 CHAPTER 7 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 tree 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 bed-chamber stood buckets of water from the spring. We have very thoughtful chamber-maids 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. I can't see nothing. A dead beast missed Beverly, and, uh, got my suspicions, said Aunt Fanny, with sepula curl to spare in her voice. They've thrown the awful thing into the river, concluded Beverly. Day's cookin' hit, said Aunt Fanny solemnly. Good heavens know, cried Beverly. Go and see this minute. I wouldn't eat that cat-like 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 very expectably scum, Johannes. I don't mean the animal stupid. You mean that Mr. Goatman? He's settin' up and chattin' as if nothing happened. He says to me, at we stat out all the way just as soon as y'all eats your breakfast. The bosses is hitched up and has everybody else eatin'? Am I the only one that hasn't? cried Beverly. Sceptin' me, Johannes. I'm as hungry as a po-man's dog, and he is being kept from the hospital, because I am a lazy, good-for-nothing little. Come on, Aunt Fanny, we have in a minute to spare. If he looks very ill, we do without breakfast. But Bowdoz 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 cheerly. But, Your Highness, I am much too awkward this morning to act as befitting a courier 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 a 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 Ganlok before tomorrow? 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 dantily began the operation of picking a bone with her pretty finger's 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 have 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 skillfully 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 thumbed 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 four-wheel, her face flushed in eager. Baldos, from his serene position on the cushions, watched her with kindling eyes. The grizzled driver grand 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's strange we've met no Axe-Bane 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 were 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? Simple 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 macaedo, 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 Adelweiss, and— pardon me, your highness, he said formally—that cannot be. I shall not go to Adelweiss. But I command you, it's very kind of you, but I cannot enter a hospital, not even a ganluck. 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 Grailstark, the plateaus of Axfane, and the valleys of Dahlsbergen, 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 Ganluck, 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 fall 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 Yeti's father. I see, you are not 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 special benefit to you, she asked, wondering how far her influence might go with the Princess Yeti? 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, his missing 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 Yeti, 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 Dollsburg infrontier in conference with representatives from Ceros? He may not return for a week, so Colonel Quinnux brings back word. It's news to me, murmured beaverly. You do not seem to be alarmed, you 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 Axfane Scouts and spies. Is he? You are very well posted, it seems. Moreover, the Axfaneans are planning to attack Ganlok 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 Ganlok gates. You are known to be in the past, 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 vulgar fighting men, he said, with a smile. They 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, Grouse Stark 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. Muse 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 Yatiev might not be an Adelweiss. 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 Axfane 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 started 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 foreheads and his dark eyes, the patch had been surreptitiously lifted, were unusually pensive. It is strange that you live in grouse dark and have not seen his princess before, she said, laying groundwork for inquiry concerning the acts and whereabouts of the real princess. May it please your highness, I have not lived long in grouse dark. Besides, it is said that half the people of Ganlok have never looked upon your face. I am not surprised at that. The proportion is much smaller than I imagined. I have not visited Ganlok, strange as it may seem to you. One of my company fell in with some of your guards from the Ganlok garrison day before yesterday. He learned that you were to reach the city within 48 hours. A large detachment of men has been sent to meet you at Lebat. Oh, indeed, said Beverly, very much interested. They must have been misinformed as to your roots, 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 Lebat? asked she, and sent 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 Lebat for the town of Eros, a half day's journey from Ganlok. 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 Dollsburgim? 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. Danton? 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, rarely. Oh, I do 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 English woman, Lady Ida Falconer. 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 III by his first wife, who was a Polish Countess. After her death, when Gabriel was two years old, the prince married Lady Ida. Danton is their son. He has a sister, Candice, who is but 19 years of age. I am ashamed to confess that you know so much more about my neighbors than I, she said. I lived in Dalsburg in 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 Danton and his little sister. You have caused to know, he said shortly, and she was perplexed, until she recalled the stories of Gabriel's misdemeanors at the court of Adelweiss. Is Prince Danton 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 Valarys took to dreaming with his eyes wide open. Contrary to her expectations, the exfaniens did not appear, and, if there were robbers in the hills, they thought better than to attack the Valarys-looking party. It dawned upon her, finally, that the exfaniens were guarding the upper roots, and not the one over which she was traveling. Ytif Dauntless was approaching Ganlok over the northern pass, provided the enemy had not been encountered before LeBot 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 grouse-dark shepherds, and learned that Ganlok 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 escorts, wretched and half-starved, never forgot the deference due to their charge, but stirred steadily on with the doggedness of margers. 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. Bounders was strangely silent and subdued. It was not until the misfortune came that Beverly observed the fleshed 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 prospects of blood poisoning and the hundred other possibilities that suggested themselves to her anxious brain. We are close to Ganlock, 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. End of Chapter 7. Recording by Katie Riley. May 2009. Chapter 8 of Beverly of Grouse-Dark 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 Grouse-Dark by George Barn McCutcheon. Chapter 8. Through the Ganlock 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. Revone 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 Ganlock, 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-brown 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 unforgettable face. Your Highness, he said earnestly, after she had looked long and anxiously at his half-closed eyes, we are within an hour of Ganlock. It will be dark before we reach the gates. I know, but you have nothing to fear during the rest of the trip. Friends 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 ends of the mountain road. We are... Ridiculous, she cried, I'll not permit it. You must go to a hospital. If I enter the Ganlock 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 these 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 till 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 Ganlok. I, she cried, all aflutter. I could not thrust my head into the jaws of death, unless the Princess of Grouse-Dark 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 Ganlok. 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 Yatiev's side, she was confident she could save the man who had done so much for her. But Ganlok was many miles from Adelweiss, 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 Ganlok 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, he said 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 you drive on to safety. I shall fare much better than you think, for I am young and strong, and— No, I'll not 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 hands. 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 students. It was filled with grouse-dark gavos, for which she had exchanged American gold in Russia. God be with you, she fervently cried. He kissed her hands, and the two stood aside to let the coach roll on into the dusky shadows that separated them from the gates of Ganluk. Old Fran 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 Ganluk, 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 drawing near when she must stand between him and disaster. Where are these vaunted soldiers of yours, he asked suddenly, 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 Dan Gloss about it, she said serenely, and he looked up in new surprise. Surely she was an extraordinary princess. Fully three-quarters of an hour passed before the coach was checked. Beverly, looking from the windows, had seen 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 her probation was at an end. She could no longer speculate. It was time to act. The outpost came from Baldos in strained tones. Perhaps they won't know us. You, I mean, she whispered. Bear and Dan Gloss knows everybody, he replied bitterly. What a hard 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 appeared into the interior with more rudeness and curiosity and 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-distinguished 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 wit's ends. I declined 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, 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 grouse-dark 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. 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 his 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 Ganlock, 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 replied tensely. I am trusting you now. Before she could reply, the officer in charge of the Ganlock 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 Adelweiss. 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 a handbag. The guards grand broadly as the corpulence, negrous, waddled up to 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 negrous, and you will have nothing whatever to say to this very important young man. The important young man actually chuckles. 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 a ragged uniform. A short, fierce little man in the picturesque uniform of a grouse-dark 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 dare say, 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 dollty 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 officer 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. End of Chapter 8. Recording by Katie Riley. April 2009 Beverly of Grawstark by George Barth McCutcheon Chapter 9. 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 grey 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 Tsar 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 councillors. I will admit that she had other business there that it could have waited. You see, Miss Calhoun, it was a great risk at this particular time. Miss Fortune means disaster now, but Providence was her friend. She arrived safely in Genn look, 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 Relowitz, 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 Braganes nor soldiers, Axfane or Grovstag. I encountered nothing more alarming than a mountain lion. And that, Baron Dangloss, recalls me to the sense of a duty I had been neglecting. A poor wanderer in the hills depended 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 Baldoss in most glowing colours. 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 cronine 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 Baldoss, 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 travelled as princess Yerthiv of Grawstark. And, oh, that reminds me Baron Dangos, Baldoss still believes me to be the princess. Is it necessary to tell him the truth about me? Just a 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 Dangos gallantly. Thank you. It's very nice of you too. 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 Dangos, 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. Baldoss looked up eagerly, anxiously. It's all right, she said in low tones, pausing for a moment beside his chair. Don't get up, goodbye. I'll come to see you tomorrow. Don't be in the least disturbed. Baron Dangos has his instructions. Impulsively giving him her hand, which he respectfully raised to his lips, she followed Aunt Fanny and was gone. Almost immediately Baldoss was requested to present himself before Baron Dangos 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 Baldoss, a goat hunter, said Baron Dangos, eyeing him keenly. Yes, and you were hurt in defending one who is of much consequence in Grawstar. Sit down, my good fellow. Baldoss eyes gleaned coldly for an instant, then he sunk into a chair. While admitting that you have done Grawstar a great service, I am obliged to tell you that I, at least, know you to be the other than what you say. You are not a goat hunter, and Baldoss is not your name. Am I not right? You have had instructions from your sovereign, Baron Dangos. Did they include a command to cross question me, asked Baldoss, heartily. Dangos 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 Baldoss and a goat hunter. I think I am here to receive surgical treatment. You declined 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 Dangos, in what you know. The princess brought me into Ganlock, 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. Dangos 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. Tomorrow you may feel inclined to talk more freely with me, for I am your friend, Baldoss. I am grateful for that, Baron Dangos, said the other simply. Then he was led away, and a comfortable cot in the Ganlock 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, Relowitz. 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 made servants and obsequious lackeys, crowding the home at 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 am 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? Question the princess, and then they laughed joyously. And you went all the way to St. Petersburg to meet me. You dear, dear Yeti, cried Beverly so warmly that the attentive servant forgot his mask of reverence. Wasn't it ridiculous of me? I know Green would have forbidden it if he had been in idolize when I started, and more shame to me. The poor fellow is doubtless at the conference with Dawesburgen. Utterly ignorant am I escapade. You should have heard the ministry, 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 Grenfell, a way off there on the frontier. Whether or not 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 Ganlock 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. An ax fan 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 Tsar, my dear. Tomorrow we shall be safe and sound in the castle, and it will all be very much worthwhile. 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 travelled 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 Belgos. As yet, she had said nothing to yet have ever promised 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 have a man in your kingdom who could be more chivalrous than Belgos. 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 love me if he ever learns that I deceived him. Oh, I think he deceived himself, spoke yet easily. Besides, you look as much like a princess as I. There is something I want to speak very seriously about to you, Yetith, said Beverly, making ready for the cast. You see, he did not want to enter Ganlok 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 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, Yetith. He is some sort of a fugitive, not a criminal, you know, but just someone 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 line in your defence, supplemented Yetith, with a skill girl'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 friends, the driver. Now, the trouble is this, Yetith. 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 this Princess was Beverly Caloo, a supposedly nice American girl. Don't you see how awkward it will be for me? Now, Yetith, darling, what I wish you to do is to write a note, order, or edit, or whatever it is, to Baron Dankloss, commanding him to treat Beldos as a patient, and not as a prisoner, and that when he is fully recovered, he is to have the privilege of leaving Ganel without reservation. But he may be a desperate offender against the State Beverly, plaintively protested Yetith. 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 meager confessions of Beldos. 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 Beldos a little longer? I should love it, cried Beverly, her eyes sparkling. Then I shall write the order to Dankloss 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 Dankloss and have him witness your signature. He can't get away from that, you see. And after we reach idol-wise, you can fix up a regular edict, seal it 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 Beldos, the fugitive, the Order Red. To Baron Jaster Dankloss, commanding the civic and military police of Grovstag. You are hereby informed that Beldos, 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. Friends, the driver is to have his freedom if he desires it. And from this edict, there is no recourse until it's abatement by royal decree. Yet it. There, said the Princess, affixing her signature, I think that will be sufficient. Then she rung for a servant, sent to Baron Dankloss and asked 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 Dankloss, said the Princess, after the greetings. Gladly, said the Officer. Well, here is where I signed, said Yeti, 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 Yeti, handing him the document with a rare smile. He read it through slowly. Then he bit his lip and copped. What is the matter, Baron, asked Yeti, still smiling. A transitory emotion, your Highness, that is all, said he, bit his hand trembled as he folded the paper. End of Chapter 9 Chapter 10 of Beverly of Groestark 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 Groestark by George Barr McCutcheon Chapter 10 Inside the Castle Walls Bright and early the next morning, the party was ready for the last of the journey to idol-wise. Less than 20 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 Yeti shortly after daybreak, stolen to the American Girls' Chamber, Beverly was sleeping so sweetly that the intruder would have retreated had it not been for the boisterous shouts of stableboys in the courtyard below the windows. She hurried to a window and looked out upon the grey cloaked morning. Postillians and stableboys 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 France! 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 France done that they should call to them? Tell them 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 the mountains, had not yet robbed the morning of the gray, dewy shadows that belonged to five o'clock. What are you doing to that poor old man, cried Yeti, and it was the first time any of them had seen Angra in the princess's face. They slunk back in dismay. Let him alone, you gut! 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, Yeti, but I knew you were giving it to them hot and heavy. Did you see how nicely old friends 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 Relowitz Palace ready for the start, the princess called the chief, Castilian Garts, to the step of her coach. What was the meaning of the disturbance I witnessed this morning, she demanded. Garts hung his head. We thought the man was crazy, Your Highness. He had been telling us some 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 Gandalf last evening, when everybody knows that I had full charge of the coach and horses. You are very much mistaken, Garts, she said distinctly. He blinked his eyes. Your Highness, he gasped. You surely remember. Enough, sir. France drove the princess into Gandalf last night. He says so himself, does he not? Yes, Your Highness, murmured poor Garts. 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 kindness you have secured for him. He says his master is very 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 also foolish and crazy, Your Highness, that we could but dive 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. Garts 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. Gandalf's population line, the chief thoroughfare, awaiting the departure of the princess, although the hour was early, Beverly peered forth curiously as the coach moved on. The quaint, half-oriental costumes of the town's people, the odd little children, the bright colours, 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 Calvary men acted as escort. The bright red trousers and top boots, with the deep blue jackets, reminded Beverly more than ever of the operatic figure 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 playing. The girl was in ecstasies. Everything about her appealed to the romantic side of her nature. Everything seemed so unreal and so liked 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 real life. Oh, I love your soldiers, cried Beverly warmly. Poor fellows, who knows how soon they may be called upon to face death in the Dorsberg and Hills, said Yeti, a shadow crossing her face. Dangloss was to remain in Ganlock for several days, on guard against manifestations by the Expanians. A corpse of spies and scouts were working with him and couriers were ready to ride at a moment's notice to the castle in Idlewise. Before they parted, Beverly extracted a renewal of his promise to take good care at Belgos. She sent a message to the injured man, deploring the fact that she was compelled to leave Ganlock without seeing him as she had promised. It was her intention to have him come to Idlewise 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 Grenfell has heard of my harem-skirim trip to St Petersburg, reflected Yeti, making herself comfortable in the coach after the gates and the multitudes for a far behind. I'll go you a box of chocolate creams that we meet him before we get to Idlewise, ventured Beverly. A greed, said the princess. Don't say a greed, dear. Dunn is the word corrected the American girl airily. Beverly won. Grenfell Lorry and a small company of horsemen rode up in the 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 interest in 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 Idlewise late the night before, after a three days ride from the conference with Dorsvergan. 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 Ganlock 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 Ganlock with the earliest light of day. Regarding the conference with Prince Gabrielle'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 Dorsvergan 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 he's undoing. His representatives at the conference were an arrogant, law-defying set of men who laughed scornfully at every proposal made by the Graw-Starkians. We told them that if he were not surrendered to our authorities inside of 60 days, we would declare war and go down and take him, concluded the American. Two months cried yet another, I don't understand. There was method in that ultimatum, explain, of course, we'll set up a how, but we can forestall any action the princess Volga may undertake. Naturally one might suspect that we should declare war at once, in as much as he must be taken sooner or later. But here is the point, before two months have elapsed, the better element of Dorsbergen will be so disgusted with the new dose of Gabrielle that it will do anything to avert a war on his account. We have led them to believe that Dax Van 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. Gabrielle isn't worth it, you see, and down in their hearts they know it. They really loved young Danton, 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, yet he dear, you were off there in the very heart of Dax Van, risking everything he cried, wiping the moisture from his brow. It is just eleven days since I left idol-wise, 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. Grenfell Laurie, 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 yet if you please. I'll punish you by turning you over to old Count Malinks. The commander of the army in Grawstark, said Laurie laughingly. He's a terrible ogre, worse than any lion. Heaven pity you, Beverly, if you fall into his clutches, cried Yeti. 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, Yeti, I have had word from Harry Anguish. He and Countess will leave Paris this week, if the baby's willing, and will be an idolise soon. You don't know how it released me to know that Harry will be with us at this time. Yeti's eyes answered his enthusiasm. Both had a warm and grateful memory at the loyal service which the young American had rendered his friend when they had first come to Grawstark, in quest of the princess. And both had a great regard for his wife, the Countess Dagmar, who, as Yeti's lady in waiting, had been through all the perils of those exciting days with them. As they drew near the gates of Idolise, a large body of horsemen rode forth to meet them. The afternoon was well on the way to night, and the air at the valley was cool and refreshing, despite the rays of the dune sun. Idolise at last, murmured Beverly, her face aglow, the heart of Grawstark. Do you know that I have been brushing up on my grammar? I have learned the meaning of the word Grawstark, and it seems so appropriate. Graw is gray, hoary, old. Stark is strong, old and strong, isn't it dear? And here comes the oldest and strongest man in all Grawstark, the iron Count of Marlings, said Yeti, 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 Marlings, the other Colonel Quinnix 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 Quinnix'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 begun in Grawstark, a Quinnix had been in the 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 the fearless leader as savage fighter. His eyes were black, piercing and never quiet. His hair and close crop beard were almost snow white. His voice was heavy and without a vestige of warmth. Since her babyhood, yet he 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 Marlings will get you if you're not good, was a household trace in Ida Wise. 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 Grawstark, 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 that 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 Quinnux brought news from the castle, Yetiff's uncle and aunt, the Count and Countess Hellfont, 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 travellers. Then the boom of cannon and the glare at bands broke upon the air, thrilling bevelling to the heart. She wondered how Yetiff could be so calm and unmoved in the face of all this homage. Past the great hotel regentance 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 Frash, the chief steward of the grounds, with his men drawn up in line. Upon the walls, the centuries 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 Coloon 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 GROWSTARK The two weeks following Beverly Coloon'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 minds the praises of grouse stark had been but poorly sung. The huge old castle, relic of the feudal days, with its turrets and bastions and portaculluses, 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 Ytive. 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 Talfens 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 heads 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 Lori and the ministry, advancing some of the most harebrained projects that ever encouraged discussion in a solemn conclave. The staid, cautious ministers looked upon him with wonder, but so plausible did he make his proposals appear that they were forced to consider them seriously. The old Count of Marlanks 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 afterward seen that had it been attempted, much distress and delay might actually have been avoided. Yotif and Beverly, with Dagmar and the baby, made merry while the men were in council. Their mornings were spent in the shady parks 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 Laurie had foiled the Venees, who once tried to abduct Yotif. The dungeon where Gabriel spent his first days of confinement, the tower in which Laurie 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 bound 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 scepter in her hands. The soft moonlit 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 bands playing in the parade grounds, 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 Yateve and her people, this probable war with Dahlsbergen meant everything. Dan Gloss, going back and forth between Edelweiss and the frontier north of Gannlock, were the best of the police and secret service watched with the sleepless eyes of the Lynx, brought unsettling news to the ministry. Axfane soldiers 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 grouse-dark line, fully two months earlier than usual. The Daughty Baron reported that foot, horse, and artillery were engaged in the drills, and that fully 8,000 men were massed in the south of Axfane. The fortifications of Gannlock, LeBotte, and other towns in northern grouse-dark were strengthened with almost the same care as those in the south, where conflict with Dahlsbergen might first be expected. General Marlenx and his staff rested neither day nor night. The army of grouse-dark was ready. Underneath the castle's gay exterior there smoldered the fire of battle, the tremor of defiance. Late one afternoon, Beverly Calhoun, and Mrs. Anguish, drove up in state to the tower, wherein set 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 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 hope 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 Marlanks 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 Marlanks 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 Ganlok, said he, 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 Ganlok and bring him back with me, willy-nilly. He is too good a man to be lost in the hills. Goodbye, 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 Quinex and a small escort, Beverly Calhoun set off in one of the royal coaches for Ganlok, accompanied by faithful Aunt Fanny. She carried the order from Baron Dangloss and the letter from Yotif to the Countess Rallowitz, ensuring hospitality overnight in the northern town. Lori and the royal households entered merely 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 Marlanks? She said at the parting her hopes as fresh as the daisy in the dew, her confidence supreme. The count promised faithfully, even eagerly. Count Quinex, 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 Ganlok, she was resolved to visit the objuret patient at once, relying upon her resourcefulness to secure his promise to start with her for Adelweiss 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 sardiconically 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 caught himself a fool, and more than once he dreamed full of streams 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. A raid 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 hands, 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 have never been ill. Are you quite recovered? They say I am as good as new, he smilingly answered. A trifle week, and uncertain in my lower extremities, but a few days of exercise in the mountains will overcome all that. Is all well with you in Graustark? They will give me no news here, by whose order I do not know. Turnabout is fair-placer. 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 nearby. They were alone in the antechamber. 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 tomorrow, she added hastily. Tomorrow, he cried, his eyes lighting with joy. I may go then. I have decided to take you to Adelweiss with me, she said, very much, as if that were all there was to it. He started her for a full minute, as though doubting his ears. No, he said, at last, his jaw 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 the castle guard. His bitter, mocking laugh, surprised her 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 rewards. The proposal was so astounding that I forgot myself completely, he said. Whereupon, catching him in this contrite mood, she began a determined assault upon 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 roughshod, a happy victor. She made promises that Yt 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 past, 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 grouse-dark soldiers will 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 Balados, 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 Balados for an hour or more. What passed between them, no outsider knew, though there were tears in the eyes of both at the parting. But Franz did not start for the past that night, as they had expected. Strange news had come to the ears of the faithful old follower, and he hung about Ganluck 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. Balados came down the steps slowly, carefully, favoring the newly healed ligaments in his legs. She smiled cheerly at him and 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. No one saw the bit of white paper that passed from Franz's palm into the possession of Balados. Then the coach was all for Adelweiss, the people of Ganluck enjoying the unusual spectacle of a mysterious and apparently undistinguished stranger sitting in luxurious ease beside a fair lady in the royal coach of Grouse Stark.