Then--then your fault must be a
grievous one. Have you--have you killed a man?" she added hastily. He
was silent for a long time.

"I fear I have killed more than one man," he said in low tones. Again
she shrank into the corner of the coach. "History says that your father
was a brave soldier and fought in many battles," he went on.

"Yes," she said, thinking of Major George Calhoun.

"He killed men then, perhaps, as I have killed them," he said.

"Oh, my father never killed a man!" cried Beverly, in devout horror.

"Yet Graustark reveres his mighty prowess on the field of battle," said
he, half laconically.

"Oh," she murmured, remembering that she was now the daughter of
Yetive's father. "I see. You are not a--a--a mere murderer, then?"

"No. I have been a soldier--that is all."

"Thank heaven!" she murmured, and was no longer afraid of
him. "Would--would a pardon be of any especial benefit to you?" she
asked, wondering how far her influence might go with the Princess
Yetive.

"It is beyond your power to help me," he said gravely. She was silent,
but it was the silence of deep reflection. "Your highness left the
castle ten days ago," he said, dismissing himself as a subject for
conversation. "Have you kept in close communication with Edelweiss
during that time?"

"I know nothing of what is going on there," she said, quite
truthfully. She only knew that she had sent a message to the Princess
Yetive, apprising her of her arrival In St. Petersburg and of her
intention to leave soon for the Graustark capital.

"Then you do not know that Mr. Lorry is still on the Dawsbergen frontier
in conference with representatives from Serros. He may not return for a
week, so Colonel Quinnox brings back word."

"It's news to me," murmured Beverly.

"You do not seem to be alarmed," he ventured. "Yet I fancy it is not a
dangerous mission, although Prince Gabriel is ready to battle at a
moment's notice."

"I have the utmost confidence in Mr. Lorry," said Beverly, with proper
pride.

"Baron Dangloss, your minister of police, is in these mountains watching
the operations of Axphain scouts and spies."

"Is he? You are very well posted, it seems."

"Moreover, the Axphainians are planning to attack Ganlook upon the first
signal from their ruler. I do not wish to alarm your highness, but we
may as well expect trouble before we come to the Ganlook gates You are
known to be in the pass, and I am certain an effort will be made to take
possession of your person."

"They wouldn't dare!" she exclaimed. "Uncle Sam would annihilate them In
a week."

"Uncle Sam? Is he related to your Aunt Fanny? I'm afraid he could do
but little against Volga's fighting men," he said, with a smile.

"They'd soon find out who Uncle Sam is if they touch me," she threatened
grandly. He seemed puzzled, but was too polite to press her for
explanations. "But, he is a long way off and couldn't do much if we were
suddenly attacked from ambush, could he? What would they do to me if I
were taken, as you suggest?" she was more concerned than she appeared to
be.

"With you in their hands, Graustark would be utterly helpless. Volga
could demand anything she liked, and your ministry would be forced to
submit."

"I really think it would be a capital joke on the Princess Volga," mused
Beverly reflectively. He did not know what she meant, but regarded her
soft smile as the clear title to the serenity of a princess.

She sank back and gave herself over to the complications that were
likely to grow out of her involuntary deception. The one thing which
worried her more than all others was the fear that Yetive might not be
in Edelweiss. According to all reports, she had lately been in
St. Petersburg and the mere fact that she was supposed to be traveling
by coach was sufficient proof that she was not at her capital. Then
there was, of course, the possibility of trouble on the road with the
Axphain scouts, but Beverly enjoyed the optimism of youth and
civilization.

Baldos, the goat-hunter, was dreamily thinking of the beautiful young
woman at his side and of the queer freak Fortune had played in bringing
them together. As he studied her face he could not but lament that
marriage, at least, established a barrier between her and the advances
his bold heart might otherwise be willing to risk. His black hair
straggled down over his forehead and his dark eyes--the patch had been
surreptitiously lifted--were unusually pensive.

"It is strange that you live in Graustark and have not seen its
princess--before," she said, laying groundwork for enquiry concerning
the acts and whereabouts of the real princess.

"May it please your highness, I have not lived long in
Graustark. Besides, it is said that half the people of Ganlook have
never looked upon your face."

"I'm not surprised at that. The proportion is much smaller than I
imagined. I have not visited Ganlook, strange as it may seem to you."

"One of my company fell in with some of your guards from the Ganlook
garrison day before yesterday. He learned that you were to reach that
city within forty-eight hours. A large detachment of men has been sent
to meet you at Labbot."

"Oh, indeed," said Beverly, very much interested.

"They must have been misinformed as to your route--or else your Russian
escort decided to take you through by the lower and more hazardous way.
It was our luck that you came by the wrong road. Otherwise we should not
have met each other--and the lion," he said, smiling reflectively.

"Where is Labbot?" asked she, intent upon the one subject uppermost in
her mind.

"In the mountains many leagues north of this pass. Had you taken that
route instead of this, you would by this time have left Labbot for the
town of Erros, a half-day's journey from Ganlook. Instead of vagabonds,
your escort would have been made up of loyal soldiers, well-fed,
well-clad, and well satisfied with themselves, at least."

"But no braver, no truer than my soldiers of fortune," she said
earnestly. "By the way, are you informed as to the state of affairs in
Dawsbergen?"

"Scarcely as well as your highness must be," he replied.

"The young prince--what's his name?" she paused, looking to him for the
name.

"Dantan?"

"Yes, that's it. What has become of him? I am terribly interested in
him."

"He is a fugitive, they say."

"They haven't captured him, then? Good! I am so glad."

Baldos exhibited little or no interest in the fresh topic.

"It is strange you should have forgotten his name," he said wearily.

"Oh, I do so many ridiculous things!" complained Beverly, remembering
who she was supposed to be. "I have never seen him, you know," she
added.

"It is not strange, your highness. He was educated in England and had
seen but little of his own country when he was called to the throne two
years ago. You remember, of course, that his mother was an
Englishwoman--Lady Ida Falconer."

"I--I think I have heard some of his history--a very little, to be
sure," she explained lamely.

"Prince Gabriel, his half brother, is the son of Prince Louis the Third
by his first wife, who was a Polish countess. After her death, when
Gabriel was two years old, the prince married Lady Ida. Dantan is their
son. He has a sister--Candace, who is but nineteen years of age."

"I am ashamed to confess that you know so much more about my neighbors
than I," she said.

"I lived in Dawsbergen for a little while, and was ever interested in
the doings of royalty. That is a poor man's privilege, you know."

"Prince Gabriel must be a terrible man," cried Beverly, her heart
swelling with tender thoughts of the exiled Dantan and his little
sister.

"You have cause to know," said he shortly, and she was perplexed until
she recalled the stories of Gabriel's misdemeanors at the court of
Edelweiss.

"Is Prince Dantan as handsome as they say he is?" she asked.

"It is entirely a matter of opinion," he replied. "I, for one, do not
consider him at all prepossessing."

The day went on, fatiguing, distressing in its length and its
happenings. Progress was necessarily slow, the perils of the road
increasing as the little cavalcade wound deeper and deeper into the
wilderness. There were times when the coach fairly crawled along the
edge of a precipice, a proceeding so hazardous that Beverly shuddered as
if in a chill. Aunt Fanny slept serenely most of the time, and Baldos
took to dreaming with his eyes wide open. Contrary to her expectations,
the Axphainians did not appear, and if there were robbers in the hills
they thought better than to attack the valorous-looking party. It dawned
upon her finally that the Axphainians were guarding the upper route and
not the one over which she was traveling. Yetive doubtless was
approaching Ganlook over the northern pass, provided the enemy had not
been encountered before Labbot was reached. Beverly soon found herself
fearing for the safety of the princess, a fear which at last became
almost unendurable.

Near nightfall they came upon three Graustark shepherds and learned that
Ganlook could not be reached before the next afternoon. The tired,
hungry travelers spent the night in a snug little valley through which a
rivulet bounded onward to the river below. The supper was a scant one,
the foragers having poor luck in the hunt for food. Daybreak saw them on
their way once more. Hunger and dread had worn down Beverly's supply of
good spirits; she was having difficulty in keeping the haggard,
distressed look from her face. Her tender, hopeful eyes were not so bold
or so merry as on the day before; cheerfulness cost her an effort, but
she managed to keep it fairly alive. Her escort, wretched and
half-starved, never forgot the deference due to their charge, but strode
steadily on with the doggedness of martyrs. At times she was impelled to
disclose her true identity, but discretion told her that deception was
her best safeguard.

Late in the afternoon of the second day the front axle of the coach
snapped in two, and a tedious delay of two hours ensued. Baldos was
strangely silent and subdued. It was not until the misfortune came that
Beverly observed the flushed condition of his face. Involuntarily and
with the compassion of a true woman she touched his hand and brow. They
were burning-hot. The wounded man was in a high fever. He laughed at her
fears and scoffed at the prospect of blood-poisoning and the hundred
other possibilities that suggested themselves to her anxious brain.

"We are close to Ganlook," he said, with the setting of the sun. "Soon
you may be relieved of your tiresome, cheerless company, your highness."

"You are going to a physician," she said, resolutely, alive and active
once more, now that the worst part of the journey was coming to an
end. "Tell that man to drive in a gallop all the rest of the way!"




CHAPTER VIII

THROUGH THE GANLOOK GATES


By this time they were passing the queer little huts that marked the
outskirts of a habitable community. These were the homes of shepherds,
hunters and others whose vocations related especially to the
mountains. Farther on there were signs of farming interests; the homes
became more numerous and more pretentious in appearance. The rock-lined
gorge broadened into a fertile valley; the road was smooth and level, a
condition which afforded relief to the travelers. Ravone had once more
dressed the wounds inflicted by the lion; but he was unable to provide
anything to subdue the fever. Baldos was undeniably ill. Beverly,
between her exclamations of joy and relief at being in sight of Ganlook,
was profuse in her expressions of concern for the hero of the Hawk and
Raven. The feverish gleam in his dark eyes and the pain that marked his
face touched her deeply. Suffering softened his lean, sun-browned
features, obliterating the mocking lines that had impressed her so
unfavorably at the outset. She was saying to herself that he was
handsome after a most unusual cast; it was an unforgetable face.

"Your highness," he said earnestly, after she had looked long and
anxiously at his half-closed eyes, "we are within an hour of Ganlook. It
will be dark before we reach the gates, I know, but you have nothing to
fear during the rest of the trip. Franz shall drive you to the sentry
post and turn over the horses to your own men. My friends and I must
leave you at the end of the mountain road. We are--"

"Ridiculous!" she cried. "I'll not permit it! You must go to a
hospital."

"If I enter the Ganlook gates it will be the same as entering the gates
of death," he protested.

"Nonsense! You have a fever or you wouldn't talk like that. I can
promise you absolute security."

"You do not understand, your highness."

"Nevertheless, you are going to a hospital," she firmly said. "You would
die out here in the wilds, so what are the odds either way? Aunt Fanny,
_will_ you be careful? Don't you know that the least movement of
those bags hurts him?"

"Please, do not mind me, your highness. I am doing very well," he said,
smiling.

The coach brought up in front of a roadside inn. While some of the men
were watering the horses others gathered about its open window. A
conversation in a tongue utterly incomprehensible to Beverly took place
between Baldos and his followers. The latter seemed to be disturbed
about something, and there was no mistaking the solicitous air with
which they regarded their leader. The pseudo-princess was patient as
long as possible and then broke into the discussion.

"What do they want?" she demanded in English.

"They are asking for instructions," he answered.

"Instruct them to do as I bid," she said. "Tell them to hurry along and
get you a doctor; that's all."

Evidently his friends were of the same opinion, for after a long
harangue in which he was obdurate to the last, they left the carriage
and he sank back with a groan of dejection.

"What is it?" she anxiously demanded.

"They also insist that I shall go to a surgeon," he said hopelessly. His
eyes were moist and he could not meet her gaze. She was full of
exultation.

"They have advised me to put myself under your protection, shameless as
that may seem to a man. You and you alone have the power to protect me
if I pass beyond the walls of Ganlook."

"I?" she cried, all a-flutter.

"I could not thrust my head into the jaws of death unless the princess
of Graustark were there to stay their fury. Your royal hand alone can
turn aside the inevitable. Alas, I am helpless and know not what to do."

Beverly Calhoun sat very straight and silent beside the misguided
Baldos. After all, it was not within her power to protect him. She was
not the princess and she had absolutely no influence in Ganlook. The
authorities there could not be deceived as had been these ignorant men
of the hills. If she led him into the city it was decidedly probable
that she might be taking him to his death. She only could petition, not
command. Once at Yetive's side she was confident she could save the man
who had done so much for her, but Ganlook was many miles from Edelweiss,
and there was no assurance that intervention could be obtained in
time. On the other hand, if he went back to the hills he was likely to
die of the poisonous fever. Beverly was in a most unhappy state of
mind. If she confessed to him that she was not the princess, he would
refuse to enter the gates of Ganlook, and be perfectly justified in
doing so.

"But if I should fail?" she asked, at last, a shiver rushing over her
and leaving her cold with dread.

"You are the only hope, your highness. You had better say farewell to
Baldos and let him again seek the friendly valley," said he wearily. "We
can go no farther. The soldiers must be near, your highness. It means
capture if we go on. I cannot expose my friends to the dangers. Let me
be put down here, and do you drive on to safety. I shall fare much
better than you think, for I am young and strong and--"

"No! I'll risk it," she cried. "You must go into the city. Tell them so
and say that I will protect you with my own life and honor."

Fever made him submissive; her eyes gave him confidence; her voice
soothed his fears, if he possessed them. Leaning from the window, he
called his men together. Beverly looked on in wonder as these strange
men bade farewell to their leader. Many of them were weeping, and most
of them kissed his hand. There were broken sentences, tear-choked
promises, anxious inquiries, and the parting was over.

"Where are they going?" Beverly whispered, as they moved away in the
dusk.

"Back into the mountains to starve, poor fellows. God be kind to them,
God be good to them," he half sobbed, his chin dropping to his
breast. He was trembling like a leaf.

"Starve?" she whispered. "Have they no money?"

"We are penniless," came in muffled tones from the stricken leader.

Beverly leaned from the window and called to the departing ones. Ravone
and one other reluctantly approached. Without a word she opened a small
traveling bag and drew forth a heavy purse. This she pressed into the
hand of the student. It was filled with Graustark gavvos, for which she
had exchanged American gold in Russia.

"God be with you," she fervently cried. He kissed her hand, and the two
stood aside to let the coach roll on into the dusky shadows that
separated them from the gates of Ganlook, old Franz still driving--the
only one of the company left to serve his leader to the very end.

"Well, we have left them," muttered Baldos, as though to himself. "I may
never see them again--never see them again. God, how true they have
been!"

"I shall send for them the moment I get to Ganlook and I'll promise
pardons for them all," she cried rashly, in her compassion.

"No!" he exclaimed fiercely. "You are not to disturb them. Better that
they should starve."

Beverly was sufficiently subdued. As they drew nearer the city gates her
heart began to fail her. This man's life was in her weak, incapable
hands and the time was nearing when she must stand between him and
disaster.

"Where are these vaunted soldiers of yours?" he suddenly asked, infinite
irony in his voice.

"My soldiers?" she said faintly.

"Isn't it rather unusual that, in time of trouble and uncertainty, we
should be able to approach within a mile of one of your most important
cities without even so much as seeing a soldier of Graustark?"

She felt that he was scoffing, but it mattered little to her.

"It is a bit odd, isn't it?" she agreed.

"Worse than that, your highness."

"I shall speak to Dangloss about it," she said serenely, and he looked
up in new surprise. Truly, she was an extraordinary princess.

Fully three-quarters of an hour passed before the coach was
checked. Beverly, looking from the windows, had seem the lighted windows
of cottages growing closer and closer together. The barking of roadside
dogs was the only sound that could be heard above the rattle of the
wheels. It was too dark inside the coach to see the face of the man
beside her, but something told her that he was staring intently into the
night, alert and anxious. The responsibility of her position swooped
down upon her like an avalanche as she thought of what the next few
minutes were to bring forth. It was the sudden stopping of the coach and
the sharp commands from the outside that told her probation was at an
end. She could no longer speculate; it was high time to act.

"The outpost," came from Baldos, in strained tones.

"Perhaps they won't know us--you, I mean," she whispered.

"Baron Dangloss knows everybody," he replied bitterly.

"What a horrid old busy-body he--" she started to say, but thought
better of it.

A couple of lanterns flashed at the window, almost blinding her. Aunt
Fanny groaned audibly, but the figure of Baldos seemed to stiffen with
defiance. Uniformed men peered into the interior with more rudeness and
curiosity than seemed respectful to a princess, to say the least. They
saw a pretty, pleading face, with wide gray eyes and parted lips, but
they did not bow in humble submission as Baldos had expected. One of the
men, evidently in command, addressed Beverly in rough but polite
tones. It was a question that he asked, she knew, but she could not
answer him, for she could not understand him.

"What do you want?" she put in English, with a creditable display of
dignity.

"He does not speak English, your highness," volunteered Baldos, in a
voice so well disguised that it startled her. The officer was staring
blankly at her.

"Every officer in my army should and must learn to speak English," she
said, at her wits' end, "I decline to be questioned by the fellow. Will
you talk to him in my stead?"

"I, your highness?" he cried in dismay.

"Yes. Tell him who we are and ask where the hospital is," she murmured,
sinking back with the air of a queen, but with the inward feeling that
all was lost.

"But I don't speak your language well," he protested.

"You speak it beautifully," she said. Baldos leaned forward painfully
and spoke to the officer in the Graustark tongue.

"Don't you know your princess?" he demanded, a trifle harshly. The man's
eyes flew wide open in an instant and his jaw dropped.

"Th--the princess?" he gasped.

"Don't stare like that, sir. Direct us to the main gate at once, or you
will have cause to regret your slowness."

"But the princess was--is coming by the northern pass," mumbled the
man. "The guard has gone out to meet her and--" Baldos cut him off
shortly with the information that the princess, as he could see, had
come by the lower pass and that she was eager to reach a resting-place
at once. The convincing tone of the speaker and the regal indifference
of the lady had full effect upon the officer, who had never seen her
highness. He fell back with a deep obeisance, and gave a few bewildered
commands to his men. The coach moved off, attended by a party of
foot-soldiers, and Beverly breathed her first sigh of relief.

"You did it beautifully," she whispered to Baldos, and he was
considerably puzzled by the ardor of her praise. "Where are we going
now?" she asked.

"Into the city, your highness," he answered. It was beginning to dawn
upon him that she was amazingly ignorant and inconsequential for one who
enjoyed the right to command these common soldiers. Her old trepidation
returned with this brief answer. Something told her that he was
beginning to mistrust her at last. After all, it meant everything to him
and so little to her.

When the coach halted before the city gates she was in a dire state of
unhappiness. In the darkness she could feel the reproachful eyes of old
Aunt Fanny searching for her abandoned conscience.

"Ask if Baron Dangloss is in Ganlook, and, if he is, command them to
take me to him immediately," she whispered to Baldos, a sudden
inspiration seizing her. She would lay the whole matter before the great
chief of police, and trust to fortune. Her hand fell impulsively upon
his and, to her amazement, it was as cold as ice. "What is the matter?"
she cried in alarm.

"You trusted me in the wilds, your highness," he said tensely; "I am
trusting you now." Before she could reply the officer in charge of the
Ganlook gates appeared at the coach window. There were lights on all
sides. Her heart sank like lead. It would be a miracle if she passed the
gates unrecognized.

"I must see Baron Dangloss at once," she cried in English, utterly
disdaining her instructions to Baldos.

"The baron is engaged at present and can see no one," responded the
good-looking young officer in broken English.

"Where is he?" she demanded nervously.

"He is at the home of Colonel Goaz, the commandant. What is your
business with him?"

"It is with him and not with you, sir," she said, imperious once
more. "Conduct me to him immediately."

"You cannot enter the gates unless you--"

"Insolence!" exclaimed Baldos. "Is this the way, sir, in which you
address the princess? Make way for her."

"The princess!" gasped the officer. Then a peculiar smile overspread his
face. He had served three years in the Castle Guard at Edelweiss! There
was a long pause fraught with disaster for Beverly. "Yes, perhaps it is
just as well that we conduct her to Baron Dangloss," he said at
last. The deep meaning in his voice appealed only to the unhappy
girl. "There shall be no further delay, _your highness!_" he added
mockingly. A moment later the gates swung open and they passed
through. Beverly alone knew that they were going to Baron Dangloss under
heavy guard, virtually as prisoners. The man knew her to be an impostor
and was doing only his duty.

There were smiles of derision on the faces of the soldiers when Beverly
swept proudly between the files and up the steps leading to the
commandant's door, but there were no audible remarks. Baldos followed,
walking painfully but defiantly, and Aunt Fanny came last with the
handbag. The guards grinned broadly as the corpulent negress waddled up
the steps. The young officer and two men entered the door with the
wayfarers, who were ordered to halt in the hallway.

"Will your highness come with me?" said the officer, returning to the
hall after a short absence. There was unmistakable derision in his voice
and palpable insolence in his manner. Beverly flushed angrily. "Baron
Dangloss is very _curious_ to see you," he added, with a
smile. Nevertheless, he shrank a bit beneath the cold gleam in the eyes
of the impostor.

"You will remain here," she said, turning to Baldos and the
negress. "And you will have nothing whatever to say to this very
important young man." The "important young man" actually chuckled.

"Follow me, your most royal highness," he said, preceding her through
the door that opened into the office of the commandant. Baldos glared
after them in angry amazement.

"Young man, some day and _soon_ you will be a much wiser soldier
and, in the ranks," said Beverly hotly. The smile instantly receded from
the insolent fellow's face, for there was a world of prophecy in the way
she said it. Somehow, he was in a much more respectful humor when he
returned to the hall and stood in the presence of the tall, flushed
stranger with the ragged uniform.

A short, fierce little man in the picturesque uniform of a Graustark
officer arose as Beverly entered the office. His short beard bristled as
though it were concealing a smile, but his manner was polite, even
deferential. She advanced fearlessly toward him, a wayward smile
struggling into her face.

"I daresay you know I am not the princess," she said composedly. Every
vestige of fear was gone now that she had reached the line of
battle. The doughty baron looked somewhat surprised at this frank way of
opening the interview.

"I am quite well aware of it," he said politely.

"They say you know everyone, Baron Dangloss," she boldly said. "Pray,
who am I?"

The powerful official looked at the smiling face for a moment, his bushy
eyebrows contracting ever so slightly. There was a shameless streak of
dust across her cheek, but there was also a dimple there that appealed
to the grim old man. His eyes twinkled as he replied, with fine
obsequiousness:

"You are Miss Beverly Calhoun, of Washington."




CHAPTER IX

THE REDOUBTABLE DANGLOSS


Beverly's eyes showed her astonishment. Baron Dangloss courteously
placed a chair for her and asked her to be seated.

"We were expecting you, Miss Calhoun," he explained. "Her royal highness
left St. Petersburg but a few hours after your departure, having
unfortunately missed you."

"You don't mean to say that the princess tried to find me in
St. Petersburg?" cried Beverly, in wonder and delight.

"That was one of the purposes of her visit," said he brusquely.

"Oh, how jolly!" cried she, her gray eyes sparkling. The grim old
captain was startled for the smallest fraction of a minute, but at once
fell to admiring the fresh, eager face of the visitor.

"The public at large is under the impression that she visited the Czar
on matters of importance," he said, with a condescending smile.

"And it really was of no importance at all, that's what you mean?" she
smiled back securely.

"Your message informing her highness of your presence in St. Petersburg
had no sooner arrived than she set forth to meet you in that city, much
against the advice of her counsellors. I will admit that she had other
business there but it could have waited. You see, Miss Calhoun, it was a
great risk at this particular time. Misfortune means disaster now. But
Providence was her friend. She arrived safely in Ganlook not an hour
since."

"Really? Oh, Baron Dangloss, where is she?" excitedly cried the
American girl.

"For the night she is stopping with the Countess Rallowitz. A force of
men, but not those whom you met at the gates, has just been dispatched
at her command to search for you in the lower pass. You took the most
dangerous road, Miss Calhoun, and I am amazed that you came through in
safety."

"The Russians chose the lower pass, I know not why. Of course, I was
quite ignorant. However, we met neither brigands nor soldiers, Axphain
or Graustark. I encountered nothing more alarming than a mountain
lion. And that, Baron Dangloss, recalls me to the sense of a duty I have
been neglecting. A poor wanderer in the hills defended me against the
beast and was badly wounded. He must be taken to a hospital at once,
sir, where he may have the proper care."

Whereupon, at his request, she hurriedly related the story of that
trying journey through the mountains, not forgetting to paint the
courage of Baldos in most glowing colors. The chief was deeply
interested in the story of the goat-hunter and his party. There was an
odd gleam of satisfaction in his eyes, but she did not observe it.

"You _will_ see that he has immediate attention, won't you?" she
implored in the end.

"He shall have our deepest consideration," promised he.

"You know I am rather interested, because I shot him, just as if it were
not enough that his legs were being torn by the brute at the time. He
ought not to walk, Baron Dangloss. If you don't mind, I'd suggest an
ambulance," she hurried on glibly. He could not conceal the smile that
her eagerness inspired. "Really, he is in a serious condition. I think
he needs some quinine and whiskey, too, and--"

"He shall have the _best_ of care," interrupted the captain. "Leave
him to me, Miss Calhoun."

"Now, let me tell you something," said she, after due reflection. "You
must not pay any attention to what he says. He is liable to be delirious
and talk in a terrible sort of way. You know delirious people never talk
rationally." She was loyally trying to protect Baldos, the hunted,
against any incriminating statements he might make.

"Quite right, Miss Calhoun," said the baron very gravely.

"And now, I'd like to go to the princess," said Beverly, absolutely sure
of herself. "You know we are great friends, she and I."

"I have sent a messenger to announce your arrival. She will expect you."
Beverly looked about the room in perplexity.

"But there has been no messenger here," she said.

"He left here some minutes before you came. I knew who it was that came
knocking at our gates, even though she traveled as Princess Yetive of
Graustark."

"And, oh! that reminds me, Baron Dangloss, Baldos still believes me to
be the princess. Is it necessary to--to tell him the truth about me?
Just at present, I mean? I'm sure he'll rest much easier if he doesn't
know differently."

"So far as I am concerned, Miss Calhoun, he shall always regard you as a
queen," said Dangloss gallantly.

"Thank you. It's very nice of you to--"

A man in uniform entered after knocking at the door of the room. He
saluted his superior and uttered a few words in his own language.

"Her royal highness is awaiting you at the home of the countess, Miss
Calhoun. A detail of men will escort you and your servant to her place."

"Now, please, Baron Dangloss," pleaded Beverly at the door, "be nice to
him. You know it hurts him to walk. Can't you have him carried in?"

"If he will consent," said he quietly. Beverly hurried into the outer
room, after giving the baron a smile he never forgot. Baldos looked up
eagerly, anxiously.

"It's all right," she said in low tones, pausing for a moment beside his
chair. "Don't get up! Good-bye. I'll come to see you to-morrow. Don't be
in the least disturbed. Baron Dangloss has his instructions."
Impulsively giving him her hand which he respectfully raised to his
lips, she followed Aunt Fanny and was gone.

Almost immediately Baldos was requested to present himself before Baron
Dangloss in the adjoining room. Refusing to be carried in, he resolutely
strode through the door and stood before the grim old captain of police,
an easy, confident smile on his face. The black patch once more covered
his eye with defiant assertiveness.

"They tell me you are Baldos, a goat-hunter," said Baron Dangloss,
eyeing him keenly.

"Yes."

"And you were hurt in defending one who is of much consequence in
Graustark. Sit down, my good fellow." Baldos' eyes gleamed coldly for an
instant. Then he sank into a chair. "While admitting that you have done
Graustark a great service, I am obliged to tell you that I, at least,
know you to be other than what you say. You are not a goat-hunter, and
Baldos is not your name. Am I not right?"

"You have had instructions from your sovereign, Baron Dangloss. Did they
include a command to cross-question me?" asked Baldos
haughtily. Dangloss hesitated for a full minute.

"They did not. I take the liberty of inquiring on my own
responsibility."

"Very well, sir. Until you have a right to question me, I am Baldos and
a goat-hunter. I think I am here to receive surgical treatment."

"You decline to tell me anything concerning yourself?"

"Only that I am injured and need relief."

"Perhaps I know more about you than you suspect, sir."

"I am not in the least interested, Baron Dangloss, in what you know. The
princess brought me into Ganlook, and I have her promise of help and
protection while here. That is all I have to say, except that I have
implicit faith in her word."

Dangloss sat watching him in silence for some time. No one but himself
knew what was going on in that shrewd, speculative mind. At length he
arose and approached the proud fellow in rags.

"You have earned every consideration at our hands. My men will take you
to the hospital and you shall have the best of care. You have served our
princess well. To-morrow you may feel inclined to talk more freely with
me, for I am your friend, Baldos."

"I am grateful for that, Baron Dangloss," said the other simply. Then he
was led away and a comfortable cot in the Ganlook hospital soon held his
long, feverish frame, while capable hands took care of his wounds. He
did not know it, but two fully armed soldiers maintained a careful guard
outside his door under instructions from the head of the police.
Moreover, a picked detail of men sallied forth into the lower pass in
search of the goat-hunter's followers.

In the meantime Beverly was conducted to the home of the Countess
Rallowitz. Her meeting with the princess was most affectionate. There
were tears, laughter and kisses. The whole atmosphere of the place
suggested romance to the eager American girl. Downstairs were the royal
guards; in the halls were attendants; all about were maidservants and
obsequious lackeys, crowding the home of the kindly countess. At last,
comfortable and free from the dust of travel, the two friends sat down
to a dainty meal.

"Oh, I am so delighted," murmured Beverly for the hundredth time.

"I'm appalled when I think of the dangers you incurred in coming to
me. No one but a very foolish American girl could have undertaken such a
trip as this. Dear me, Beverly, I should have died if anything dreadful
had happened to you. Why did you do it?" questioned the princess. And
then they laughed joyously.

"And you went all the way to St. Petersburg to meet me, you dear, dear
Yetive," cried Beverly, so warmly that the attentive servant forgot his
mask of reverence.

"Wasn't it ridiculous of me? I know Gren would have forbidden it if he
had been in Edelweiss when I started. And, more shame to me, the poor
fellow is doubtless at the conference with Dawsbergen, utterly ignorant
of my escapade. You should have heard the ministry--er--ah--" and the
princess paused for an English word.

"Kick?" Beverly supplied.

"Yes. They objected violently. And, do you know, I was finally compelled
to issue a private edict to restrain them from sending an appeal to
Grenfall away off there on the frontier. Whether or no, my uncle
insisted that he should be brought home, a three-days' journey, in order
that he might keep me from going to St. Petersburg. Of course, they
could not disobey my edict, and so poor Gren is none the wiser, unless
he has returned from the conference. If he has, I am sure he is on the
way to Ganlook at this very minute."

"What a whimsical ruler you are," cried Beverly. "Upsetting everything
sensible just to rush off hundreds of miles to meet me. And Axphain is
trying to capture you, too! Goodness, you must love me!"

"Oh, but I _did_ have a trifling affair of state to lay before the
Czar, my dear. To-morrow we shall be safe and sound in the castle and it
will all be very much worth while. You see, Beverly, dear, even
princesses enjoy a diversion now and then. One wouldn't think anything
of this adventure in the United States; it is the environment that makes
it noticeable. Besides, you traveled as a princess. How did you like
it?"

And then the conversation related particularly to the advantages of
royalty as viewed from one side and the disadvantages as regarded from
another. For a long time Beverly had been wondering how she should
proceed in the effort to secure absolute clemency for Baldos. As yet she
had said nothing to Yetive of her promise to him, made while she was a
princess.

"At any rate, I'm sure the goat-hunters would not have been so faithful
and true if they had not believed me to be a princess," said Beverly,
paving the way. "You haven't a man in your kingdom who could be more
chivalrous than Baldos."

"If he is that kind of a man, he would treat any woman as gently."

"You should have heard him call me 'your highness,'" cried Beverly. "He
will loathe me if he ever learns that I deceived him."

"Oh, I think he deceived himself," spoke Yetive easily. "Besides, you
look as much like a princess as I."

"There is something I want to speak very seriously about to you,
Yetive," said Beverly, making ready for the cast. "You see, he did not
want to enter Ganlook with me, but I insisted. He had been so brave and
gallant, and he was suffering so intensely. It would have been criminal
in me to leave him out there in the wilderness, wouldn't it?"

"It would have been heartless."

"So I just made him come along. That was right, wasn't it? That's what
you would have done, no matter who he was or what his objections might
have been. Well, you see, it's this way, Yetive: he is some sort of a
fugitive--not a criminal, you know--but just some one they are hunting
for, I don't know why. He wouldn't tell me. That was perfectly right, if
he felt that way, wasn't it?"

"And he had fought a lion in your defense," supplemented Yetive, with a
schoolgirl's ardor.

"And I had shot him in the arm, too," added Beverly. "So of course, I
just had to be reasonable. In order to induce him to come with me to a
hospital, I was obliged to guarantee perfect safety to him. His men went
back to the hills, all except old Franz, the driver. Now, the trouble is
this, Yetive: I am _not_ the princess and I cannot redeem a single
promise I made to him. He is helpless, and if anything goes wrong with
him he will hate me forever."

"No; he will hate _me_ for I am the princess and he is none the
wiser."

"But he will be told that his princess was Beverly Calhoun, a supposedly
nice American girl. Don't you see how awkward it will be for me? Now,
Yetive, darling, what I wish you to do is to write a note, order or
edict or whatever it is to Baron Dangloss, commanding him to treat
Baldos as a patient and not as a prisoner; and that when he is fully
recovered he is to have the privilege of leaving Ganlook without
reservation."

"But he may be a desperate offender against the state, Beverly."
plaintively protested Yetive. "If we only knew what he is charged with!"

"I'm afraid it's something dreadfully serious," admitted Beverly
gloomily. "He doesn't look like the sort of man who would engage in a
petty undertaking. I'll tell you his story, just as he told it to me,"
and she repeated the meagre confessions of Baldos.

"I see no reason why we should hesitate," said the princess. "By his own
statement, he is not a desperate criminal. You did quite right in
promising him protection, dear, and I shall sustain you. Do you want to
play the princess to Baldos a little longer?"

"I should love it," cried Beverly, her eyes sparkling.

"Then I shall write the order to Dangloss at once. Oh, dear, I have
forgotten, I have no official seal here."

"Couldn't you seal it with your ring?" suggested Beverly. "Oh, I have
it! Send for Baron Dangloss and have him witness your signature. He
can't get away from that, you see, and after we reach Edelweiss, you can
fix up a regular edict, seal and all," cried the resourceful American
girl.

Ink and paper were sent for and the two conspirators lent their wisdom
to the task of preparing an order for the salvation of Baldos, the
fugitive. The order read:

  To BARON JASTO DANGLOSS, COMMANDING THE CIVIC AND MILITARY POLICE OF
  GRAUSTARK:

  "You are hereby informed that Baldos, the man who entered the city
  with Miss Calhoun, is not to be regarded as a prisoner now or
  hereafter. He is to be given capable medical and surgical attention
  until fully recovered, when he is to be allowed to go his way in peace
  unquestioned.

  "Also, he is to be provided with suitable wearing apparel and made
  comfortable in every way.

  "Also, the members of his party, now in the hills (whose names are
  unknown to me), are to be accorded every protection. Franz, the
  driver, is to have his freedom if he desires it.

  "And from this edict there is no recourse until its abatement by royal
  decree.

  "YETIVE."

"There," said the princess, affixing her signature "I think that will be
sufficient." Then she rang for a servant. "Send to Baron Dangloss and
ask him to come here at once."

Fifteen minutes later the chief of police stood in the presence of the
eager young interpreters of justice.

"I want you to witness my signature, Baron Dangloss," said the princess
after the greetings.

"Gladly," said the officer.

"Well, here is where I signed," said Yetive, handing him the paper. "I
don't have to write my name over again, do I?"

"Not at all," said the baron gallantly. And he boldly signed his name as
a witness.

"They wouldn't do that in the United States," murmured Beverly, who knew
something about red tape at Washington.

"It is a command to you, baron," said Yetive, handing him the document
with a rare smile. He read it through slowly. Then he bit his lip and
coughed. "What is the matter, baron?" asked Yetive, still smiling.

"A transitory emotion, your highness, that is all," said he; but his
hand trembled as he folded the paper.




CHAPTER X

INSIDE THE CASTLE WALLS


Bright and early the next morning the party was ready for the last of
the journey to Edelweiss. Less than twenty miles separated Ganlook from
the capital, and the road was in excellent condition. Beverly Calhoun,
tired and contented, had slept soundly until aroused by the princess
herself. Their rooms adjoined each other, and when Yetive, shortly after
daybreak, stole into the American girl's chamber, Beverly was sleeping
so sweetly that the intruder would have retreated had it not been for
the boisterous shouts of stable-boys in the courtyard below the
windows. She hurried to a window and looked out upon the gray-cloaked
morning. Postillions and stable-boys were congregated near the gates,
tormenting a ragged old man who stood with his back against one of the
huge posts. In some curiosity, she called Beverly from her slumbers,
urging the sleepy one to hasten to the window.

"Is this one of your friends from the wilderness?" she asked.

"It's Franz!" cried Beverly, rubbing her pretty eyes. Then she became
thoroughly awake. "What are they doing to him? Who are those ruffians?"
she demanded indignantly.

"They are my servants, and--"

"Shame on them! The wretches! What has old Franz done that they
should--Call to them! Tell 'em you'll cut their heads off if they don't
stop. He's a dear old fellow in spite of his rags, and he--"

The window-sash flew open and the tormentors in the court below were
astonished by the sound of a woman's voice, coming, as it were, from the
clouds. A dozen pairs of eyes were turned upward; the commotion ended
suddenly. In the window above stood two graceful, white-robed
figures. The sun, still far below the ridge of mountains, had not yet
robbed the morning of the gray, dewy shadows that belong to five
o'clock.

"What are you doing to that poor old man?" cried Yetive, and it was the
first time any of them had seen anger in the princess's face. They slunk
back in dismay. "Let him alone! You, Gartz, see that he has food and
drink, and without delay. Report to me later on, sir, and explain, if
you can, why you have conducted yourselves in so unbecoming a manner."
Then the window was closed and the princess found herself in the warm
arms of her friend.

"I couldn't understand a word you said, Yetive? but I knew you were
giving it to them hot and heavy. Did you see how nicely old Franz bowed
to you? Goodness, his head almost touched the ground."

"He was bowing to you, Beverly. You forgot that you are the princess to
him."

"Isn't that funny? I had quite forgotten it--the poor old goose."

Later, when the coaches and escort were drawn up in front of the
Rallowitz palace ready for the start, the princess called the chief
postillion, Gartz, to the step of her coach.

"What was the meaning of the disturbance I witnessed this morning?" she
demanded.

Gartz hung his head. "We thought the man was crazy, your highness. He
had been telling us such monstrous lies," he mumbled.

"Are you sure they were lies?"

"Oh, quite sure, your highness. They were laughable. He said, for one
thing, that it was he who drove your highness's coach into Ganlook last
evening, when everybody knows that I had full charge of the coach and
horses."

"You are very much mistaken, Gartz," she said, distinctly. He blinked
his eyes.

"Your highness," he gasped, "you surely remember--"

"Enough, sir. Franz drove the princess into Ganlook last night. He says
so himself, does he not?"

"Yes, your highness," murmured poor Gartz.

"What more did he say to you?"

"He said he had come from his master, who is in the hospital, to inquire
after your health and to bear his thanks for the kindnesses you have
secured for him. He says his master is faring well and is satisfied to
remain where he is. Also, he said that his master was sending him back
into the mountains to assure his friends that he is safe and to bear a
certain message of cheer to them, sent forth by the princess. It was all
so foolish and crazy, your highness, that we could but jibe and laugh at
the poor creature."

"It is you who have been foolish, sir. Send the old man to me."

"He has gone, your highness," in frightened tones.

"So much the better," said the princess, dismissing him with a wave of
the hand. Gartz went away in a daze, and for days he took every
opportunity to look for other signs of mental disorder in the conduct of
his mistress, at the same time indulging in speculation as to his own
soundness of mind.

Ganlook's population lined the chief thoroughfare, awaiting the
departure of the princess, although the hour was early. Beverly peered
forth curiously as the coach moved off. The quaint, half-oriental
costumes of the townspeople, the odd little children, the bright colors,
the perfect love and reverence that shone in the faces of the multitude
impressed her deeply. She was never to forget that picturesque
morning. Baron Dangloss rode beside the coach until it passed through
the southern gates and into the countryside. A company of cavalrymen
acted as escort. The bright red trousers and top-boots, with the
deep-blue jackets, reminded Beverly more than ever of the operatic
figures she had seen so often at home. There was a fierce, dark cast to
the faces of these soldiers, however, that removed any suggestion of
play. The girl was in ecstasies. Everything about her appealed to the
romantic side of her nature; everything seemed so unreal and so like the
storybook. The princess smiled lovingly upon the throngs that lined the
street; there was no man among them who would not have laid down his
life for the gracious ruler.

"Oh, I love your soldiers," cried Beverly warmly.

"Poor fellows, who knows how soon they may be called upon to face death
in the Dawsbergen hills?" said Yetive, a shadow crossing her face.

Dangloss was to remain in Ganlook for several days, on guard against
manifestations by the Axphainians. A corps of spies and scouts was
working with him, and couriers were ready to ride at a moment's notice
to the castle in Edelweiss. Before they parted, Beverly extracted a
renewal of his promise to take good care of Baldos. She sent a message
to the injured man, deploring the fact that she was compelled to leave
Ganlook without seeing him as she had promised. It was her intention to
have him come to Edelweiss as soon as he was in a condition to be
removed. Captain Dangloss smiled mysteriously, but he had no comment to
make. He had received his orders and was obeying them to the letter.

"I wonder if Grenfall has heard of my harum-scarum trip to
St. Petersburg," reflected Yetive, making herself comfortable in the
coach after the gates and the multitudes were far behind.

"I'll go you a box of chocolate creams that we meet him before we get to
Edelweiss," ventured Beverly.

"Agreed," said the princess.

"Don't say 'agreed,' dear. 'Done' is the word," corrected the American
girl airily.

Beverly won. Grenfall Lorry and a small company of horsemen rode up in
furious haste long before the sun was in mid-sky. An attempt to depict
the scene between him and his venturesome wife would be a hopeless
task. The way in which his face cleared itself of distress and worry was
a joy in itself. To use his own words, he breathed freely for the first
time in hours. "The American" took the place of the officer who rode
beside the coach, and the trio kept up an eager, interesting
conversation during the next two hours.

It was a warm, sleepy day, but all signs of drowsiness disappeared with
the advent of Lorry. He had reached Edelweiss late the night before,
after a three days' ride from the conference with Dawsbergen. At first
he encountered trouble in trying to discover what had become of the
princess. Those at the castle were aware of the fact that she had
reached Ganlook safely and sought to put him off with subterfuges. He
stormed to such a degree, however, that their object failed. The result
was that he was off for Ganlook with the earliest light of day.

Regarding the conference with Prince Gabriel's representatives, he had
but little to say. The escaped murderer naturally refused to surrender
and was to all appearances quite firmly established in power once
more. Lorry's only hope was that the reversal of feeling in Dawsbergen
might work ruin for the prince. He was carrying affairs with a high
hand, dealing vengeful blows to the friends of his half-brother and
encouraging a lawlessness that sooner or later must prove his
undoing. His representatives at the conference were an arrogant,
law-defying set of men who laughed scornfully at every proposal made by
the Graustarkians.

"We told them that if he were not surrendered to our authorities inside
of sixty days we would declare war and go down and take him," concluded
"The American."

"Two months," cried Yetive. "I don't understand."

"There was method in that ultimatum. Axphain, of course, will set up a
howl, but we can forestall any action the Princess Volga may
undertake. Naturally, one might suspect that we should declare war at
once, inasmuch as he must be taken sooner or later. But here is the
point: before two months have elapsed the better element of Dawsbergen
will be so disgusted with the new dose of Gabriel that it will do
anything to avert a war on his account. We have led them to believe that
Axphain will lend moral, if not physical, support to our cause. Give
them two months in which to get over this tremendous hysteria, and
they'll find their senses. Gabriel isn't worth it, you see, and down in
their hearts they know it. They really loved young Dantan, who seems to
be a devil of a good fellow. I'll wager my head that in six weeks
they'll be wishing he were back on the throne again. And just to think
of it, Yetive, dear, you were off there in the very heart of Axphain,
risking everything," he cried, wiping the moisture from his brow.

"It is just eleven days since I left Edelweiss, and I have had a lovely
journey," she said, with one of her rare smiles. He shook his head
gravely, and she resolved in her heart never to give him another such
cause for alarm.

"And in the meantime, Mr. Grenfall Lorry, you are blaming me and hating
me and all that for being the real cause of your wife's escapade," said
Beverly Calhoun plaintively. "I'm awfully sorry. But, you must remember
one thing, sir; I did not put her up to this ridiculous trip. She did it
of her own free will and accord. Besides, I am the one who met the lion
and almost got devoured, not Yetive, if you please."

"I'll punish you by turning you over to old Count Marlanx, the commander
of the army in Graustark," said Lorry, laughingly. "He's a terrible
ogre, worse than any lion."

"Heaven pity you, Beverly, if you fall into his clutches," cried
Yetive. "He has had five wives and survives to look for a sixth. You see
how terrible it would be."

"I'm not afraid of him," boasted Beverly, but there came a time when she
thought of those words with a shudder.

"By the way, Yetive, I have had word from Harry Anguish. He and the
countess will leave Paris this week, if the baby's willing, and will be
in Edelweiss soon. You don't know how it relieves me to know that Harry
will be with us at this time."

Yetive's eyes answered his enthusiasm. Both had a warm and grateful
memory of the loyal service which the young American had rendered his
friend when they had first come to Graustark in quest of the princess;
and both had a great regard for his wife, the Countess Dagmar, who, as
Yetive's lady in waiting, had been through all the perils of those
exciting days with them.

As they drew near the gates of Edelweiss, a large body of horsemen rode
forth to meet them. The afternoon was well on the way to night, and the
air of the valley was cool and refreshing, despite the rays of the June
sun.

"Edelweiss at last," murmured Beverly, her face aglow. "The heart of
Graustark. Do you know that I have been brushing up on my grammar? I
have learned the meaning of the word 'Graustark,' and it seems so
appropriate. _Grau_ is gray, hoary, old; _stark_ is
strong. Old and strong--isn't it, dear?"

"And here rides the oldest and strongest man in all Graustark--the Iron
Count of Marlanx," said Yetive, looking down the road. "See--the strange
gray man in front there is our greatest general, our craftiest fighter,
our most heartless warrior. Does he not look like the eagle or the
hawk?"

A moment later the parties met, and the newcomers swung into line with
the escort. Two men rode up to the carriage and saluted. One was Count
Marlanx, the other Colonel Quinnox, of the Royal Guard. The count, lean
and gray as a wolf, revealed rows of huge white teeth in his perfunctory
smile of welcome, while young Quinnox's face fairly beamed with honest
joy. In the post that he held, he was but following in the footsteps of
his forefathers. Since history began in Graustark, a Quinnox had been in
charge of the castle guard.

The "Iron Count," as he sometimes was called, was past his sixtieth
year. For twenty years he had been in command of the army. One had but
to look at his strong, sardonic face to know that he was a fearless
leader, a savage fighter. His eyes were black, piercing and never quiet;
his hair and close-cropped beard were almost snow-white; his voice was
heavy and without a vestige of warmth. Since her babyhood Yetive had
stood in awe of this grim old warrior. It was no uncommon thing for
mothers to subdue disobedient children with the threat to give them over
to the "Iron Count." "Old Marlanx will get you if you're not good," was
a household phrase in Edelweiss. He had been married five times and as
many times had he been left a widower. If he were disconsolate in any
instance, no one had been able to discover the fact. Enormously rich, as
riches go in Graustark, he had found young women for his wives who
thought only of his gold and his lands in the trade they made with
Cupid. It was said that without exception they died happy. Death was a
joy. The fortress overlooking the valley to the south was no more rugged
and unyielding than the man who made his home within its walls. He lived
there from choice and it was with his own money that he fitted up the
commandant's quarters in truly regal style. Power was more to him than
wealth, though he enjoyed both.

Colonel Quinnox brought news from the castle. Yetive's uncle and aunt,
the Count and Countess Halfont, were eagerly expecting her return, and
the city was preparing to manifest its joy in the most exuberant
fashion. As they drew up to the gates the shouts of the people came to
the ears of the travelers. Then the boom of cannon and the blare of
bands broke upon the air, thrilling Beverly to the heart. She wondered
how Yetive could be so calm and unmoved in the face of all this homage.

Past the great Hotel Regengetz and the Tower moved the gay procession,
into the broad stretch of boulevard that led to the gates of the palace
grounds. The gates stood wide open and inviting. Inside was Jacob
Fraasch, the chief steward of the grounds, with his men drawn up in
line; upon the walls the sentries came to parade rest; on the plaza the
Royal band was playing as though by inspiration. Then the gates closed
behind the coach and escort, and Beverly Calhoun was safe inside the
castle walls. The "Iron Count" handed her from the carriage at the
portals of the palace, and she stood as one in a dream.




CHAPTER XI

THE ROYAL COACH OF GRAUSTARK


The two weeks following Beverly Calhoun's advent into the royal
household were filled with joy and wonder for her. Daily she sent
glowing letters to her father, mother and brothers in Washington,
elaborating vastly upon the paradise into which she had fallen. To her
highly emotional mind, the praises of Graustark had been but poorly
sung. The huge old castle, relic of the feudal days, with its turrets
and bastions and portcullises, Impressed her with a never-ending sense
of wonder. Its great halls and stairways, its chapel, the throne-room,
and the armor-closet; its underground passages and dungeons all united
to fill her imaginative soul with the richest, rarest joys of
finance. Simple American girl that she was, unused to the rigorous
etiquette of royalty, she found embarrassment in the first confusion of
events, but she was not long in recovering her poise.

Her apartments were near those of the Princess Yetive. In the private
intercourse enjoyed by these women, all manner of restraint was
abandoned by the visitor and every vestige of royalty slipped from the
princess. Count Halfont and his adorable wife, the Countess Yvonne, both
of whom had grown old in the court, found the girl and her strange
servant a source of wonder and delight.

Some days after Beverly's arrival there came to the castle Harry Anguish
and his wife, the vivacious Dagmar. With them came the year-old cooing
babe who was to overthrow the heart and head of every being in the
household, from princess down. The tiny Dagmar became queen at once, and
no one disputed her rule.

Anguish, the painter, became Anguish, the strategist and soldier. He
planned with Lorry and the ministry, advancing some of the most
hair-brained projects that ever encouraged discussion in a solemn
conclave. The staid, cautious ministers looked upon him with wonder, but
so plausible did he made his proposals appear that they were forced to
consider them seriously. The old Count of Marlanx held him in great
disdain, and did not hesitate to expose his contempt. This did not
disturb Anguish in the least, for he was as optimistic as the
sunshine. His plan for the recapture of Gabriel was ridiculously
improbable, but it was afterwards seen that had it been attempted much
distress and delay might actually have been avoided.

Yetive and Beverly, with Dagmar and the baby, made merry while the men
were in council. Their mornings were spent in the shady park surrounding
the castle, their afternoons in driving, riding and walking. Oftentimes
the princess was barred from these simple pleasures by the exigencies of
her position. She was obliged to grant audiences, observe certain
customs of state, attend to the charities that came directly under her
supervision, and confer with the nobles on affairs of weight and
importance. Beverly delighted in the throne-room and the underground
passages; they signified more to her than all the rest. She was shown
the room in which Lorry had foiled the Viennese who once tried to abduct
Yetive. The dungeon where Gabriel spent his first days of confinement,
the Tower in which Lorry had been held a prisoner, and the monastery in
the clouds were all places of unusual interest to her.

Soon the people of the city began to recognize the fair American girl
who was a guest in the castle, and a certain amount of homage was paid
to her. When she rode or drove in the streets, with her attendant
soldiers, the people bowed as deeply and as respectfully as they did to
the princess herself, and Beverly was just as grand and gracious as if
she had been born with a sceptre in her hand.

The soft moonlight nights charmed her with a sense of rapture never
known before. With the castle brilliantly illuminated, the halls and
drawing-rooms filled with gay courtiers, the harpists at their posts,
the military band playing in the parade ground, the balconies and
porches offering their most inviting allurements, it is no wonder that
Beverly was entranced. War had no terrors for her. If she thought of it
at all, it was with the fear that it might disturb the dream into which
she had fallen. True, there was little or nothing to distress the most
timid in these first days. The controversy between the principalities
was at a standstill, although there was not an hour in which
preparations for the worst were neglected. To Beverly Calhoun, it meant
little when sentiment was laid aside; to Yetive and her people this
probable war with Dawsbergen meant everything.

Dangloss, going back and forth between Edelweiss and the frontier north
of Ganlook, where the best of the police and secret service watched with
the sleepless eyes of the lynx, brought unsettling news to the
ministry. Axphain troops were engaged in the annual maneuvers just
across the border in their own territory. Usually these were held in the
plains near the capital, and there was a sinister significance in the
fact that this year they were being carried on in the rough southern
extremity of the principality, within a day's march of the Graustark
line, fully two months earlier than usual. The doughty baron reported
that foot, horse and artillery were engaged in the drills, and that
fully 8,000 men were massed in the south of Axphain. The fortifications
of Ganlook, Labbot and other towns in northern Graustark were
strengthened with almost the same care as those in the south, where
conflict with Dawsbergen might first be expected. General Marlanx and
his staff rested neither day nor night. The army of Graustark was
ready. Underneath the castle's gay exterior there smouldered the fire of
battle, the tremor of defiance.

Late one afternoon Beverly Calhoun and Mrs. Anguish drove up in state to
the Tower, wherein sat Dangloss and his watchdogs. The scowl left his
face as far as nature would permit and he welcomed the ladies warmly.

"I came to ask about my friend, the goat-hunter," said Beverly, her
cheeks a trifle rosier than usual.

"He is far from an amiable person, your highness," said the
officer. When discussing Baldos he never failed to address Beverly as
"your highness." "The fever is gone and he is able to walk without much
pain, but he is as restless as a witch. Following instructions, I have
not questioned him concerning his plans, but I fancy he is eager to
return to the hills."

"What did he say when you gave him my message?" asked Beverly.

"Which one, your highness?" asked he, with tantalizing density.

"Why, the suggestion that he should come to Edelweiss for better
treatment," retorted Beverly severely.

"He said he was extremely grateful for your kind offices, but he did not
deem it advisable to come to this city. He requested me to thank you in
his behalf and to tell you that he will never forget what you have done
for him."

"And he refuses to come to Edelweiss?" irritably demanded Beverly.

"Yes, your highness. You see, he still regards himself with disfavor,
being a fugitive. It is hardly fair to blame him for respecting the
security of the hills."

"I hoped that I might induce him to give up his old life and engage in
something perfectly honest, although, mind you, Baron Dangloss, I do not
question his integrity in the least. He should have a chance to prove
himself worthy, that's all. This morning I petitioned Count Marlanx to
give him a place in the Castle Guard."

"My dear Miss Calhoun, the princess has--" began the captain.

"Her highness has sanctioned the request," interrupted she.

"And the count has promised to discover a vacancy," said Dagmar, with a
smile that the baron understood perfectly well.

"This is the first time on record that old Marlanx has ever done
anything to oblige a soul save himself. It is wonderful, Miss
Calhoun. What spell do you Americans cast over rock and metal that they
become as sand in your fingers?" said the baron, admiration and wonder
in his eyes.

"You dear old flatterer," cried Beverly, so warmly that he caught his
breath.

"I believe that you can conquer even that stubborn fellow in Ganlook,"
he said, fumbling with his glasses. "He is the most obstinate being I
know, and yet in ten minutes you could bring him to terms, I am sure.
He could not resist you."

"He still thinks I am the princess?"

"He does, and swears by you."

"Then, my mind is made up. I'll go to Ganlook and bring him back with
me, willy-nilly. He is too good a man to be lost in the hills. Good-bye,
Baron Dangloss. Thank you ever and ever so much. Oh, yes; will you write
an order delivering him over to me? The hospital people may
be--er--disobliging, you know."

"It shall be in your highness's hands this evening."

The next morning, with Colonel Quinnox and a small escort, Beverly
Calhoun set off in one of the royal coaches for Ganlook, accompanied by
faithful Aunt Fanny. She carried the order from Baron Dangloss and a
letter from Yetive to the Countess Rallowitz, insuring hospitality over
night in the northern town. Lorry and the royal household entered
merrily into her project, and she went away with the godspeeds of
all. The Iron Count himself rode beside her coach to the city gates, an
unheard-of condescension.

"Now, you'll be sure to find a nice place for him in the castle guard,
won't you, Count Marlanx?" she said at the parting, her hopes as fresh
as the daisy in the dew, her confidence supreme. The count promised
faithfully, even eagerly. Colonel Quinnox, trained as he was in the
diplomacy of silence, could scarcely conceal his astonishment at the
conquest of the hard old warrior.

Although the afternoon was well spent before Beverly reached Ganlook,
she was resolved to visit the obdurate patient at once, relying upon her
resourcefulness to secure his promise to start with her for Edelweiss on
the following morning. The coach delivered her at the hospital door in
grand style. When the visitor was ushered into the snug little room of
the governor's office, her heart was throbbing and her composure was
undergoing a most unusual strain. It annoyed her to discover that the
approaching contact with an humble goat-hunter was giving her such
unmistakable symptoms of perturbation.

From an upstairs window in the hospital the convalescent but unhappy
patient witnessed her approach and arrival. His sore, lonely heart gave
a bound of joy, for the days had seemed long since her departure.

He had had time to think during these days, too. Turning over in his
mind all of the details in connection with their meeting and their
subsequent intercourse, it began to dawn upon him that she might not be
what she assumed to be. Doubts assailed him, suspicions grew into
amazing forms of certainty. There were times when he laughed
sardonically at himself for being taken in by this strange but charming
young woman, but through it all his heart and mind were being drawn more
and more fervently toward her. More than once he called himself a fool
and more than once he dreamed foolish dreams of her--princess or not. Of
one thing he was sure: he had come to love the adventure for the sake of
what it promised and there was no bitterness beneath his suspicions.

Arrayed in clean linen and presentable clothes, pale from indoor
confinement and fever, but once more the straight and strong cavalier of
the hills, he hastened into her presence when the summons came for him
to descend. He dropped to his knee and kissed her hand, determined to
play the game, notwithstanding his doubts. As he arose she glanced for a
flitting second into his dark eyes, and her own long lashes drooped.

"Your highness!" he said gratefully.

"How well and strong you look," she said hurriedly. "Some of the tan is
gone, but you look as though you had never been ill. Are you quite
recovered?"

"They say I am as good as new," he smilingly answered. "A trifle weak
and uncertain in my lower extremities, but a few days of exercise in the
mountains will overcome all that. Is all well with you and Graustark?
They will give me no news here, by whose order I do not know."

"Turn about is fair play, sir. It is a well-established fact that you
will give _them_ no news. Yes, all is well with me and mine. Were
you beginning to think that I had deserted you? It has been two weeks,
hasn't it?"

"Ah, your highness, I realize that you have had much more important
things to do than to think of poor Baldos, I am exceedingly grateful for
this sign of interest in my welfare. Your visit is the brightest
experience of my life."

"Be seated!" she cried suddenly. "You are too ill to stand."

"Were I dying I should refuse to be seated while your highness stands,"
said he simply. His shoulders seemed to square themselves involuntarily
and his left hand twitched as though accustomed to the habit of touching
a sword-hilt. Beverly sat down instantly; with his usual easy grace, he
took a chair near by. They were alone in the ante-chamber.

"Even though you were on your last legs?" she murmured, and then
wondered how she could have uttered anything so inane. Somehow, she was
beginning to fear that he was not the ordinary person she had judged him
to be. "You are to be discharged from the hospital to-morrow," she added
hastily.

"To-morrow?" he cried, his eyes lighting with joy. "I may go then?"

"I have decided to take you to Edelweiss with me," she said, very much
as if that were all there was to it. He stared at her for a full minute
as though doubting his ears.

"No!" he said, at last, his jaws settling, his eyes glistening. It was a
terrible setback for Beverly's confidence. "Your highness forgets that I
have your promise of absolute freedom."

"But you are to be free," she protested. "You have nothing to fear. It
is not compulsory, you know. You don't have to go unless you really want
to. But my heart is set on having you in--in the castle guard." His
bitter, mocking laugh surprised and wounded her, which he was quick to
see, for his contrition was immediate.

"Pardon, your highness. I am a rude, ungrateful wretch, and I deserve
punishment instead of reward. The proposal was so astounding that I
forgot myself completely," he said.

Whereupon, catching him in this contrite mood, she began a determined
assault against his resolution. For an hour she devoted her whole heart
and soul to the task of overcoming his prejudices, fears and objections,
meeting his protestations firmly and logically, unconscious of the fact
that her very enthusiasm was betraying her to him. The first signs of
weakening inspired her afresh and at last she was riding over him
rough-shod, a happy victor. She made promises that Yetive herself could
not have made; she offered inducements that never could be carried out,
although in her zeal she did not know it to be so; she painted such
pictures of ease, comfort and pleasure that he wondered why royalty did
not exchange places with its servants. In the end, overcome by the
spirit of adventure and a desire to be near her, he agreed to enter the
service for six months, at the expiration of which time he was to be
released from all obligations if he so desired.

"But my friends in the pass, your highness," he said in surrendering,
"what is to become of them? They are waiting for me out there in the
wilderness. I am not base enough to desert them."

"Can't you get word to them?" she asked eagerly. "Let them come into the
city, too. We will provide for the poor fellows, believe me."

"That, at least, is impossible, your highness," he said, shaking his
head sadly. "You will have to slay them before you can bring them within
the city gates. My only hope is that Franz may be here tonight. He has
permission to enter, and I am expecting him to-day or to-morrow."

"You can send word to them that you are sound and safe and you can tell
them that Graustark soldiers shall be instructed to pay no attention to
them whatever. They shall not be disturbed." He laughed outright at her
enthusiasm. Many times during her eager conversation with Baldos she had
almost betrayed the fact that she was not the princess. Some of her
expressions were distinctly unregal and some of her slips were hopeless,
as she viewed them in retrospect.

"What am I? Only the humble goat-hunter, hunted to death and eager for a
short respite. Do with me as you like, your highness. You shall be my
princess and sovereign for six months, at least," he said,
sighing. "Perhaps it is for the best."

"You are the strangest man I've ever seen," she remarked, puzzled beyond
expression.

That night Franz appeared at the hospital and was left alone with Baldos
for an hour or more. What passed between them, no outsider knew, though
there tears in the eyes of both at the parting. But Franz did not start
for the pass that night, as they had expected. Strange news had come to
the ears of the faithful old follower and he hung about Ganlook until
morning came, eager to catch the ear of his leader before it was too
late.

The coach was drawn up in front of the hospital at eight o'clock,
Beverly triumphant in command. Baldos came down the steps slowly,
carefully, favoring the newly healed ligaments in his legs. She smiled
cheerily at him and he swung his rakish hat low. There was no sign of
the black patch. Suddenly he started and peered intently into the little
knot of people near the coach. A look of anxiety crossed his face. From
the crowd advanced a grizzled old beggar who boldly extended his
hand. Baldos grasped the proffered hand and then stepped into the
coach. No one saw the bit of white paper that passed from Franz's palm
into the possession of Baldos. Then the coach was off for Edelweiss, the
people of Ganlook enjoying the unusual spectacle of a mysterious and
apparently undistinguished stranger sitting in luxurious ease beside a
fair lady in the royal coach of Graustark.




CHAPTER XII

IN SERVICE


It was a drowsy day, and, besides, Baldos was not in a communicative
frame of mind. Beverly put forth her best efforts during the forenoon,
but after the basket luncheon had been disposed of in the shade at the
roadside, she was content to give up the struggle and surrender to the
soothing importunities of the coach as it bowled along. She dozed
peacefully, conscious to the last that he was a most ungracious creature
and more worthy of resentment than of benefaction. Baldos was not
intentionally disagreeable; he was morose and unhappy because he could
not help it. Was he not leaving his friends to wander alone in the
wilderness while he drifted weakly into the comforts and pleasures of an
enviable service? His heart was not in full sympathy with the present
turn of affairs, and he could not deny that a selfish motive was
responsible for his action. He had the all too human eagerness to serve
beauty; the blood and fire of youth were strong in this wayward nobleman
of the hills.

Lying back in the seat, he pensively studied the face of the sleeping
girl whose dark-brown head was pillowed against the corner cushions of
the coach. Her hat had been removed for the sake of comfort. The dark
lashes fell like a soft curtain over her eyes, obscuring the merry gray
that had overcome his apprehensions. Her breathing was deep and regular
and peaceful. One little gloved hand rested carelessly in her lap, the
other upon her breast near the delicate throat. The heart of Baldos was
troubled. The picture he looked upon was entrancing, uplifting; he rose
from the lowly state in which she had found him to the position of
admirer in secret to a princess, real or assumed. He found himself again
wondering if she were really Yetive, and with that fear in his heart he
was envying Grenfall Lorry, the lord and master of this exquisite
creature, envying with all the helplessness of one whose hope is blasted
at birth.

The note which had been surreptitiously passed to him in Ganlook lay
crumpled and forgotten inside his coat pocket, where he had dropped it
the moment it had come into his possession, supposing that the message
contained information which had been forgotten by Franz, and was by no
means of a nature to demand immediate attention. Had he read it at once
his suspicions would have been confirmed, and it is barely possible that
he would have refused to enter the city.

Late in the afternoon the walls of Edelweiss were sighted. For the first
time he looked upon the distant housetops of the principal city of
Graustark. Up in the clouds, on the summit of the mountain peak
overlooking the city, stood the famed monastery of Saint
Valentine. Stretching up the gradual incline were the homes of citizens,
accessible only by footpaths and donkey roads. Beverly was awake and
impatient to reach the journey's end. He had proved a most disappointing
companion, polite, but with a baffling indifference that irritated her
considerably. There was a set expression of defiance in his strong,
clean-cut face, the look of a soldier advancing to meet a powerful foe.

"I do hope he'll not always act this way," she was complaining in her
thoughts. "He was so charmingly impudent out in the hills, so
deliciously human. Now he is like a clam. Yetive will think I am such a
fool if he doesn't live up to the reputation I've given him!"

"Here are the gates," he said, half to himself. "What is there in store
for me beyond those walls?"

"Oh, I wish you wouldn't be so dismal," she cried in despair. "It seems
just like a funeral."

"A thousand apologies, your highness," he murmured, with a sudden
lightness of speech and manner. "Henceforth I shall be a most amiable
jester, to please you."

Beverly and the faithful Aunt Fanny were driven to the castle, where the
former bade farewell to her new knight until the following morning, when
he was to appear before her for personal instructions. Colonel Quinnox
escorted him to the barracks of the guards where he was to share a room
with young Haddan, a corporal in the service.

"The wild, untamed gentleman from the hills came without a word, I see,"
said Lorry, who had watched the approach. He and Yetive stood in the
window overlooking the grounds from the princess's boudoir, Beverly had
just entered and thrown herself upon a divan.

"Yes, he's here," she said shortly.

"How long do you, with all your cleverness, expect to hoodwink him into
the belief that you are the princess?" asked Yetive, amused but anxious.

"He's a great fool for being hoodwinked at all," said Beverly, very much
at odds with her protege. "In an hour from now he will know the truth
and will be howling like a madman for his freedom."

"Not so soon as that, Beverly," said Lorry consolingly. "The guards and
officers have their instructions to keep him in the dark as long as
possible."

"Well, I'm tired and mad and hungry and everything else that isn't
compatible. Let's talk about the war," said Beverly, the sunshine in her
face momentarily eclipsed by the dark cloud of disappointment.

Baldos was notified that duty would be assigned to him in the
morning. He went through the formalities which bound him to the service
for six months, listening indifferently to the words that foretold the
fate of a traitor. It was not until his hew uniform and equipment came
into his possession that he remembered the note resting in his
pocket. He drew it out and began to read it with the slight interest of
one who has anticipated the effect. But not for long was he to remain
apathetic. The first few lines brought a look of understanding to his
eyes; then he laughed the easy laugh of one who has cast care and
confidence to the winds. This is what he read:

"She is not the princess. We have been duped. Last night I learned the
truth. She is Miss Calhoun, an American, going to be a guest at the
castle. Refuse to go with her into Edelweiss. It may be a trap and may
mean death. Question her boldly before committing yourself."

There came the natural impulse to make a dash for the outside world,
fighting his way through if necessary. Looking back over the ground, he
wondered how he could have been deceived at all by the unconventional
American. In the clear light of retrospection he now saw how impossible
it was for her to have been the princess. Every act, every word, every
look should have told him the truth. Every flaw in her masquerading now
presented itself to him and he was compelled to laugh at his own
simplicity. Caution, after all, was the largest component part of his
makeup; the craftiness of the hunted was deeply rooted in his being. He
saw a very serious side to the adventure. Stretching himself upon the
cot in the corner of the room he gave himself over to plotting,
planning, thinking.

In the midst of his thoughts a sudden light burst in upon him. His eyes
gleamed with a new fire, his heart leaped with new animation, his blood
ran warm again. Leaping to his feet he ran to the window to re-read the
note from old Franz. Then he settled back and laughed with a fervor that
cleared the brain of a thousand vague misgivings.

"She is Miss Calhoun, an American going to be a guest at the
castle,"--not the princess, but _Miss_ Calhoun. Once more the
memory of the clear gray eyes leaped into life; again he saw her asleep
in the coach on the road from Ganlook; again he recalled the fervent
throbs his guilty heart had felt as he looked upon this fair creature,
at one time the supposed treasure of another man. Now she was Miss
Calhoun, and her gray eyes, her entrancing smile, her wondrous vivacity
were not for one man alone. It was marvelous what a change this sudden
realization wrought in the view ahead of him. The whole situation seemed
to be transformed into something more desirable than ever before. His
face cleared, his spirits leaped higher and higher with the buoyancy of
fresh relief, his confidence in himself crept back into existence. And
all because the fair deceiver, the slim girl with the brave gray eyes
who had drawn him into a net, was not a princess!

Something told him that she had not drawn him into his present position
with any desire to injure or with the slightest sense of malice. To her
it had been a merry jest, a pleasant comedy. Underneath all he saw the
goodness of her motive in taking him from the old life, and putting him
into his present position of trust. He had helped her, and she was ready
to help him to the limit of her power. His position in Edelweiss was
clearly enough defined. The more he thought of it, the more justifiable
it seemed as viewed from her point of observation. How long she hoped to
keep him in the dark he could not tell. The outcome would be
entertaining; her efforts to deceive. If she kept them up, would be
amusing. Altogether, he was ready, with the leisure and joy of youth, to
await developments and to enjoy the comedy from a point of view which
she could not at once suspect.

His subtle efforts to draw Haddan into a discussion of the princess and
her household resulted unsatisfactorily. The young guard was annoyingly
unresponsive. He had his secret instructions and could not be inveigled
into betraying himself. Baldos went to sleep that night with his mind
confused by doubts. His talk with Haddan had left him quite undecided as
to the value of old Franz's warning. Either Franz was mistaken, or
Haddan was a most skilful dissembler. It struck him as utterly beyond
the pale of reason that the entire castle guard should have been
enlisted in the scheme to deceive him. When sleep came, he was
contenting himself with the thought that morning doubtless would give
him clearer insight to the situation.

Both he and Beverly Calhoun were ignorant of the true conditions that
attached themselves to the new recruit. Baron Dangloss alone knew that
Haddan was a trusted agent of the secret service, with instructions to
shadow the newcomer day and night. That there was a mystery surrounding
the character of Baldos, the goat-hunter, Dangloss did not question for
an instant: and in spite of the instructions received at the outset, he
was using all his skill to unravel it.

Baldos was not summoned to the castle until noon. His serene
indifference to the outcome of the visit was calculated to deceive the
friendly but watchful Haddan. Dressed carefully in the close-fitting
uniform of the royal guard, taller than most of his fellows, handsomer
by far than any, he was the most noticeable figure in and about the
barracks. Haddan coached him in the way he was to approach the princess,
Baldos listening with exaggerated intentness and with deep regard for
detail.

Beverly was in the small audience-room off the main reception hall when
he was ushered into her presence. The servants and ladies-in-waiting
disappeared at a signal from her. She arose to greet him and he knelt to
kiss her hand. For a moment her tongue was bound. The keen eyes of the
new guard had looked into hers with a directness that seemed to
penetrate her brain. That this scene was to be one of the most
interesting in the little comedy was proved by the fact that two eager
young women were hidden behind a heavy curtain in a corner of the
room. The Princess Yetive and the Countess Dagmar were there to enjoy
Beverly's first hour of authority, and she was aware of their presence.

"Have they told you that you are to act as my especial guard and
escort?" she asked, with a queer flutter in her voice. Somehow this tall
fellow with the broad shoulders was not the same as the ragged
goat-hunter she had known at first.

"No, your highness," said he, easily. "I have come for instructions. It
pleases me to know that I am to have a place of honor and trust such as
this."

"General Marlanx has told me that a vacancy exists, and I have selected
you to fill it. The compensation will be attended to by the proper
persons, and your duties will be explained to you by one of the
officers. This afternoon, I believe, you are to accompany me on my visit
to the fortress, which I am to inspect."

"Very well, your highness," he respectfully said. He was thinking of
Miss Calhoun, an American girl, although he called her "your highness."
"May I be permitted to ask for instructions that can come only from your
highness?"

"Certainly," she replied. His manner was more deferential than she had
ever known it to be, but he threw a bomb into her fine composure with
his next remark. He addressed her in the Graustark language:

"Is it your desire that I shall continue to address you in English?"

Beverly's face turned a bit red and her eyes wavered. By a wonderful
effort she retained her self-control, stammering ever so faintly when
she said in English:

"I wish you would speak English," unwittingly giving answer to his
question. "I shall insist upon that. Your English is too good to be
spoiled."

Then he made a bold test, his first having failed. He spoke once more in
the native tongue, this time softly and earnestly.

"As you wish, your highness, but I think it is a most ridiculous
practice," he said, and his heart lost none of its courage. Beverly
looked at him almost pathetically. She knew that behind the curtain two
young women were enjoying her discomfiture. Something told her that they
were stifling their mirth with dainty lace-bordered handkerchiefs.

"That will do, sir," she managed to say firmly. "It's very nice of you,
but after this pay your homage in English," she went on, taking a long
chance on his remark. It must have been complimentary, she reasoned. As
for Baldos, the faintest sign of a smile touched his lips and his eyes
were twinkling as he bent his head quickly. Franz was right; she did not
know a word of the Graustark language.

"I have entered the service for six months, your highness," he said in
English. "You have honored me, and I give my heart as well as my arm to
your cause."

Beverly, breathing easier, was properly impressed by this promise of
fealty. She was looking with pride upon the figure of her stalwart
protege.

"I hope you have destroyed that horrid black patch," she said.

"It has gone to keep company with other devoted but deserted friends,"
he said, a tinge of bitterness in his voice.

"The uniform is vastly becoming," she went on, realizing helplessly that
she was providing intense amusement for the unseen auditors.

"It shames the rags in which you found me."

"I shall never forget them, Baldos," she said, with a strange
earnestness in her voice.

"May I presume to inquire after the health of your good Aunt Fanny
and--although I did not see him--your Uncle Sam?" he asked, with a face
as straight and sincere as that of a judge. Beverly swallowed suddenly
and checked a laugh with some difficulty.

"Aunt Fanny is never ill. Some day I shall tell you more of Uncle
Sam. It will interest you."

"Another question, if it please your highness. Do you expect to return
to America soon?"

This was the unexpected, but she met it with admirable composure.

"It depends upon the time when Prince Dantan resumes the throne in
Dawsbergen," she said.

"And that day may never come," said he, such mocking regret in his voice
that she looked upon him with newer interest.

"Why, I really believe you want to go to America," she cried.

The eyes of Baldos had been furtively drawn to the curtain more than
once during the last few minutes. An occasional movement of the long
oriental hangings attracted his attention. It dawned upon him that the
little play was being overheard, whether by spies or conspirators he
knew not. Resentment sprang up in his breast and gave birth to a daring
that was as spectacular as it was confounding. With long, noiseless
strides, he reached the door before Beverly could interpose. She half
started from her chair, her eyes wide with dismay, her lips parted, but
his hand was already clutching the curtain. He drew it aside
relentlessly.

Two startled women stood exposed to view, smiles dying on their amazed
faces. Their backs were against the closed door and two hands clutching
handkerchiefs dropped from a most significant altitude. One of them
flashed an imperious glance at the bold discoverer, and he knew he was
looking upon the real princess of Graustark. He did not lose his
composure. Without a tremor he turned to the American girl.

"Your highness," he said clearly, coolly, "I fear we have spies and
eavesdroppers here. Is your court made up of--I should say, they are
doubtless a pair of curious ladies-in-waiting. Shall I begin my service,
your highness, by escorting them to yonder door?"




CHAPTER XIII

THE THREE PRINCES


Beverly gasped. The countess stared blankly at the new guard. Yetive
flushed deeply, bit her lip in hopeless chagrin, and dropped her eyes. A
pretty turn, indeed, the play had taken! Not a word was uttered for a
full half-minute; nor did the guilty witnesses venture forth from their
retreat. Baldos stood tall and impassive, holding the curtain aside. At
last the shadow of a smile crept into the face of the princess, but her
tones were full of deep humility when she spoke.

"We crave permission to retire, your highness," she said, and there was
virtuous appeal in her eyes. "I pray forgiveness for this indiscretion
and implore you to be lenient with two miserable creatures who love you
so well that they forget their dignity."

"I am amazed and shocked," was all that Beverly could say. "You may go,
but return to me within an hour. I will then hear what you have to say."

Slowly, even humbly, the ruler of Graustark and her cousin passed
beneath the upraised arm of the new guard. He opened a door on the
opposite side of the room, and they went out, to all appearance
thoroughly crestfallen. The steady features of the guard did not relax
for the fraction of a second, but his heart was thumping disgracefully.

"Come here, Baldos," commanded Beverly, a bit pale, but recovering her
wits with admirable promptness. "This is a matter which I shall dispose
of privately. It is to go no further, you are to understand."

"Yes, your highness."

"You may go now. Colonel Quinnox will explain everything," she said
hurriedly. She was eager to be rid of him. As he turned away she
observed a faint but peculiar smile at the corner of his mouth.

"Come here, sir!" she exclaimed hotly. He paused, his face as sombre as
an owl's. "What do you mean by laughing like that?" she demanded. He
caught the fierce note in her voice, but gave it the proper
interpretation.

"Laughing, your highness?" he said in deep surprise. "You must be
mistaken. I am sure that I could not have laughed in the presence of a
princess."

"It must have been a--a shadow, then," she retracted, somewhat startled
by his rejoinder. "Very well, then; you are dismissed."

As he was about to open the door through which he had entered the room,
it swung wide and Count Marlanx strode in. Baldos paused irresolutely,
and then proceeded on his way without paying the slightest attention to
the commander of the army. Marlanx came to an amazed stop and his face
flamed with resentment.

"Halt, sir!" he exclaimed harshly. "Don't you know enough to salute me,
sir?"

Baldos turned instantly, his figure straightening like a flash. His eyes
met those of the Iron Count and did not waver, although his face went
white with passion.

"And who are you, sir?" he asked in cold, steely tones. The count almost
reeled.

"Your superior officer--that should be enough for you!" he half hissed
with deadly levelness.

"Oh, then I see no reason why I should not salute you, sir," said
Baldos, with one of his rare smiles. He saluted his superior officer a
s

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