 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 Groestark, serene, relic of rare old feudal gays. The traveller 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 somber 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 Groestark for a pleasure draught. 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 Groestarkians. From Vienna and other places almost directly west, the way is not so full of thrills, for the railroad skirts the darkest of the danger lands. Once in the heart of Groestark, however, the traveller is charmed into dreams of peace and happiness and paradise. The peasants and the poets sing in one voice and accord, their song 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 Groestark. 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 Groestark, the ancient. Prince and pauper strike hands for love of the land, while outside the great heartless will goes rumbling on, without a thought of the real little principality among the eastern mountains. The point of area, Groestark, is but a might in the great galaxy of nations. Glancing over the map of the world, one is almost sure to miss the infinite simile 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 Groestarkians are a sturdy, courageous race. From the faraway century, when they fought themselves clear of the Tatar yoke to this very hour, they have been warriors of might and valor. The boundaries of their tiny domain were kept in violate for hundreds of years, and but one victorious foe had come down to lay siege to idol-wise, the capital. Axpan, a powerful principality in the north, had conquered Groestark 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 Groestark had been discoursed upon at length in at least one history. Those who have followed that history must know, of course, that the reigning princess, Yeti, 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 travelling incognito through the United States of America. The American, a splendid fellow named Laurie, 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 Yeti to Grenfell Laurie. Suffice it is to say that Laurie won his bride against all wishes and odds at the same time, one an endless love and esteem from the people of the little kingdom among the eastern hills. Two years had passed since that notable wedding in Idawer's. Laurie and his wife, the Princess, made their home in Washington, but spent a few months of each year in Idawer's. During the periods spent in Washington and in travel, her affairs in Grovestark were in the hands of a capable or stare old diplomat, her uncle, Count Caspar Helfont. Princess Volga reigned as regent over the Principality of Exxon to the south by the Principality of Dorsbergen, ruled by young Prince Danton, whose half-brother, the deposed Prince Gabrielle, had been for two years a prisoner in Grovestark, the convicted assassin of Prince Lorenz of Exxon, one time suitor for the Hand of Yeti. It was after the second visit of the lorries to Idawer's that a series turn of affairs presented itself. Gabrielle had succeeded in escaping from his dungeon. His friends in Dorsbergen stirred up a revolution, and Danton was driven from the throne at Ceres. On the arrival of Gabrielle at the capital, the army of Dorsbergen espoused the cause of the prince it had spurned, and three days after his escape, he was on his throne, defying Yeti and offering a prize for the head of the unfortunate Danton, now a fugitive in the hills along the Grovestark frontier. End of Chapter 1 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 Alleghenies, a strong branch of the Calhoun family followed close in their footsteps. The mage'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 Caroliners for a fresh wildlife 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. Battle fields had tested their valour, and drawing rooms had proved their gentility. Major Calhoun had fought with Stonewall Jackson and won his spurs, and at the same time the hardened 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 diets 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. Grinfal Laurie. 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 Graustach's princess, Beverly met the Dukes and Barons from the Far East. It was in the warmth of the Calhoun hospitality that Yateve formed her dearest love for the American people. Ms. 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. Her redditary 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 Ms. 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, you all, show enough, or go long now, 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. Ms. 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 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 Ms. 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 a capital had ever known, less than a fortnight before Congress was to adjourn, the wife of Brynphal Laurie 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 princes had been called to grouse stock. Beverly Calhoun was miserably unhappy. She had heard the story of Gabriel's escape and the consequent probability of a conflict with Axe fame. It did not require a great stretch of imagination to convince her that the lorries were hurrying off to scenes of intrigue, strife, and bloodshed, and that not only grouse stock, but its princes was in jeopardy. Miss Calhoun's most cherished hopes faded with the announcement that trouble, not pleasure, called your tea to Adelweiss. It had been their plan that Beverly should spend the delightful summer months in grouse stock, a guest at the Royal Palace. The original arrangements of the lorries were hopelessly disturbed by the late news from Count Helfont. They were obliged to leave Washington two months earlier than they intended, and they could not take Beverly Calhoun into danger-ridden grouse stock. The contemplated visit to St. Petersburg and other pleasures had to be abandoned, and they were in tears. Yeteev's maids were packing the trunks, and lorries' 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 lorries. So, confessedly, she delayed the preparations. Respectful maids' servants and respectful min' servants 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 hullabaloo could be called peace. Callers came by the dozen, but Yeteev 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. Grinfall lorry was off in town closing up all matters of business that could be dispatched 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 Yeteev'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, Yeteev, 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 Yeteev 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 Yeteev solidly. You see, he is a condemned murderer. Then you want 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 Kaspar sent an envoy to inform Dawesbergen respectfully that Graustach would hold it personally responsible if Gabriel were not surrendered, Gabriel himself replied, Graustach 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. Who, 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 too. Don't post, dear, interrupted your tea with a warm smile. Dawesbergen has a standing army of ten thousand excellent soldiers. With the war reserves, she has twice the available force I can produce. But Yomin is 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 Dawesbergen. 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. Bryn is actually happy over the miserable affair, Beverly. He is full of enthusiasm and positively aching to be in Graustach, 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 Dawesbergen 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 Dawesbergen off the map. 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 you, Teeve. Oh, dear, I wonder what they are doing in Graustach 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. I know 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. Laurie possesses an excellent pair of American eyes, protested Miss Beverly, loyally and very happily. I know, dear, but they are a man's eyes. Now 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 Grouse-Dark, the head of the bridal party, two years before. Yet Tee was finally obliged to place her hand on the enthusiastic visitor's lips. He, she cried, blushing. You make me feel like a—what is it you call her? A dime novel heroine? A yellow-backed girl who 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 lorries 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 Hawkins served dinner for a not-over-talkative young couple. It will be all right, dearest, said Lori, dividing his wife's thoughts as she sat staring rather soberly straight ahead of her. Just as soon as we get to Adelweiss, the whole affair will look so simple that we can laugh at the fears of today. You see, we are a long way off just now. I am only afraid of what might happen before we get there, Grinn, she said simply. He leaned over and kissed her hand, smiling at the imposition 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 Adelweiss's next month general, she announced, with soldierly dignity. Her hearers stared at the picturesque recruit, and Hawkins so far forgot himself as to drop Mr. Laurie's lump of sugar upon the table instead of into the cup. Explain yourself, sergeant, finally fell from Laurie'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 Hawkins 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 plentious 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 lorries. He wanted to know where I'd rather spin the spring, Washington or Lexington, and I told him St. Petersburg. We had a terrific discussion, and neither of us ate a speck at dinner. Mama said it would be all right for me to go to St. Petersburg if Aunt Josephine was still of a mind to go to. You see, auntie was scared almost out of her boots when she heard there was prospect of war in Graustach. 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 your tea, rushing joyously around the table to clasp her in her arms. And St. Petersburg really isn't 100,000 miles from Adelweiss, cried Beverly gaily. It's much less than that, said lorries smiling, but you surely don't expect to come to Adelweiss 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 Graustach. Does your father know that you contemplate such a trip, asked Lori, returning her hand clasp, and looking doubtfully into the swimming blue eyes of his wife? No, he doesn't admit it, Beverly, a triple aggressively. He could stop you, you know, he suggested. Your tea was discreetly silent. But he won't know anything about it, cried Beverly triumphantly. I could tell him, you know, said Lori. No, you couldn't do anything so mean as that, announced Beverly. You're not that sought. End of Chapter 2. Recording by James O'Connor, Randolph, Massachusetts, November, 2009. Chapter 3 of Beverly of Graustach This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Beverly of Graustach by George Barr McCutchen Chapter 3 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 set 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 floated 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 quartet 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 morning 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 collared woman, and a stupendous pile of bags and boxes. The boxes were continually toppling over and the bags were forever getting under the seat 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, as the girl in 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 Radovich, and he had a reputation to sustain. It is another hour, but yet, he managed to inform her with a confident smile. Oh, dear, she sighed, a whole hour of this. We soon bidar, Miss Beverly, just to make up your mind to rest easy like, and we, but the faithful old collared woman's advice was lost in the wrathful exclamation that accompanied another dislodgement 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? I can't say, as to the blue, Miss Beverly, it's a most monstrous bad road, sure enough. Say, up-dar, will ya? Miss Beverly, 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 than to extract a might of information from the officer. Now, for a good old chat, she said, beaming a smile upon the grizzled Russian. 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 Balag was in axe pain, scarcely a mile from the grouse-dark 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 and saw that there was no more 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. Fatique was her only friend in that miserable whole, and Fanny had slept on the floor of her 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. Before breakfast, she said, Good gracious, Aunt Fanny, is that all you think about? Well, honey, you'll all be thinking, modest serious about breakfast, long too it's eleven o'clock. That little tummy of yours would be powerful mad because you didn't. 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 refused to eat another mouthful I'll be down in ten minutes. She was down and less. Sleep, no matter how hard it 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 from the starts. 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 Ganluk, a town in Grouse-Dark, not more than fifteen miles from Edelweiss, and at least two days from Balak. Two competent, exfany and 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 Ganluk. The Russians could go no farther than Ganluk because of a royal edict from Edelweiss forbidding the nearer approach of armed forces. At that town, however, he was sure she could easily obtain an escort of Grouse-Darkian 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 Grouse-Dark. 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, Yatiev, had been in Edelweiss for six weeks. A formal demand was framed soon after her return from America, requiring Dalsbergen to surrender the person of Prince Gabriel to the authorities of Grouse-Dark. To this demand there was no definite response. Dalsbergen instantly requesting time in which to consider the proposition. Axpene immediately sent an envoy to Edelweiss to say that all friendly relations between the two governments would cease unless Grouse-Dark took vigorous steps to recapture the royal assassin. On one side of the unhappy principality, a strong overbearing princess was egging Grouse-Dark on to fight, while on the other side of the aggressive people defied Yatiev to calm 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 Axpene had recently sent a final appeal to the government of Grouse-Dark, and it was no secret that something like a threat accompanied the message. Prince Gabriel was in complete control at Saros and was disposed to laugh at the demands of his late captors. His half-brother, the dethroned Prince Danton, was still hiding in the fastnesses of the hills, protected by a small company of nobles, and there was no hope that he could ever regain his crown. Gabriel's power over the army was supreme. The general public admired Danton, but it was helpless in the face of circumstances. But why should Axpene seek to help Grouse-Dark 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 Axpeneans have hated Grouse-Dark since the last war, and the princess despises this American. It is an open fact that the Duke of Mizrox is in opposition to Princess Volga, and she is sure to have him be headed if the chance affords. He is friendly to Grouse-Dark 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 Lord! she muttered to the boxes and bags. As the coach rolled deeper and deeper into the rock-shattered wilderness, Beverly Cahoon felt an undeniable sensation of all creeping over her. The brave, impetuous girl had plunged Gaely into the project, which now led her into the deadliest of uncertainties, but with 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 the 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 objectively 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 by a trusted servant of the Tsar, 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 always 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 travellers 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 traveller 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 for the leader being as much in the dark as his charge. 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! To do something like this the officer looked bewildered and said nothing and 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 Negroes 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. And Fanny was not so proud and imperious. It was with difficulty that her high strong young mistress suppressed the whales that long had been under restraint in Aunt Fanny's huge and turbulent bosom. Good Lord, Miss Beverly they'll chop us all to pieces and take our jewelry and money and clothes and everything else we done got about us. Good Lord Miss Beverly we ain't got no more show out here in these mountains Dana Be still Aunt Fanny Commander 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 it heaps light more so if we let on we're not one bit afraid they'll respect us don't you see umph grunted Aunt Fanny with exaggerated irony well they never do maintained Beverly who is not at all sure about it and they look like real nice men honest men even though they have such awful whiskers dazed a worse trash I ever did see exploded Aunt Fanny shh don't let them hear you whisper Beverly in spite of her terror and perplexity she was compelled to smile it was also like the forest comedies one sees at the theater 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 refused to ride on he exclaimed speaking rapidly making it still harder for her to understand our advanced guard has met a party of hunters from Axfane they insist that you the fine lady and the coach are the Princess Yateve returning from a secret visit to St. Petersburg where you went to plead for assistance from the Tsar Beverly Cahoon 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 Yateve 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 Axfane 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 Grouse-Dark 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 in Escort all in vain the Axfane 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 Tsar 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 Ganluk but there I can obtain plenty said Beverly shrewdly thinking it better that they should be leave her to be without funds the Cavill-clade had halted during this Klikwi all the men were head conversing sullenly and excitedly with much gesticulation the driver a stallid 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 he would escaped on the way to Siberia disguised as a coachman he was seeking life and safety in grouse-dark or any out of the way place it mattered little to him where the escort concluded to go he was going ahead he dare not go back he must go on at the end of half an hour the officer returns all hope had gone from his face it is useless he cried out the guides refused to proceed see they are going off with their countrymen we are lost without them we do not know what to do we cannot go to Ganluk 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 palm of the saddle their faces wore an ugly look as they passed the officer one of them pointing ahead their sword shouted savagely baylack it was conclusive and convincing they were deserting her oh oh oh the cowards sobbed beaverly 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 at the same time the driver to turn his horses and follow the escort to baylack what is that demanded beaverly an alarm from far off came the sound of firearms a dozen shots were fired and reverberated down through the glimmy 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 listen a minute and then spurred their horses he cried out sharply to the driver come there turn around 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 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 End of Chapter 3 Recording by Katie Riley April 2009 Chapter 4 The Ragged Retinue 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 with repressive 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 father 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 jumble 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 travelled so precipitously overcome by surprise and dismay she could only 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 a head 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 negroes Beverly realised 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 door 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 was 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 valour 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'm powerless I only employ 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 afterlife 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 the might 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 four-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 to no harm to you every man you meet in Groushtark 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 Adelweiss in your present condition you cannot manage these horses and besides you do not know the way aren't you going to rob us he 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 hands toward his companions Beverly looked dubious we live the good clean life of the wilderness outdoor life is necessary for our health we could not live in the city he went on with grim humour 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 I'm 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 a patch I implore you to one say 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 were miles from an inn or house of any kind he went on do you expect to stay here all night I'm not afraid bravely shivered Beverly it is most dangerous I have a revolver the weak little voice went on oh, 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 coloured coloured he asked in amazement what do you mean regress don't you know what a coloured person is you mean she's a slave a black slave we don't own slaves any more he looked more puzzled than ever than 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 then strode off to where a group of his men stood talking is you're dead yet Miss Beverly it's the end came moaned Aunt Fanny Beverly could not repress a smile I'm 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 servants 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 groush dark 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 yet eve why not the humble mountain man you will pardon me but every man in the hills knows that you were to pass through on the way from St. Petersburg to Ganlock 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 Axfane 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 yet eve the news had evidently sped through Axfane 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 groush dark 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 princesses to say 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 should be sufficiently rewarded for your good intentions I oh your highness I am Baldos the goat hunter I reject 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 Washington end of chapter 4 chapter 5 at Beverly of Groestark this is a LibraVox recording all LibraVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibraVox.org 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 a while she found herself analysing the garb and manner of the men she was saying to herself that here were her first real specimens of Groestark peasantry and they were to mark an interfaceable 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 recognise characteristic styles of attire some were in rude baggy costumes of the peasant as she had imagined him others were dressed in the tight fitting but dilipidated uniforms of the soldiery while several were in clothes partly European and partly oriental there were hats and feathers and caps some with feathers in the bands the man nearest the coach wore the dirty grey uniform of as army officer full of holes and wrenches while another strode along in a pair of baggy yellow trousers and a dusty London dinner jacket all in all it was the motleyest band of vagabonds she had ever seen there were at least ten or a dozen in the party while a few carried swords or lugged the long rifles and crooked daggers of the tartars Aunt Fanny everly 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 lord what for Miss Beverly shh don't call me Miss Beverly now just you pay attention 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 farewell your highness she said with fine reverence Aunt Pico did bottle of peppermint for ya if you just don't mind me pulling and hauling amongst these boxes maybe you'll all drubber with this wonderful subterfuge as a shield she dug slowly 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 grey traveling jacket I feel much better now Aunt Fanny she said Aunt Fanny gave a vast chuckle yes ma'am indeed your highness she agreed swirly 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 Hal Delantin quavando a deltoner yo sirrent Peter showing his white teeth in a triumphant smile his exposed eyes seemed to be glowing with pleasure and excitement what? mermint 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 raw stark it is 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 may run together for some hours at least there is that little to offer you in the way of nourishment and there are none of the comforts of the palace yet princesses can no more be choosers than beggars when the fair is in one pot come your highness let me conduct you to the guest chamber at the inn of the hawk and raven Beverly took his hand and stepped to the ground 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 grow stark 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 proceeding Beverly's little right hand was rigidly clutching the revolver in her 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 rebelling in the plight of the shammy the guide's hand was at once firm and gentle he stride bold yet easy with its aggressive red feather towered a full head above Beverly's Parisian violence 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 father's you poor fellow cried Beverly pittingly 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 spore 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 her thoughts went over to the forest of Arden and the woodland home of Brotheland as she had imagined it to be soon they came to her is 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 ball of night ahead yet he had spoken more of this wilderness many an unlucky traveller had been lost forever in its fastness 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 here we are your highness this is the inn at 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 200 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 Brock formed a wide deep canopy underneath which was perfect shelter the floor seemed to be rich grassless loam and here and there were palates of long grass evidently the couches of those 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 the deathly stillness in the air the very loneliness was so appalling that Beverly's poor little heart was in a quiver of red Aunt Fanny who sat nearby had not spoken since leaving the coach but her eyes were expressively active the tall leader of 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 grey uniform that reminded her oddly of the dragoon choruses in the comic operas at home the garments wool torn and soil 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 free's hat was off black and thick was his hair rumpled and apparently uncared for the face was lean smooth and strong with a devil-made 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 grisly 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 viral 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 the fashion young fellows carried the sea 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 at the cave near the opening the walls of the chamber were formed of carried 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 seen none of us until it pleases you she looked in fairly in the eye for a moment and 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 at 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 deeper shame and sorrow that I confess we have no tales 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 humbly 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 the small trunks and Aunt Fanny was laboriously brushing her dark hair it's very jolly being a princess murmured Miss Calhoun she had bathed to her face in one of the leather buckets from the coach and the dust of the road had been brushed away for a slady in waiting yes ma'am Miss Your Highness it's a monstrous find for you but where is your going to sleep out yonder with all those scullowags said Aunt Fanny rebelliously you shall have a bed in here Aunt Fanny said Beverly days they're clear as lot of trunks ah ever did see and ah wouldn't trust them as far as I could eat the brick house but the leader is such a very courteous gentleman remonstrated Beverly yes ma'am he must have came from Gorgia or Camtac was Aunt Fanny's sincere compliment the persuado princess dined with the vagabonds that night she sat on the log beside the tall leader an eight heartily of the broth and royal goat meat and drunk 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 at the Hawken 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 are lucky with the guns today fate was kind to us and to you for we are better prepared to entertain royalty today than at any other time since I have been in the hills of Groestark then you have not always lived in Groestark alas no your highness I have lived elsewhere but you were born in the principality I am a subject princess in heart from this day forth but not by birth or condition I am a native at the vast domain known to a few of us as circumstance and he smiled rather recklessly you are a poet a delicious poet forgetting herself in her enthusiasm perhaps that is why I am hungry and unsure it had not occurred to me when you are ready to retire your highness he said abruptly rising we shall be pleased to consider the inn at 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 your grass near your door I am the porter you have but to call she was tired but she could 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 savoured 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 good night may your highness's dreams be pleasant once he said thank you sir said she and the curtain dropped impertently 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 she 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 at 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 at the chamber door startled she sat bolt upright and strained her eyes to piss the mysterious darkness aunt fanny on her bed of grass stirred convulsively but did not awake the blackness at the strange chamber was broken ever and non both aimed 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 to gog with excitement bevelledly crept from her couch and fell her way to the fluttering doorway drawing aside the blanket 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 nought 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 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 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 bevelledly saw her 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 he's back toward her looking off into the night the wind was growing stronger the breezes fan the night into a rush of shivery coolness constant flickerings of light illuminated the forest transforming the treetops 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 were low the wisps plague-taved would jerk at the lanterns merrily scampering about in the blackness leading her at the revelers in a famous broken scene low moans grew out of the havoc and voices seemed to speak unintelligible whispers to the agitator twigs and leaves the secrets of the wind were being spread upon the records of the night tales of many climbs passed through the years of nature from gentle undulations the marshland reeds swept into lower dips dancefolder minuets lashed each other with infatuated glee mocking the whistle of the wind with an angry swish of their tall bodies around the cornices at 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 missing the ingredients of disaster night birds flapped through the moaning treetops in search of shelter reeds were flattened to the earth bowing to 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 sunk back from the crash she saw him throw his arms aloft as though inviting the elements to mess 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 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 cabin with the deluge came the man from among the stifling robes he snatched her up and bore her away she knew not with her 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 Beldos 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 rain has come to grief however I am sorry to say what a feel 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 and a shriek they are trifles after one gets used to them he said other things much more annoying I assure you a 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 the house is sure to blow down miss your highness grown the trusty maid servant 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 or cushions were dragged far back into the cabin and the rescued blankets though drenched again became a screen do you imagine that I am going in there while the storm rages we 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 spooned by one who now feels it's warmth for the first time said he gallantly your fear is my delight sit upon our throne it was once a humble carriage pale 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 various 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 word your highness he quickly said with a mocking grace that almost angered her he dropped to his knee and for her to be seated she sat down suddenly clapping her hands to her ears and shutting her eyes tightly the crush 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 never before have I seen such a storm have courage your highness it came last but little longer goodness said the real American girl for want of something more expressive your servant has crept into your pouch 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 cabin were his outstretched followers doubtless asleep once more in all this turmoil with the first lull 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 stranger acquaintanceship Beverly observed a downright in this debonair night of the wilds it has slipped up he stammered with a guilty grin his merry insolence was gone his composure with it Beverly laughed with keen enjoyment over the discomforture of the shame-faced vagabond you can't feel 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 all gentlemen 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 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 special reason why you should wear it after dark do you there is no sunlight I'm sure I am dazzled nevertheless he retorted fiddle sticks she said this is a cave not a drawing room in other words I am allowed a not a courtier he smiled well allowed 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 pale 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 it is an addict 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 husband what do you oh yes Garth 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 thunder clap 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 me 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 40 miles to Ganlock and we must be half way there by nightfall must we spend another night like this cry Beverly dolefully alas I fear you must you are 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 a 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 humble you know you speak such excellent English she said irrelevantly he bowed low as he straightened his figure to his amazement he beheld an agonising look of horror on her face her eyes riveted on the mouth of the cabin then there came an angrier sound unlike any that had gone before in that night of turmoil look there quick the cry of terror the girl's palsy lips as she pointed to something behind him awoke the mountain man to instant action instinctively he snatched his long dagger from his 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 became through 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 of fierce growl indicated his fury at finding his shelter his lair occupied my god a mountain lion move on friends to me he cried hoarsely and sprung 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 mustned 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 boulders 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 Beldos 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 haulsely 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 alright take care your dress 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 wince 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 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 for him he's hurt good lord was all the old woman could say but she obeyed her mistress it was easier than it looked your highness mermid Beldos luck was with me the knife went to his heart I am merely scratched his leg was short but he caught me above the knees with his claws alas your highness these trousers of mine were bad enough but now they are in shreds what patching I shall have to do and you may well imagine we are shorter 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 Grawstark's ruler I the poor goat hunter I'll use the line for a pillow and a 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 fella I think I am his first patient Revone attend me he threw himself upon the ground and calmly placed his head upon the body of the animal I assist upon your taking these cushions and I decline irrevocably she stared at him in positive anger trust Revone 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 heartfully wounded astray 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 from where they stood oh oh oh Baldur 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 Revone a hungry looking youth took charge at the wounded leader while her highness retreated to the father's corner at the cabin there she sat and trembled while the wounds were being dressed unthanny, bustled back and forth just 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 cabin's mouth it was all very dreary uncanny and oppressive to poor Beverly now and then she called herself sobbing more out of shame and humiliation than in sadness her had she not shot the man who stepped between her and death what must he think of her he says yo all better go to bed miss Bev yo highness said unthanny after one of her trips oh he does does he snick Beverly I'll go to bed when I please tell him so no no don't do it unthanny tell him I'll go to bed when I'm sure he is quite comfortable not before but he's just a goat puncturer he's a man if there ever was one don't let me hear you call him a goat puncturer again how are his legs unthanny was almost stunned by this amazing question from her ever decorous mistress why don't you answer will they have to be cut off did you see them for the Lord's sake missy cause I did but you all kind of surprised me does pity bad scum up missy de hides peeled up considerable but he'd end dangerous no man just scum at all and his arm where I shot him perfectly trifling man your homeless cobwebs to stop the bleeding and I told him so but that fellow couldn't understand me miss the watch his names he says something to the doc and then they go after the cobwebs sure enough tame bleeding no my missy he's most is the doing very fine cause he can walk for several days with them legs on his butt then in heaven's name to idol wise he can ride carly wants to hinder him quite right he shall ride inside the coach go and see if I can do anything for him unthanny returned in a few minutes he says you'll do him a great favor if you just go to bed he sends his specs and hopes you slumber won't be disturbed again he's a perfect brute but she went over and crawled under the blankets and among the cushions the wounded man had scorned end of chapter 6