PART I

I.

A RUNAWAY HORSE

All Lustadt was in an uproar. The mad king had escaped. Little knots of

excited men stood upon the street corners listening to each latest

rumor concerning this most absorbing occurrence. Before the palace a

great crowd surged to and fro, awaiting they knew not what.

For ten years no man of them had set eyes upon the face of the boy-king

who had been hastened to the grim castle of Blentz upon the death of

the old king, his father.

There had been murmurings then when the lad’s uncle, Peter of Blentz,

had announced to the people of Lutha the sudden mental affliction which

had fallen upon his nephew, and more murmurings for a time after the

announcement that Peter of Blentz had been appointed Regent during the

lifetime of the young King Leopold, “or until God, in His infinite

mercy, shall see fit to restore to us in full mental vigor our beloved

monarch.”

But ten years is a long time. The boy-king had become but a vague

memory to the subjects who could recall him at all.

There were many, of course, in the capital city, Lustadt, who still

retained a mental picture of the handsome boy who had ridden out nearly

every morning from the palace gates beside the tall, martial figure of

the old king, his father, for a canter across the broad plain which

lies at the foot of the mountain town of Lustadt; but even these had

long since given up hope that their young king would ever ascend his

throne, or even that they should see him alive again.

Peter of Blentz had not proved a good or kind ruler. Taxes had doubled

during his regency. Executives and judiciary, following the example of

their chief, had become tyrannical and corrupt. For ten years there had

been small joy in Lutha.

There had been whispered rumors off and on that the young king was dead

these many years, but not even in whispers did the men of Lutha dare

voice the name of him whom they believed had caused his death. For

lesser things they had seen their friends and neighbors thrown into the

hitherto long-unused dungeons of the royal castle.

And now came the rumor that Leopold of Lutha had escaped the Castle of

Blentz and was roaming somewhere in the wild mountains or ravines upon

the opposite side of the plain of Lustadt.

Peter of Blentz was filled with rage and, possibly, fear as well.

“I tell you, Coblich,” he cried, addressing his dark-visaged minister

of war, “there’s more than coincidence in this matter. Someone has

betrayed us. That he should have escaped upon the very eve of the

arrival at Blentz of the new physician is most suspicious. None but

you, Coblich, had knowledge of the part that Dr. Stein was destined to

play in this matter,” concluded Prince Peter pointedly.

Coblich looked the Regent full in the eye.

“Your highness wrongs not only my loyalty, but my intelligence,” he

said quietly, “by even so much as intimating that I have any guilty

knowledge of Leopold’s escape. With Leopold upon the throne of Lutha,

where, think you, my prince, would old Coblich be?”

Peter smiled.

“You are right, Coblich,” he said. “I know that you would not be such a

fool; but whom, then, have we to thank?”

“The walls have ears, prince,” replied Coblich, “and we have not always

been as careful as we should in discussing the matter. Something may

have come to the ears of old Von der Tann. I don’t for a moment doubt

but that he has his spies among the palace servants, or even the guard.

You know the old fox has always made it a point to curry favor with the

common soldiers. When he was minister of war he treated them better

than he did his officers.”

“It seems strange, Coblich, that so shrewd a man as you should have

been unable to discover some irregularity in the political life of

Prince Ludwig von der Tann before now,” said the prince querulously.

“He is the greatest menace to our peace and sovereignty. With Von der

Tann out of the way there would be none powerful enough to question our

right to the throne of Lutha—after poor Leopold passes away.”

“You forget that Leopold has escaped,” suggested Coblich, “and that

there is no immediate prospect of his passing away.”

“He must be retaken at once, Coblich!” cried Prince Peter of Blentz.

“He is a dangerous maniac, and we must make this fact plain to the

people—this and a thorough description of him. A handsome reward for

his safe return to Blentz might not be out of the way, Coblich.”

“It shall be done, your highness,” replied Coblich. “And about Von der

Tann? You have never spoken to me quite so—ah—er—pointedly before. He

hunts a great deal in the Old Forest. It might be possible—in fact, it

has happened, before—there are many accidents in hunting, are there

not, your highness?”

“There are, Coblich,” replied the prince, “and if Leopold is able he

will make straight for the Tann, so that there may be two hunting

together in a day or so, Coblich.”

“I understand, your highness,” replied the minister. “With your

permission, I shall go at once and dispatch troops to search the forest

for Leopold. Captain Maenck will command them.”

“Good, Coblich! Maenck is a most intelligent and loyal officer. We must

reward him well. A baronetcy, at least, if he handles this matter

well,” said Peter. “It might not be a bad plan to hint at as much to

him, Coblich.”

And so it happened that shortly thereafter Captain Ernst Maenck, in

command of a troop of the Royal Horse Guards of Lutha, set out toward

the Old Forest, which lies beyond the mountains that are visible upon

the other side of the plain stretching out before Lustadt. At the same

time other troopers rode in many directions along the highways and

byways of Lutha, tacking placards upon trees and fence posts and beside

the doors of every little rural post office.

The placard told of the escape of the mad king, offering a large reward

for his safe return to Blentz.

It was the last paragraph especially which caused a young man, the

following day in the little hamlet of Tafelberg, to whistle as he

carefully read it over.

“I am glad that I am not the mad king of Lutha,” he said as he paid the

storekeeper for the gasoline he had just purchased and stepped into the

gray roadster for whose greedy maw it was destined.

“Why, mein Herr?” asked the man.

“This notice practically gives immunity to whoever shoots down the

king,” replied the traveler. “Worse still, it gives such an account of

the maniacal ferocity of the fugitive as to warrant anyone in shooting

him on sight.”

As the young man spoke the storekeeper had examined his face closely

for the first time. A shrewd look came into the man’s ordinarily stolid

countenance. He leaned forward quite close to the other’s ear.

“We of Lutha,” he whispered, “love our ‘mad king’—no reward could be

offered that would tempt us to betray him. Even in self-protection we

would not kill him, we of the mountains who remember him as a boy and

loved his father and his grandfather, before him.

“But there are the scum of the low country in the army these days, who

would do anything for money, and it is these that the king must guard

against. I could not help but note that mein Herr spoke too perfect

German for a foreigner. Were I in mein Herr’s place, I should speak

mostly the English, and, too, I should shave off the ‘full,

reddish-brown beard.’”

Whereupon the storekeeper turned hastily back into his shop, leaving

Barney Custer of Beatrice, Nebraska, U.S.A., to wonder if all the

inhabitants of Lutha were afflicted with a mental disorder similar to

that of the unfortunate ruler.

“I don’t wonder,” soliloquized the young man, “that he advised me to

shave off this ridiculous crop of alfalfa. Hang election bets, anyway;

if things had gone half right I shouldn’t have had to wear this badge

of idiocy. And to think that it’s got to be for a whole month longer! A

year’s a mighty long while at best, but a year in company with a full

set of red whiskers is an eternity.”

The road out of Tafelberg wound upward among tall trees toward the pass

that would lead him across the next valley on his way to the Old

Forest, where he hoped to find some excellent shooting. All his life

Barney had promised himself that some day he should visit his mother’s

native land, and now that he was here he found it as wild and beautiful

as she had said it would be.

Neither his mother nor his father had ever returned to the little

country since the day, thirty years before, that the big American had

literally stolen his bride away, escaping across the border but a scant

half-hour ahead of the pursuing troop of Luthanian cavalry. Barney had

often wondered why it was that neither of them would ever speak of

those days, or of the early life of his mother, Victoria Rubinroth,

though of the beauties of her native land Mrs. Custer never tired of

talking.

Barney Custer was thinking of these things as his machine wound up the

picturesque road. Just before him was a long, heavy grade, and as he

took it with open muffler the chugging of his motor drowned the sound

of pounding hoof beats rapidly approaching behind him.

It was not until he topped the grade that he heard anything unusual,

and at the same instant a girl on horseback tore past him. The speed of

the animal would have been enough to have told him that it was beyond

the control of its frail rider, even without the added testimony of the

broken bit that dangled beneath the tensely outstretched chin.

Foam flecked the beast’s neck and shoulders. It was evident that the

horse had been running for some distance, yet its speed was still that

of the thoroughly frightened runaway.

The road at the point where the animal had passed Custer was cut from

the hillside. At the left an embankment rose steeply to a height of ten

or fifteen feet. On the right there was a drop of a hundred feet or

more into a wooded ravine. Ahead, the road apparently ran quite

straight and smooth for a considerable distance.

Barney Custer knew that so long as the road ran straight the girl might

be safe enough, for she was evidently an excellent horsewoman; but he

also knew that if there should be a sharp turn to the left ahead, the

horse in his blind fright would in all probability dash headlong into

the ravine below him.

There was but a single thing that the man might attempt if he were to

save the girl from the almost certain death which seemed in store for

her, since he knew that sooner or later the road would turn, as all

mountain roads do. The chances that he must take, if he failed, could

only hasten the girl’s end. There was no alternative except to sit

supinely by and see the fear-crazed horse carry its rider into

eternity, and Barney Custer was not the sort for that role.

Scarcely had the beast come abreast of him than his foot leaped to the

accelerator. Like a frightened deer the gray roadster sprang forward in

pursuit. The road was narrow. Two machines could not have passed upon

it. Barney took the outside that he might hold the horse away from the

dangerous ravine.

At the sound of the whirring thing behind him the animal cast an

affrighted glance in its direction, and with a little squeal of terror

redoubled its frantic efforts to escape. The girl, too, looked back

over her shoulder. Her face was very white, but her eyes were steady

and brave.

Barney Custer smiled up at her in encouragement, and the girl smiled

back at him.

“She’s sure a game one,” thought Barney.

Now she was calling to him. At first he could not catch her words above

the pounding of the horse’s hoofs and the noise of his motor. Presently

he understood.

“Stop!” she cried. “Stop or you will be killed. The road turns to the

left just ahead. You’ll go into the ravine at that speed.”

The front wheel of the roadster was at the horse’s right flank. Barney

stepped upon the accelerator a little harder. There was barely room

between the horse and the edge of the road for the four wheels of the

roadster, and Barney must be very careful not to touch the horse. The

thought of that and what it would mean to the girl sent a cold shudder

through Barney Custer’s athletic frame.

The man cast a glance to his right. His machine drove from the left

side, and he could not see the road at all over the right hand door.

The sight of tree tops waving beneath him was all that was visible.

Just ahead the road’s edge rushed swiftly beneath the right-hand

fender; the wheels on that side must have been on the very verge of the

embankment.

Now he was abreast the girl. Just ahead he could see where the road

disappeared around a corner of the bluff at the dangerous curve the

girl had warned him against.

Custer leaned far out over the side of his car. The lunging of the

horse in his stride, and the swaying of the leaping car carried him

first close to the girl and then away again. With his right hand he

held the car between the frantic horse and the edge of the embankment.

His left hand, outstretched, was almost at the girl’s waist. The turn

was just before them.

“Jump!” cried Barney.

The girl fell backward from her mount, turning to grasp Custer’s arm as

it closed about her. At the same instant Barney closed the throttle,

and threw all the weight of his body upon the foot brake.

The gray roadster swerved toward the embankment as the hind wheels

skidded on the loose surface gravel. They were at the turn. The horse

was just abreast the bumper. There was one chance in a thousand of

making the turn were the running beast out of the way. There was still

a chance if he turned ahead of them. If he did not turn—Barney hated to

think of what must follow.

But it was all over in a second. The horse bolted straight ahead.

Barney swerved the roadster to the turn. It caught the animal full in

the side. There was a sickening lurch as the hind wheels slid over the

embankment, and then the man shoved the girl from the running board to

the road, and horse, man and roadster went over into the ravine.

A moment before a tall young man with a reddish-brown beard had stood

at the turn of the road listening intently to the sound of the hurrying

hoof beats and the purring of the racing motor car approaching from the

distance. In his eyes lurked the look of the hunted. For a moment he

stood in evident indecision, but just before the runaway horse and the

pursuing machine came into view he slipped over the edge of the road to

slink into the underbrush far down toward the bottom of the ravine.

When Barney pushed the girl from the running board she fell heavily to

the road, rolling over several times, but in an instant she scrambled

to her feet, hardly the worse for the tumble other than a few

scratches.

Quickly she ran to the edge of the embankment, a look of immense relief

coming to her soft, brown eyes as she saw her rescuer scrambling up the

precipitous side of the ravine toward her.

“You are not killed?” she cried in German. “It is a miracle!”

“Not even bruised,” reassured Barney. “But you? You must have had a

nasty fall.”

“I am not hurt at all,” she replied. “But for you I should be lying

dead, or terribly maimed down there at the bottom of that awful ravine

at this very moment. It’s awful.” She drew her shoulders upward in a

little shudder of horror. “But how did you escape? Even now I can

scarce believe it possible.”

“I’m quite sure I don’t know how I did escape,” said Barney, clambering

over the rim of the road to her side. “That I had nothing to do with it

I am positive. It was just luck. I simply dropped out onto that bush

down there.”

They were standing side by side, now peering down into the ravine where

the car was visible, bottom side up against a tree, near the base of

the declivity. The horse’s head could be seen protruding from beneath

the wreckage.

“I’d better go down and put him out of his misery,” said Barney, “if he

is not already dead.”

“I think he is quite dead,” said the girl. “I have not seen him move.”

Just then a little puff of smoke arose from the machine, followed by a

tongue of yellow flame. Barney had already started toward the horse.

“Please don’t go,” begged the girl. “I am sure that he is quite dead,

and it wouldn’t be safe for you down there now. The gasoline tank may

explode any minute.”

Barney stopped.

“Yes, he is dead all right,” he said, “but all my belongings are down

there. My guns, six-shooters and all my ammunition. And,” he added

ruefully, “I’ve heard so much about the brigands that infest these

mountains.”

The girl laughed.

“Those stories are really exaggerated,” she said. “I was born in Lutha,

and except for a few months each year have always lived here, and

though I ride much I have never seen a brigand. You need not be

afraid.”

Barney Custer looked up at her quickly, and then he grinned. His only

fear had been that he would not meet brigands, for Mr. Bernard Custer,

Jr., was young and the spirit of Romance and Adventure breathed strong

within him.

“Why do you smile?” asked the girl.

“At our dilemma,” evaded Barney. “Have you paused to consider our

situation?”

The girl smiled, too.

“It is most unconventional,” she said. “On foot and alone in the

mountains, far from home, and we do not even know each other’s name.”

“Pardon me,” cried Barney, bowing low. “Permit me to introduce myself.

I am,” and then to the spirits of Romance and Adventure was added a

third, the spirit of Deviltry, “I am the mad king of Lutha.”

II.

OVER THE PRECIPICE

The effect of his words upon the girl were quite different from what he

had expected. An American girl would have laughed, knowing that he but

joked. This girl did not laugh. Instead her face went white, and she

clutched her bosom with her two hands. Her brown eyes peered

searchingly into the face of the man.

“Leopold!” she cried in a suppressed voice. “Oh, your majesty, thank

God that you are free—and sane!”

Before he could prevent it the girl had seized his hand and pressed it

to her lips.

Here was a pretty muddle! Barney Custer swore at himself inwardly for a

boorish fool. What in the world had ever prompted him to speak those

ridiculous words! And now how was he to unsay them without mortifying

this beautiful girl who had just kissed his hand?

She would never forgive that—he was sure of it.

There was but one thing to do, however, and that was to make a clean

breast of it. Somehow, he managed to stumble through his explanation of

what had prompted him, and when he had finished he saw that the girl

was smiling indulgently at him.

“It shall be Mr. Bernard Custer if you wish it so,” she said; “but your

majesty need fear nothing from Emma von der Tann. Your secret is as

safe with me as with yourself, as the name of Von der Tann must assure

you.”

She looked to see the expression of relief and pleasure that her

father’s name should have brought to the face of Leopold of Lutha, but

when he gave no indication that he had ever before heard the name she

sighed and looked puzzled.

“Perhaps,” she thought, “he doubts me. Or can it be possible that,

after all, his poor mind is gone?”

“I wish,” said Barney in a tone of entreaty, “that you would forgive

and forget my foolish words, and then let me accompany you to the end

of your journey.”

“Whither were you bound when I became the means of wrecking your motor

car?” asked the girl.

“To the Old Forest,” replied Barney.

Now she was positive that she was indeed with the mad king of Lutha,

but she had no fear of him, for since childhood she had heard her

father scout the idea that Leopold was mad. For what other purpose

would he hasten toward the Old Forest than to take refuge in her

father’s castle upon the banks of the Tann at the forest’s verge?

“Thither was I bound also,” she said, “and if you would come there

quickly and in safety I can show you a short path across the mountains

that my father taught me years ago. It touches the main road but once

or twice, and much of the way passes through dense woods and

undergrowth where an army might hide.”

“Hadn’t we better find the nearest town,” suggested Barney, “where I

can obtain some sort of conveyance to take you home?”

“It would not be safe,” said the girl. “Peter of Blentz will have

troops out scouring all Lutha about Blentz and the Old Forest until the

king is captured.”

Barney Custer shook his head despairingly.

“Won’t you please believe that I am but a plain American?” he begged.

Upon the bole of a large wayside tree a fresh, new placard stared them

in the face. Emma von der Tann pointed at one of the paragraphs.

“Gray eyes, brown hair, and a full reddish-brown beard,” she read. “No

matter who you may be,” she said, “you are safer off the highways of

Lutha than on them until you can find and use a razor.”

“But I cannot shave until the fifth of November,” said Barney.

Again the girl looked quickly into his eyes and again in her mind rose

the question that had hovered there once before. Was he indeed, after

all, quite sane?

“Then please come with me the safest way to my father’s,” she urged.

“He will know what is best to do.”

“He cannot make me shave,” insisted Barney.

“Why do you wish not to shave?” asked the girl.

“It is a matter of my honor,” he replied. “I had my choice of wearing a

green wastebasket bonnet trimmed with red roses for six months, or a

beard for twelve. If I shave off the beard before the fifth of November

I shall be without honor in the sight of all men or else I shall have

to wear the green bonnet. The beard is bad enough, but the bonnet—ugh!”

Emma von der Tann was now quite assured that the poor fellow was indeed

quite demented, but she had seen no indications of violence as yet,

though when that too might develop there was no telling. However, he

was to her Leopold of Lutha, and her father’s house had been loyal to

him or his ancestors for three hundred years.

If she must sacrifice her life in the attempt, nevertheless still must

she do all within her power to save her king from recapture and to lead

him in safety to the castle upon the Tann.

“Come,” she said; “we waste time here. Let us make haste, for the way

is long. At best we cannot reach Tann by dark.”

“I will do anything you wish,” replied Barney, “but I shall never

forgive myself for having caused you the long and tedious journey that

lies before us. It would be perfectly safe to go to the nearest town

and secure a rig.”

Emma von der Tann had heard that it was always well to humor maniacs

and she thought of it now. She would put the scheme to the test.

“The reason that I fear to have you go to the village,” she said, “is

that I am quite sure they would catch you and shave off your beard.”

Barney started to laugh, but when he saw the deep seriousness of the

girl’s eyes he changed his mind. Then he recalled her rather peculiar

insistence that he was a king, and it suddenly occurred to him that he

had been foolish not to have guessed the truth before.

“That is so,” he agreed; “I guess we had better do as you say,” for he

had determined that the best way to handle her would be to humor her—he

had always heard that that was the proper method for handling the

mentally defective. “Where is the—er—ah—sanatorium?” he blurted out at

last.

“The what?” she asked. “There is no sanatorium near here, your majesty,

unless you refer to the Castle of Blentz.”

“Is there no asylum for the insane near by?”

“None that I know of, your majesty.”

For a while they moved on in silence, each wondering what the other

might do next.

Barney had evolved a plan. He would try and ascertain the location of

the institution from which the girl had escaped and then as gently as

possible lead her back to it. It was not safe for as beautiful a woman

as she to be roaming through the forest in any such manner as this. He

wondered what in the world the authorities at the asylum had been

thinking of to permit her to ride out alone in the first place.

“From where did you ride today?” he blurted out suddenly.

“From Tann.”

“That is where we are going now?”

“Yes, your majesty.”

Barney drew a breath of relief. The way had become suddenly difficult

and he took the girl’s arm to help her down a rather steep place. At

the bottom of the ravine there was a little brook.

“There used to be a fallen log across it here,” said the girl. “How in

the world am I ever to get across, your majesty?”

“If you call me that again, I shall begin to believe that I am a king,”

he humored her, “and then, being a king, I presume that it wouldn’t be

proper for me to carry you across, or would it? Never really having

been a king, I do not know.”

“I think,” replied the girl, “that it would be eminently proper.”

She had difficulty in keeping in mind the fact that this handsome,

smiling young man was a dangerous maniac, though it was easy to believe

that he was the king. In fact, he looked much as she had always

pictured Leopold as looking. She had known him as a boy, and there were

many paintings and photographs of his ancestors in her father’s castle.

She saw much resemblance between these and the young man.

The brook was very narrow, and the girl thought that it took the young

man an unreasonably long time to carry her across, though she was

forced to admit that she was far from uncomfortable in the strong arms

that bore her so easily.

“Why, what are you doing?” she cried presently. “You are not crossing

the stream at all. You are walking right up the middle of it!”

She saw his face flush, and then he turned laughing eyes upon her.

“I am looking for a safe landing,” he said.

Emma von der Tann did not know whether to be frightened or amused. As

her eyes met the clear, gray ones of the man she could not believe that

insanity lurked behind that laughing, level gaze of her carrier. She

found herself continually forgetting that the man was mad. He had

turned toward the bank now, and a couple of steps carried them to the

low sward that fringed the little brooklet. Here he lowered her to the

ground.

“Your majesty is very strong,” she said. “I should not have expected it

after the years of confinement you have suffered.”

“Yes,” he said, realizing that he must humor her—it was difficult to

remember that this lovely girl was insane. “Let me see, now just what

was I in prison for? I do not seem to be able to recall it. In

Nebraska, they used to hang men for horse stealing; so I am sure it

must have been something else not quite so bad. Do you happen to know?”

“When the king, your father, died you were thirteen years old,” the

girl explained, hoping to reawaken the sleeping mind, “and then your

uncle, Prince Peter of Blentz, announced that the shock of your

father’s death had unbalanced your mind. He shut you up in Blentz then,

where you have been for ten years, and he has ruled as regent. Now, my

father says, he has recently discovered a plot to take your life so

that Peter may become king. But I suppose you learned of that, and

because of it you escaped!”

“This Peter person is all-powerful in Lutha?” he asked.

“He controls the army,” the girl replied.

“And you really believe that I am the mad king Leopold?”

“You are the king,” she said in a convincing manner.

“You are a very brave young lady,” he said earnestly. “If all the mad

king’s subjects were as loyal as you, and as brave, he would not have

languished for ten years behind the walls of Blentz.”

“I am a Von der Tann,” she said proudly, as though that was explanation

sufficient to account for any bravery or loyalty.

“Even a Von der Tann might, without dishonor, hesitate to accompany a

mad man through the woods,” he replied, “especially if she happened to

be a very—a very—” He halted, flushing.

“A very what, your majesty?” asked the girl.

“A very young woman,” he ended lamely.

Emma von der Tann knew that he had not intended saying that at all.

Being a woman, she knew precisely what he had meant to say, and she

discovered that she would very much have liked to hear him say it.

“Suppose,” said Barney, “that Peter’s soldiers run across us—what

then?”

“They will take you back to Blentz, your majesty.”

“And you?”

“I do not think that they will dare lay hands on me, though it is

possible that Peter might do so. He hates my father even more now than

he did when the old king lived.”

“I wish,” said Mr. Custer, “that I had gone down after my guns. Why

didn’t you tell me, in the first place, that I was a king, and that I

might get you in trouble if you were found with me? Why, they may even

take me for an emperor or a mikado—who knows? And then look at all the

trouble we’d be in.”

Which was Barney’s way of humoring a maniac.

“And they might even shave off your beautiful beard.”

Which was the girl’s way.

“Do you think that you would like me better in the green wastebasket

hat with the red roses?” asked Barney.

A very sad look came into the girl’s eyes. It was pitiful to think that

this big, handsome young man, for whose return to the throne all Lutha

had prayed for ten long years, was only a silly half-wit. What might he

not have accomplished for his people had this terrible misfortune not

overtaken him! In every other way he seemed fitted to be the savior of

his country. If she could but make him remember!

“Your majesty,” she said, “do you not recall the time that your father

came upon a state visit to my father’s castle? You were a little boy

then. He brought you with him. I was a little girl, and we played

together. You would not let me call you ‘highness,’ but insisted that I

should always call you Leopold. When I forgot you would accuse me of

lese-majeste, and sentence me to—to punishment.”

“What was the punishment?” asked Barney, noticing her hesitation and

wishing to encourage her in the pretty turn her dementia had taken.

Again the girl hesitated; she hated to say it, but if it would help to

recall the past to that poor, dimmed mind, it was her duty.

“Every time I called you ‘highness’ you made me give you a—a kiss,” she

almost whispered.

“I hope,” said Barney, “that you will be guilty of lese-majeste often.”

“We were little children then, your majesty,” the girl reminded him.

Had he thought her of sound mind Mr. Custer might have taken advantage

of his royal prerogatives on the spot, for the girl’s lips were most

tempting; but when he remembered the poor, weak mind, tears almost came

to his eyes, and there sprang to his heart a great desire to protect

and guard this unfortunate child.

“And when I was Crown Prince what were you, way back there in the

beautiful days of our childhood?” asked Barney.

“Why, I was what I still am, your majesty,” replied the girl. “Princess

Emma von der Tann.”

So the poor child, besides thinking him a king, thought herself a

princess! She certainly was mad. Well, he would humor her.

“Then I should call you ‘your highness,’ shouldn’t I?” he asked.

“You always called me Emma when we were children.”

“Very well, then, you shall be Emma and I Leopold. Is it a bargain?”

“The king’s will is law,” she said.

They had come to a very steep hillside, up which the half-obliterated

trail zigzagged toward the crest of a flat-topped hill. Barney went

ahead, taking the girl’s hand in his to help her, and thus they came to

the top, to stand hand in hand, breathing heavily after the stiff

climb.

The girl’s hair had come loose about her temples and a lock was blowing

over her face. Her cheeks were very red and her eyes bright. Barney

thought he had never looked upon a lovelier picture. He smiled down

into her eyes and she smiled back at him.

“I wished, back there a way,” he said, “that that little brook had been

as wide as the ocean—now I wish that this little hill had been as high

as Mont Blanc.”

“You like to climb?” she asked.

“I should like to climb forever—with you,” he said seriously.

She looked up at him quickly. A reply was on her lips, but she never

uttered it, for at that moment a ruffian in picturesque rags leaped out

from behind a near-by bush, confronting them with leveled revolver. He

was so close that the muzzle of the weapon almost touched Barney’s

face. In that the fellow made his mistake.

“You see,” said Barney unexcitedly, “that I was right about the

brigands after all. What do you want, my man?”

The man’s eyes had suddenly gone wide. He stared with open mouth at the

young fellow before him. Then a cunning look came into his eyes.

“I want you, your majesty,” he said.

“Godfrey!” exclaimed Barney. “Did the whole bunch escape?”

“Quick!” growled the man. “Hold up your hands. The notice made it plain

that you would be worth as much dead as alive, and I have no mind to

lose you, so do not tempt me to kill you.”

Barney’s hands went up, but not in the way that the brigand had

expected. Instead, one of them seized his weapon and shoved it aside,

while with the other Custer planted a blow between his eyes and sent

him reeling backward. The two men closed, fighting for possession of

the gun. In the scrimmage it was exploded, but a moment later the

American succeeded in wresting it from his adversary and hurled it into

the ravine.

Striking at one another, the two surged backward and forward at the

very edge of the hill, each searching for the other’s throat. The girl

stood by, watching the battle with wide, frightened eyes. If she could

only do something to aid the king!

She saw a loose stone lying at a little distance from the fighters and

hastened to procure it. If she could strike the brigand a single good

blow on the side of the head, Leopold might easily overpower him. When

she had gathered up the rock and turned back toward the two she saw

that the man she thought to be the king was not much in the way of

needing outside assistance. She could not but marvel at the strength

and dexterity of this poor fellow who had spent almost half his life

penned within the four walls of a prison. It must be, she thought, the

superhuman strength with which maniacs are always credited.

Nevertheless, she hurried toward them with her weapon; but just before

she reached them the brigand made a last mad effort to free himself

from the fingers that had found his throat. He lunged backward,

dragging the other with him. His foot struck upon the root of a tree,

and together the two toppled over into the ravine.

As the girl hastened toward the spot where the two had disappeared, she

was startled to see three troopers of the palace cavalry headed by an

officer break through the trees at a short distance from where the

battle had waged. The four men ran rapidly toward her.

“What has happened here?” shouted the officer to Emma von der Tann; and

then, as he came closer: “Gott! Can it be possible that it is your

highness?”

The girl paid no attention to the officer. Instead, she hurried down

the steep embankment toward the underbrush into which the two men had

fallen. There was no sound from below, and no movement in the bushes to

indicate that a moment before two desperately battling human beings had

dropped among them.

The soldiers were close upon the girl’s heels, but it was she who first

reached the two quiet figures that lay side by side upon the stony

ground halfway down the hillside.

When the officer stopped beside her she was sitting on the ground

holding the head of one of the combatants in her lap.

A little stream of blood trickled from a wound in the forehead. The

officer stooped closer.

“He is dead?” he asked.

“The king is dead,” replied the Princess Emma von der Tann, a little

sob in her voice.

“The king!” exclaimed the officer; and then, as he bent lower over the

white face: “Leopold!”

The girl nodded.

“We were searching for him,” said the officer, “when we heard the

shot.” Then, arising, he removed his cap, saying in a very low voice:

“The king is dead. Long live the king!”

III.

AN ANGRY KING

The soldiers stood behind their officer. None of them had ever seen

Leopold of Lutha—he had been but a name to them—they cared nothing for

him; but in the presence of death they were awed by the majesty of the

king they had never known.

The hands of Emma von der Tann were chafing the wrists of the man whose

head rested in her lap.

“Leopold!” she whispered. “Leopold, come back! Mad king you may have

been, but still you were king of Lutha—my father’s king—my king.”

The girl nearly cried out in shocked astonishment as she saw the eyes

of the dead king open. But Emma von der Tann was quick-witted. She knew

for what purpose the soldiers from the palace were scouring the

country.

Had she not thought the king dead she would have cut out her tongue

rather than reveal his identity to these soldiers of his great enemy.

Now she saw that Leopold lived, and she must undo the harm she had

innocently wrought. She bent lower over Barney’s face, trying to hide

it from the soldiers.

“Go away, please!” she called to them. “Leave me with my dead king. You

are Peter’s men. You do not care for Leopold, living or dead. Go back

to your new king and tell him that this poor young man can never more

stand between him and the throne.”

The officer hesitated.

“We shall have to take the king’s body with us, your highness,” he

said.

The officer evidently becoming suspicious, came closer, and as he did

so Barney Custer sat up.

“Go away!” cried the girl, for she saw that the king was attempting to

speak. “My father’s people will carry Leopold of Lutha in state to the

capital of his kingdom.”

“What’s all this row about?” he asked. “Can’t you let a dead king alone

if the young lady asks you to? What kind of a short sport are you,

anyway? Run along, now, and tie yourself outside.”

The officer smiled, a trifle maliciously perhaps.

“Ah,” he said, “I am very glad indeed that you are not dead, your

majesty.”

Barney Custer turned his incredulous eyes upon the lieutenant.

“Et tu, Brute?” he cried in anguished accents, letting his head fall

back into the girl’s lap. He found it very comfortable there indeed.

The officer smiled and shook his head. Then he tapped his forehead

meaningly.

“I did not know,” he said to the girl, “that he was so bad. But come—it

is some distance to Blentz, and the afternoon is already well spent.

Your highness will accompany us.”

“I?” cried the girl. “You certainly cannot be serious.”

“And why not, your highness?” asked the officer. “We had strict orders

to arrest not only the king, but any companions who may have been

involved in his escape.”

“I had nothing whatever to do with his escape,” said the girl, “though

I should have been only too glad to have aided him had the opportunity

presented.”

“King Peter may think differently,” replied the man.

“The Regent, you mean?” the girl corrected him haughtily.

The officer shrugged his shoulders.

“Regent or King, he is ruler of Lutha nevertheless, and he would take

away my commission were I to tell him that I had found a Von der Tann

in company with the king and had permitted her to escape. Your blood

convicts your highness.”

“You are going to take me to Blentz and confine me there?” asked the

girl in a very small voice and with wide incredulous eyes. “You would

not dare thus to humiliate a Von der Tann?”

“I am very sorry,” said the officer, “but I am a soldier, and soldiers

must obey their superiors. My orders are strict. You may be thankful,”

he added, “that it was not Maenck who discovered you.”

At the mention of the name the girl shuddered.

“In so far as it is in my power your highness and his majesty will be

accorded every consideration of dignity and courtesy while under my

escort. You need not entertain any fear of me,” he concluded.

Barney Custer, during this, to him, remarkable dialogue, had risen to

his feet, and assisted the girl in rising. Now he turned and spoke to

the officer.

“This farce,” he said, “has gone quite far enough. If it is a joke it

is becoming a very sorry one. I am not a king. I am an American—Bernard

Custer, of Beatrice, Nebraska, U.S.A. Look at me. Look at me closely.

Do I look like a king?”

“Every inch, your majesty,” replied the officer.

Barney looked at the man aghast.

“Well, I am not a king,” he said at last, “and if you go to arresting

me and throwing me into one of your musty old dungeons you will find

that I am a whole lot more important than most kings. I’m an American

citizen.”

“Yes, your majesty,” replied the officer, a trifle impatiently. “But we

waste time in idle discussion. Will your majesty be so good as to

accompany me without resistance?”

“If you will first escort this young lady to a place of safety,”

replied Barney.

“She will be quite safe at Blentz,” said the lieutenant.

Barney turned to look at the girl, a question in his eyes. Before them

stood the soldiers with drawn revolvers, and now at the summit of the

hill a dozen more appeared in command of a sergeant. They were two

against nearly a score, and Barney Custer was unarmed.

The girl shook her head.

“There, is no alternative, I am afraid, your majesty,” she said.

Barney wheeled toward the officer.

“Very well, lieutenant,” he said, “we will accompany you.”

The party turned back up the hillside, leaving the dead bandit where he

lay—the fellow’s neck had been broken by the fall. A short distance

from where the man had confronted them the two prisoners were brought

to the main road where they saw still other troopers, and with them the

horses of those who had gone into the forest on foot.

Barney and the girl were mounted on two of the animals, the soldiers

who had ridden them clambering up behind two of their comrades. A

moment later the troop set out along the road which leads to Blentz.

The prisoners rode near the center of the column, surrounded by

troopers. For a time they were both silent. Barney was wondering if he

had accidentally tumbled into the private grounds of Lutha’s largest

madhouse, or if, in reality, these people mistook him for the young

king—it seemed incredible.

It had commenced slowly to dawn upon him that perhaps the girl was not

crazy after all. Had not the officer addressed her as “your highness”?

Now that he thought upon it he recalled that she did have quite a

haughty and regal way with her at times, especially so when she had

addressed the officer.

Of course she might be mad, after all, and possibly the bandit, too,

but it seemed unbelievable that the officer was mad and his entire

troop of cavalry should be composed of maniacs, yet they all persisted

in speaking and acting as though he were indeed the mad king of Lutha

and the young girl at his side a princess.

From pitying the girl he had come to feel a little bit in awe of her.

To the best of his knowledge he had never before associated with a real

princess. When he recalled that he had treated her as he would an

ordinary mortal, and that he had thought her demented, and had tried to

humor her mad whims, he felt very foolish indeed.

Presently he turned a sheepish glance in her direction, to find her

looking at him. He saw her flush slightly as his eyes met hers.

“Can your highness ever forgive me?” he asked.

“Forgive you!” she cried in astonishment. “For what, your majesty?”

“For thinking you insane, and for getting you into this horrible

predicament,” he replied. “But especially for thinking you insane.”

“Did you think me mad?” she asked in wide-eyed astonishment.

“When you insisted that I was a king, yes,” he replied. “But now I

begin to believe that it must be I who am mad, after all, or else I

bear a remarkable resemblance to Leopold of Lutha.”

“You do, your majesty,” replied the girl.

Barney saw it was useless to attempt to convince them and so he decided

to give up for the time.

“Have me king, if you will,” he said, “but please do not call me ‘your

majesty’ any more. It gets on my nerves.”

“Your will is law—Leopold,” replied the girl, hesitating prettily

before the familiar name, “but do not forget your part of the compact.”

He smiled at her. A princess wasn’t half so terrible after all.

“And your will shall be my law, Emma,” he said.

It was almost dark when they came to Blentz. The castle lay far up on

the side of a steep hill above the town. It was an ancient pile, but

had been maintained in an excellent state of repair. As Barney Custer

looked up at the grim towers and mighty, buttressed walls his heart

sank. It had taken the mad king ten years to make his escape from that

gloomy and forbidding pile!

“Poor child,” he murmured, thinking of the girl.

Before the barbican the party was halted by the guard. An officer with

a lantern stepped out upon the lowered portcullis. The lieutenant who

had captured them rode forward to meet him.

“A detachment of the Royal Horse Guards escorting His Majesty the King,

who is returning to Blentz,” he said in reply to the officer’s sharp

challenge.

“The king!” exclaimed the officer. “You have found him?” and he

advanced with raised lantern searching for the monarch.

“At last,” whispered Barney to the girl at his side, “I shall be

vindicated. This man, at least, who is stationed at Blentz must know

his king by sight.”

The officer came quite close, holding his lantern until the rays fell

full in Barney’s face. He scrutinized the young man for a moment. There

was neither humility nor respect in his manner, so that the American

was sure that the fellow had discovered the imposture.

From the bottom of his heart he hoped so. Then the officer swung the

lantern until its light shone upon the girl.

“And who’s the wench with him?” he asked the officer who had found

them.

The man was standing close beside Barney’s horse, and the words were

scarce out of his month when the American slipped from his saddle to

the portcullis and struck the officer full in the face.

“She is the Princess von der Tann, you boor,” said Barney, “and let

that help you remember it in future.”

The officer scrambled to his feet, white with rage. Whipping out his

sword he rushed at Barney.

“You shall die for that, you half-wit,” he cried.

Lieutenant Butzow, he of the Royal Horse, rushed forward to prevent the

assault and Emma von der Tann sprang from her saddle and threw herself

in front of Barney.

Butzow grasped the other officer’s arm.

“Are you mad, Schonau?” he cried. “Would you kill the king?”

The fellow tugged to escape the grasp of Butzow. He was crazed with

anger.

“Why not?” he bellowed. “You were a fool not to have done it yourself.

Maenck will do it and get a baronetcy. It will mean a captaincy for me

at least. Let me at him—no man can strike Karl Schonau and live.”

“The king is unarmed,” cried Emma von der Tann. “Would you murder him

in cold blood?”

“He shall not murder him at all, your highness,” said Lieutenant Butzow

quietly. “Give me your sword, Lieutenant Schonau. I place you under

arrest. What you have just said will not please the Regent when it is

reported to him. You should keep your head better when you are angry.”

“It is the truth,” growled Schonau, regretting that his anger had led

him into a disclosure of the plot against the king’s life, but like

most weak characters fearing to admit himself in error even more than

he feared the consequences of his rash words.

“Do you intend taking my sword?” asked Schonau suddenly, turning toward

Lieutenant Butzow standing beside him.

“We will forget the whole occurrence, lieutenant,” replied Butzow, “if

you will promise not to harm his majesty, or offer him or the Princess

von der Tann further humiliation. Their position is sufficiently

unpleasant without our adding to the degradation of it.”

“Very well,” grumbled Schonau. “Pass on into the courtyard.”

Barney and the girl remounted and the little cavalcade moved forward

through the ballium and the great gate into the court beyond.

“Did you notice,” said Barney to the princess, “that even he believes

me to be the king? I cannot fathom it.”

Within the castle they were met by a number of servants and soldiers.

An officer escorted them to the great hall, and presently a dark

visaged captain of cavalry entered and approached them. Butzow saluted.

“His Majesty, the King,” he announced, “has returned to Blentz. In

accordance with the commands of the Regent I deliver his august person

into your safe keeping, Captain Maenck.”

Maenck nodded. He was looking at Barney with evident curiosity.

“Where did you find him?” he asked Butzow.

He made no pretense of according to Barney the faintest indication of

the respect that is supposed to be due to those of royal blood. Barney

commenced to hope that he had finally come upon one who would know that

he was not king.

Butzow recounted the details of the finding of the king. As he spoke,

Maenck’s eyes, restless and furtive, seemed to be appraising the

personal charms of the girl who stood just back of Barney.

The American did not like the appearance of the officer, but he saw

that he was evidently supreme at Blentz, and he determined to appeal to

him in the hope that the man might believe his story and untangle the

ridiculous muddle that a chance resemblance to a fugitive monarch had

thrown him and the girl into.

“Captain,” said Barney, stepping closer to the officer, “there has been

a mistake in identity here. I am not the king. I am an American

traveling for pleasure in Lutha. The fact that I have gray eyes and

wear a full reddish-brown beard is my only offense. You are doubtless

familiar with the king’s appearance and so you at least have already

seen that I am not his majesty.

“Not being the king, there is no cause to detain me longer, and as I am

not a fugitive and never have been, this young lady has been guilty of

no misdemeanor or crime in being in my company. Therefore she too

should be released. In the name of justice and common decency I am sure

that you will liberate us both at once and furnish the Princess von der

Tann, at least, with a proper escort to her home.”

Maenck listened in silence until Barney had finished, a half smile upon

his thick lips.

“I am commencing to believe that you are not so crazy as we have all

thought,” he said. “Certainly,” and he let his eyes rest upon Emma von

der Tann, “you are not mentally deficient in so far as your judgment of

a good-looking woman is concerned. I could not have made a better

selection myself.

“As for my familiarity with your appearance, you know as well as I that

I have never seen you before. But that is not necessary—you conform

perfectly to the printed description of you with which the kingdom is

flooded. Were that not enough, the fact that you were discovered with

old Von der Tann’s daughter is sufficient to remove the least doubt as

to your identity.”

“You are governor of Blentz,” cried Barney, “and yet you say that you

have never seen the king?”

“Certainly,” replied Maenck. “After you escaped the entire personnel of

the garrison here was changed, even the old servants to a man were

withdrawn and others substituted. You will have difficulty in again

escaping, for those who aided you before are no longer here.”

“There is no man in the castle of Blentz who has ever seen the king?”

asked Barney.

“None who has seen him before tonight,” replied Maenck. “But were we in

doubt we have the word of the Princess Emma that you are Leopold. Did

she not admit it to you, Butzow?”

“When she thought his majesty dead she admitted it,” replied Butzow.

“We gain nothing by discussing the matter,” said Maenck shortly. “You

are Leopold of Lutha. Prince Peter says that you are mad. All that

concerns me is that you do not escape again, and you may rest assured

that while Ernst Maenck is governor of Blentz you shall not escape and

go at large again.

“Are the royal apartments in readiness for his majesty, Dr. Stein?” he

concluded, turning toward a rat-faced little man with bushy whiskers,

who stood just behind him.

The query was propounded in an ironical tone, and with a manner that

made no pretense of concealing the contempt of the speaker for the man

he thought the king.

The eyes of the Princess Emma were blazing as she caught the scant

respect in Maenck’s manner. She looked quickly toward Barney to see if

he intended rebuking the man for his impertinence. She saw that the

king evidently intended overlooking Maenck’s attitude. But Emma von der

Tann was of a different mind.

She had seen Maenck several times at social functions in the capital.

He had even tried to win a place in her favor, but she had always

disliked him, even before the nasty stories of his past life had become

common gossip, and within the year she had won his hatred by definitely

indicating to him that he was persona non grata, in so far as she was

concerned. Now she turned upon him, her eyes flashing with indignation.

“Do you forget, sir, that you address the king?” she cried. “That you

are without honor I have heard men say, and I may truly believe it now

that I have seen what manner of man you are. The most lowly-bred boor

in all Lutha would not be so ungenerous as to take advantage of his

king’s helplessness to heap indignities upon him.

“Leopold of Lutha shall come into his own some day, and my dearest hope

is that his first act may be to mete out to such as you the punishment

you deserve.”

Maenck paled in anger. His fingers twitched nervously, but he

controlled his temper remarkably well, biding his time for revenge.

“Take the king to his apartments, Stein,” he commanded curtly, “and

you, Lieutenant Butzow, accompany them with a guard, nor leave until

you see that he is safely confined. You may return here afterward for

my further instructions. In the meantime I wish to examine the king’s

mistress.”

For a moment tense silence reigned in the apartment after Maenck had

delivered his wanton insult.

Emma von der Tann, her little chin high in the air, stood straight and

haughty, nor was there any sign in her expression to indicate that she

had heard the man’s words.

Barney was the first to take cognizance of them.

“You cur!” he cried, and took a step toward Maenck. “You’re going to

eat that, word for word.”

Maenck stepped back, his hand upon his sword. Butzow laid a hand upon

Barney’s arm.

“Don’t, your majesty,” he implored, “it will but make your position

more unpleasant, nor will it add to the safety of the Princess von der

Tann for you to strike him now.”

Barney shook himself free from Butzow, and before either Stein or the

lieutenant could prevent had sprung upon Maenck.

The latter had not been quick enough with his sword, so that Barney had

struck him twice, heavily in the face before the officer was able to

draw. Butzow had sprung to the king’s side, and was attempting to

interpose himself between Maenck and the American. In a moment more the

sword of the infuriated captain would be in the king’s heart. Barney

turned the first thrust with his forearm.

“Stop!” cried Butzow to Maenck. “Are you mad, that you would kill the

king?”

Maenck lunged again, viciously, at the unprotected body of his

antagonist.

“Die, you pig of an idiot!” he screamed.

Butzow saw that the man really meant to murder Leopold. He seized

Barney by the shoulder and whirled him backward. At the same instant

his own sword leaped from his scabbard, and now Maenck found himself

facing grim steel in the hand of a master swordsman.

The governor of Blentz drew back from the touch of that sharp point.

“What do you mean?” he cried. “This is mutiny.”

“When I received my commission,” replied Butzow, quietly, “I swore to

protect the person of the king with my life, and while I live no man

shall affront Leopold of Lutha in my presence, or threaten his safety

else he accounts to me for his act. Return your sword, Captain Maenck,

nor ever again draw it against the king while I be near.”

Slowly Maenck sheathed his weapon. Black hatred for Butzow and the man

he was protecting smoldered in his eyes.

“If he wishes peace,” said Barney, “let him apologize to the princess.”

“You had better apologize, captain,” counseled Butzow, “for if the king

should command me to do so I should have to compel you to,” and the

lieutenant half drew his sword once more.

There was something in Butzow’s voice that warned Maenck that his

subordinate would like nothing better than the king’s command to run

him through.

He well knew the fame of Butzow’s sword arm, and having no stomach for

an encounter with it he grumbled an apology.

“And don’t let it occur again,” warned Barney.

“Come,” said Dr. Stein, “your majesty should be in your apartments,

away from all excitement, if we are to effect a cure, so that you may

return to your throne quickly.”

Butzow formed the soldiers about the American, and the party moved

silently out of the great hall, leaving Captain Maenck and Princess

Emma von der Tann its only occupants.

Barney cast a troubled glance toward Maenck, and half hesitated.

“I am sorry, your majesty,” said Butzow in a low voice, “but you must

accompany us. In this the governor of Blentz is well within his

authority, and I must obey him.”

“Heaven help her!” murmured Barney.

“The governor will not dare harm her,” said Butzow. “Your majesty need

entertain no apprehension.”

“I wouldn’t trust him,” replied the American. “I know his kind.”

IV.

BARNEY FINDS A FRIEND

After the party had left the room Maenck stood looking at the princess

for several seconds. A cunning expression supplanted the anger that had

shown so plainly upon his face but a moment before. The girl had moved

to one side of the apartment and was pretending an interest in a large

tapestry that covered the wall at that point. Maenck watched her with

greedy eyes. Presently he spoke.

“Let us be friends,” he said. “You shall be my guest at Blentz for a

long time. I doubt if Peter will care to release you soon, for he has

no love for your father—and it will be easier for both if we establish

pleasant relations from the beginning. What do you say?”

“I shall not be at Blentz long,” she replied, not even looking in

Maenck’s direction, “though while I am it shall be as a prisoner and

not as a guest. It is incredible that one could believe me willing to

pose as the guest of a traitor, even were he less impossible than the

notorious and infamous Captain Maenck.”

Maenck smiled. He was one of those who rather pride themselves upon the

possession of racy reputations. He walked across the room to a bell

cord which he pulled. Then he turned toward the girl again.

“I have given you an opportunity,” he said, “to lighten the burdens of

your captivity. I hoped that you would be sensible and accept my

advances of friendship voluntarily,” and he emphasized the word

“voluntarily,” “but—”

He shrugged his shoulders.

A servant had entered the apartment in response to Maenck’s summons.

“Show the Princess von der Tann to her apartments,” he commanded with a

sinister tone.

The man, who was in the livery of Peter of Blentz, bowed, and with a

deferential sign to the girl led the way from the room. Emma von der

Tann followed her guide up a winding stairway which spiraled within a

tower at the end of a long passage. On the second floor of the castle

the servant led her to a large and beautifully furnished suite of three

rooms—a bedroom, dressing-room and boudoir. After showing her the rooms

that were to be hers the servant left her alone.

As soon as he had gone the Princess von der Tann took another turn

through the suite, looking to the doors and windows to ascertain how

securely she might barricade herself against unwelcome visitors.

She found that the three rooms lay in an angle of the old, moss-covered

castle wall.

The bedroom and dressing-room were connected by a doorway, and each in

turn had another door opening into the boudoir. The only connection

with the corridor without was through a single doorway from the

boudoir. This door was equipped with a massive bolt, which, when she

had shot it, gave her a feeling of immense relief and security. The

windows were all too high above the court on one side and the moat upon

the other to cause her the slightest apprehension of danger from the

outside.

The girl found the boudoir not only beautiful, but extremely

comfortable and cozy. A huge log-fire blazed upon the hearth, and,

though it was summer, its warmth was most welcome, for the night was

chill. Across the room from the fireplace a full length oil of a former

Blentz princess looked down in arrogance upon the unwilling occupant of

the room. It seemed to the girl that there was an expression of

annoyance upon the painted countenance that another, and an enemy of

her house, should be making free with her belongings. She wondered a

little, too, that this huge oil should have been hung in a lady’s

boudoir. It seemed singularly out of place.

“If she would but smile,” thought Emma von der Tann, “she would detract

less from the otherwise pleasant surroundings, but I suppose she serves

her purpose in some way, whatever it may be.”

There were papers, magazines and books upon the center table and more

books upon a low tier of shelves on either side of the fireplace. The

girl tried to amuse herself by reading, but she found her thoughts

continually reverting to the unhappy situation of the king, and her

eyes momentarily wandered to the cold and repellent face of the Blentz

princess.

Finally she wheeled a great armchair near the fireplace, and with her

back toward the portrait made a final attempt to submerge her unhappy

thoughts in a current periodical.

When Barney and his escort reached the apartments that had been

occupied by the king of Lutha before his escape, Butzow and the

soldiers left him in company with Dr. Stein and an old servant, whom

the doctor introduced as his new personal attendant.

“Your majesty will find him a very attentive and faithful servant,”

said Stein. “He will remain with you and administer your medicine at

proper intervals.”

“Medicine?” ejaculated Barney. “What in the world do I need of

medicine? There is nothing the matter with me.”

Stein smiled indulgently.

“Ah, your majesty,” he said, “if you could but realize the sad

affliction that clouds your life! You may never sit upon your throne

until the last trace of this sinister mental disorder is eradicated, so

take your medicine voluntarily, or otherwise Joseph will be compelled

to administer it by force. Remember, sire, that only through this

treatment will you be able to leave Blentz.”

After Stein had left the room Joseph bolted the door behind him. Then

he came to where Barney stood in the center of the apartment, and

dropping to his knees took the young man’s hand in his and kissed it.

“God has been good indeed, your majesty,” he whispered. “It was He who

made it possible for old Joseph to deceive them and find his way to

your side.”

“Who are you, my man?” asked Barney.

“I am from Tann,” whispered the old man, in a very low voice. “His

highness, the prince, found the means to obtain service for me with the

new retinue that has replaced the old which permitted your majesty’s

escape. There was another from Tann among the former servants here.

“It was through his efforts that you escaped before, you will recall. I

have seen Fritz and learned from him the way, so that if your majesty

does not recall it it will make no difference, for I know it well,

having been over it three times already since I came here, to be sure

that when the time came that they should recapture you I might lead you

out quickly before they could slay you.”

“You really think that they intend murdering me?”

“There is no doubt about it, your majesty,” replied the old man. “This

very bottle”—Joseph touched the phial which Stein had left upon the

table—“contains the means whereby, through my hands, you were to be

slowly poisoned.”

“Do you know what it is?”

“Bichloride of mercury, your majesty. One dose would have been

sufficient, and after a few days—perhaps a week—you would have died in

great agony.”

Barney shuddered.

“But I am not the king, Joseph,” said the young man, “so even had they

succeeded in killing me it would have profited them nothing.”

Joseph shook his head sadly.

“Your majesty will pardon the presumption of one who loves him,” he

said, “if he makes so bold as to suggest that your majesty must not

again deny that he is king. That only tends to corroborate the

contention of Prince Peter that your majesty is not—er, just sane, and

so, incompetent to rule Lutha. But we of Tann know differently, and

with the help of the good God we will place your majesty upon the

throne which Peter has kept from you all these years.”

Barney sighed. They were determined that he should be king whether he

would or no. He had often thought he would like to be a king; but now

the realization of his boyish dreaming which seemed so imminent bade

fair to be almost anything than pleasant.

Barney suddenly realized that the old fellow was talking. He was

explaining how they might escape. It seemed that a secret passage led

from this very chamber to the vaults beneath the castle and from there

through a narrow tunnel below the moat to a cave in the hillside far

beyond the structure.

“They will not return again tonight to see your majesty,” said Joseph,

“and so we had best make haste to leave at once. I have a rope and

swords in readiness. We shall need the rope to make our way down the

hillside, but let us hope that we shall not need the swords.”

“I cannot leave Blentz,” said Barney, “unless the Princess Emma goes

with us.”

“The Princess Emma!” cried the old man. “What Princess Emma?”

“Princess von der Tann,” replied Barney. “Did you not know that she was

captured with me!”

The old man was visibly affected by the knowledge that his young

mistress was a prisoner within the walls of Blentz. He seemed torn by

conflicting emotions—his duty toward his king and his love for the

daughter of his old master. So it was that he seemed much relieved when

he found that Barney insisted upon saving the girl before any thought

of their own escape should be taken into consideration.

“My first duty, your majesty,” said Joseph, “is to bring you safely out

of the hands of your enemies, but if you command me to try to bring

your betrothed with us I am sure that his highness, Prince Ludwig,

would be the last to censure me for deviating thus from his

instructions, for if he loves another more than he loves his king it is

his daughter, the beautiful Princess Emma.”

“What do you mean, Joseph,” asked Barney, “by referring to the princess

as my betrothed? I never saw her before today.”

“It has slipped your majesty’s mind,” said the old man sadly; “but you

and my young mistress were betrothed many years ago while you were yet

but children. It was the old king’s wish that you wed the daughter of

his best friend and most loyal subject.”

Here was a pretty pass, indeed, thought Barney. It was sufficiently

embarrassing to be mistaken for the king, but to be thrown into this

false position in company with a beautiful young woman to whom the king

was engaged to be married, and who, with the others, thought him to be

the king, was quite the last word in impossible positions.

Following this knowledge there came to Barney the first pangs of regret

that he was not really the king, and then the realization, so sudden

that it almost took his breath away, that the girl was very beautiful

and very much to be desired. He had not thought about the matter until

her utter impossibility was forced upon him.

It was decided that Joseph should leave the king’s apartment at once

and discover in what part of the castle Emma von der Tann was

imprisoned. Their further plans were to depend upon the information

gained by the old man during his tour of investigation of the castle.

In the interval of his absence Barney paced the length of his prison

time and time again. He thought the fellow would never return. Perhaps

he had been detected in the act of spying, and was himself a prisoner

in some other part of the castle! The thought came to Barney like a

blow in the face, for he realized that then he would be entirely at the

mercy of his captors, and that there would be none to champion the

cause of the Princess von der Tann.

When his nervous tension had about reached the breaking point there

came a sound of stealthy movement just outside the door of his room.

Barney halted close to the massive panels. He heard a key fitted

quietly and then the lock grated as it turned.

Barney thought that they had surely detected Joseph’s duplicity and had

come to make short work of the king before other traitors arose in

their midst entirely to frustrate their plans. The young American

stepped to the wall behind the door that he might be out of sight of

whoever entered. Should it prove other than Joseph, might the Lord help

them! The clenched fists, square-set chin, and gleaming gray eyes of

the prisoner presaged no good for any incoming enemy.

Slowly the door swung open and a man entered the room. Barney breathed

a deep sigh of relief—it was Joseph.

“Well?” cried the young man from behind him, and Joseph started as

though Peter of Blentz himself had laid an accusing finger upon his

shoulder. “What news?”

“Your majesty,” gasped Joseph, “how you did startle me! I found the

apartments of the princess, sire. There is a bare chance that we may

succeed in rescuing her, but a very bare one, indeed.

“We must traverse a main corridor of the castle to reach her suite, and

then return by the same way. It will be a miracle if we are not

discovered; but the worst of it is that next to her apartments, and

between them and your majesty’s, are the apartments of Captain Maenck.

“He is sure to be there and officers and servants may be coming and

going throughout the entire night, for the man is a convivial fellow,

sitting at cards and drink until sunrise nearly every day.”

“And when we have brought the princess in safety to my quarters,” asked

Barney, “what then? How shall we conduct her from the castle? You have

not told me that as yet.”

The old man explained then the plan of escape. It seemed that one of

the two huge tile panels that flanked the fireplace on either side was

in reality a door hiding the entrance to a shaft that rose from the

vaults beneath the castle to the roof. At each floor there was a

similar secret door concealing the mouth of the passage. From the

vaults a corridor led through another secret panel to the tunnel that

wound downward to the cave in the hillside.

“Beyond that we shall find horses, your majesty,” concluded the old

man. “They have been hidden in the woods since I came to Blentz. Each

day I go there to water and feed them.”

During the servant’s explanation Barney had been casting about in his

mind for some means of rescuing the princess without so great risk of

detection, and as the plan of the secret passageway became clear to him

he thought that he saw a way to accomplish the thing with comparative

safety in so far as detection was concerned.

“Who occupies the floor above us, Joseph?” he asked.

“It is vacant,” replied the old man.

“Good! Come, show me the entrance to the shaft,” directed Barney.

“You will go without attempting to succor the Princess Emma?” exclaimed

the old fellow in ill-concealed chagrin.

“Far from it,” replied Barney. “Bring your rope and the swords. I think

we are going to find the rescuing of the Princess Emma the easiest part

of our adventure.”

The old man shook his head, but went to another room of the suite, from

which he presently emerged with a stout rope about fifty feet in length

and two swords. As he buckled one of the weapons to Barney his eyes

fell upon the American’s seal ring that encircled the third finger of

his left hand.

“The Royal Ring of Lutha!” exclaimed Joseph. “Where is it, your

majesty? What has become of the Royal Ring of the Kings of Lutha?”

“I’m sure I don’t know, Joseph,” replied the young man. “Should I be

wearing a royal ring?”

“The profaning miscreants!” cried Joseph. “They have dared to filch

from you the great ring that has been handed down from king to king for

three hundred years. When did they take it from you?”

“I have never seen it, Joseph,” replied the young man, “and possibly

this fact may assure you where all else has failed that I am no true

king of Lutha, after all.”

“Ah, no, your majesty,” replied the old servitor; “it but makes

assurance doubly sure as to your true identity, for the fact that you

have not the ring is positive proof that you are king and that they

have sought to hide the fact by removing the insignia of your divine

right to rule in Lutha.”

Barney could not but smile at the old fellow’s remarkable logic. He saw

that nothing short of a miracle would ever convince Joseph that he was

not the real monarch, and so, as matters of greater importance were to

the fore, he would have allowed the subject to drop had not the man

attempted to recall to the impoverished memory of his king a

recollection of the historic and venerated relic of the dead monarchs

of Lutha.

“Do you not remember, sir,” he asked, “the great ruby that glared,

blood-red from its center, and the four sets of golden wings that

formed the setting? From the blood of Charlemagne was the ruby made, so

history tells us, and the setting represented the protecting wings of

the power of the kings of Lutha spread to the four points of the

compass. Now your majesty must recall the royal ring, I am sure.”

Barney only shook his head, much to Joseph’s evident sorrow.

“Never mind the ring, Joseph,” said the young man. “Bring your rope and

lead me to the floor above.”

“The floor above? But, your majesty, we cannot reach the vaults and

tunnel by going upward!”

“You forget, Joseph, that we are going to fetch the Princess Emma

first.”

“But she is not on the floor above us, sire; she is upon the same floor

as we are,” insisted the old man, hesitating.

“Joseph, who do you think I am?” asked Barney.

“You are the king, my lord,” replied the old man.

“Then do as your king commands,” said the American sharply.

Joseph turned with dubious mutterings and approached the tiled panel at

the left of the fireplace. Here he fumbled about for a moment until his

fingers found the hidden catch that held the cunningly devised door in

place. An instant later the panel swung inward before his touch, and

standing to one side, the old fellow bowed low as he ushered Barney

into the Stygian darkness of the space beyond their vision.

Joseph halted the young man just within the doorway, cautioning him

against the danger of falling into the shaft, then he closed the panel,

and a moment later had found the lantern he had hidden there and

lighted it. The rays disclosed to the American the rough masonry of the

interior of a narrow, well-built shaft. A rude ladder standing upon a

narrow ledge beside him extended upward to lose itself in the shadows

above. At its foot the top of another ladder was visible protruding

through the opening from the floor beneath.

No sooner had Joseph’s lantern shown him the way than Barney was

ascending the ladder toward the floor above. At the next landing he

waited for the old man.

Joseph put out the light and placed the lantern where they could easily

find it upon their return. Then he cautiously slipped the catch that

held the panel in place and slowly opened the door until a narrow line

of lesser darkness showed from without.

For a moment they stood in silence listening for any sound from the

chamber beyond, but as nothing occurred to indicate that the apartment

was occupied the old man opened the portal a trifle further, and

finally far enough to permit his body to pass through. Barney followed

him. They found themselves in a large, empty chamber, identical in size

and shape with that which they had just quitted upon the floor below.

From this the two passed into the corridor beyond, and thence to the

apartments at the far end of the wing, directly over those occupied by

Emma von der Tann.

Barney hastened to a window overlooking the moat. By leaning far out he

could see the light from the princess’s chamber shining upon the sill.

He wished that the light was not there, for the window was in plain

view of the guard on the lookout upon the barbican.

Suddenly he caught the sound of voices from the chamber beneath. For an

instant he listened, and then, catching a few words of the dialogue, he

turned hurriedly toward his companion.

“The rope, Joseph! And for God’s sake be quick about it.”

V.

THE ESCAPE

For half an hour the Princess von der Tann succeeded admirably in

immersing herself in the periodical, to the exclusion of her unhappy

thoughts and the depressing influence of the austere countenance of the

Blentz Princess hanging upon the wall behind her.

But presently she became unaccountably nervous. At the slightest sound

from the palace-life on the floor below she would start up with a

tremor of excitement. Once she heard footsteps in the corridor before

her door, but they passed on, and she thought she discerned the click

of a latch a short distance further on along the passageway.

Again she attempted to gather up the thread of the article she had been

reading, but she was unsuccessful. A stealthy scratching brought her

round quickly, staring in the direction of the great portrait. The girl

would have sworn that she had heard a noise within her chamber. She

shuddered at the thought that it might have come from that painted

thing upon the wall.

What was the matter with her? Was she losing all control of herself to

be frightened like a little child by ghostly noises?

She tried to return to her reading, but for the life of her she could

not keep her eyes off the silent, painted woman who stared and stared

and stared in cold, threatening silence upon this ancient enemy of her

house.

Presently the girl’s eyes went wide in horror. She could feel the scalp

upon her head contract with fright. Her terror-filled gaze was frozen

upon that awful figure that loomed so large and sinister above her, for

the thing had moved! She had seen it with her own eyes. There could be

no mistake—no hallucination of overwrought nerves about it. The Blentz

Princess was moving slowly toward her!

Like one in a trance the girl rose from her chair, her eyes glued upon

the awful apparition that seemed creeping upon her. Slowly she withdrew

toward the opposite side of the chamber. As the painting moved more

quickly the truth flashed upon her—it was mounted on a door.

The crack of the door widened and beyond it the girl saw dimly, eyes

fastened upon her. With difficulty she restrained a shriek. The portal

swung wide and a man in uniform stepped into the room.

It was Maenck.

Emma von der Tann gazed in unveiled abhorrence upon the leering face of

the governor of Blentz.

“What means this intrusion?” cried the girl.

“What would you have here?”

“You,” replied Maenck.

The girl crimsoned.

Maenck regarded her sneeringly.

“You coward!” she cried. “Leave my apartments at once. Not even Peter

of Blentz would countenance such abhorrent treatment of a prisoner.”

“You do not know Peter, my dear,” responded Maenck. “But you need not

fear. You shall be my wife. Peter has promised me a baronetcy for the

capture of Leopold, and before I am done I shall be made a prince, of

that you may rest assured, so you see I am not so bad a match after

all.”

He crossed over toward her and would have laid a rough hand upon her

arm.

The girl sprang away from him, running to the opposite side of the

library table at which she had been reading. Maenck started to pursue

her, when she seized a heavy, copper bowl that stood upon the table and

hurled it full in his face. The missile struck him a glancing blow, but

the edge laid open the flesh of one cheek almost to the jaw bone.

With a cry of pain and rage Captain Ernst Maenck leaped across the

table full upon the young girl. With vicious, murderous fingers he

seized upon her fair throat, shaking her as a terrier might shake a

rat. Futilely the girl struck at the hate-contorted features so close

to hers.

“Stop!” she cried. “You are killing me.”

The fingers released their hold.

“No,” muttered the man, and dragged the princess roughly across the

room.

Half a dozen steps he had taken when there came a sudden crash of

breaking glass from the window across the chamber. Both turned in

astonishment to see the figure of a man leap into the room, carrying

the shattered crystal and the casement with him. In one hand was a

naked sword.

“The king!” cried Emma von der Tann.

“The devil!” muttered Maenck, as, dropping the girl, he scurried toward

the great painting from behind which he had found ingress to the

chambers of the princess.

Maenck was a coward, and he had seen murder in the eyes of the man

rushing upon him. With a bound he reached the picture which still stood

swung wide into the room.

Barney was close behind him, but fear lent wings to the governor of

Blentz, so that he was able to dart into the passage behind the picture

and slam the door behind him a moment before the infuriated man was

upon him.

The American clawed at the edge of the massive frame, but all to no

avail. Then he raised his sword and slashed the canvas, hoping to find

a way into the place beyond, but mighty oaken panels barred his further

progress. With a whispered oath he turned back toward the girl.

“Thank Heaven that I was in time, Emma,” he cried.

“Oh, Leopold, my king, but at what a price,” replied the girl. “He will

return now with others and kill you. He is furious—so furious that he

scarce knows what he does.”

“He seemed to know what he was doing when he ran for that hole in the

wall,” replied Barney with a grin. “But come, it won’t pay to let them

find us should they return.”

Together they hastened to the window beyond which the girl could see a

rope dangling from above. The sight of it partially solved the riddle

of the king’s almost uncanny presence upon her window sill in the very

nick of time.

Below, the lights in the watch tower at the outer gate were plainly

visible, and the twinkling of them reminded Barney of the danger of

detection from that quarter. Quickly he recrossed the apartment to the

wall-switch that operated the recently installed electric lights, and

an instant later the chamber was in total darkness.

Once more at the girl’s side Barney drew in one end of the rope and

made it fast about her body below her arms, leaving a sufficient length

terminating in a small loop to permit her to support herself more

comfortably with one foot within the noose. Then he stepped to the

outer sill, and reaching down assisted her to his side.

Far below them the moonlight played upon the sluggish waters of the

moat. In the distance twinkled the lights of the village of Blentz.

From the courtyard and the palace came faintly the sound of voices, and

the movement of men. A horse whinnied from the stables.

Barney turned his eyes upward. He could see the head and shoulders of

Joseph leaning from the window of the chamber directly above them.

“Hoist away, Joseph!” whispered the American, and to the girl: “Be

brave. Shut your eyes and trust to Joseph and—and—”

“And my king,” finished the girl for him.

His arm was about her shoulders, supporting her upon the narrow sill.

His cheek so close to hers that once he felt the soft velvet of it

brush his own. Involuntarily his arm tightened about the supple body.

“My princess!” he murmured, and as he turned his face toward hers their

lips almost touched.

Joseph was pulling upon the rope from above. They could feel it tighten

beneath the girl’s arms. Impulsively Barney Custer drew the sweet lips

closer to his own. There was no resistance.

“I love you,” he whispered. The words were smothered as their lips met.

Joseph, above, wondered at the great weight of the Princess Emma von

der Tann.

“I love you, Leopold, forever,” whispered the girl, and then as

Joseph’s Herculean tugging seemed likely to drag them both from the

narrow sill, Barney lifted the girl upward with one hand while he clung

to the window frame with the other. The distance to the sill above was

short, and a moment later Joseph had grasped the princess’s hand and

was helping her over the ledge into the room beyond.

At the same instant there came a sudden commotion from the interior of

the room in the window of which Barney still stood waiting for Joseph

to remove the rope from about the princess and lower it for him. Barney

heard the heavy feet of men, the clank of arms, and muttered oaths as

the searchers stumbled against the furniture.

Presently one of them found the switch and instantly the room was

flooded with light, which revealed to the American a dozen Luthanian

troopers headed by the murderous Maenck.

Barney looked anxiously aloft. Would Joseph never lower that rope!

Within the room the men were searching. He could hear Maenck directing

them. Only a thin portiere screened him from their view. It was but a

matter of seconds before they would investigate the window through

which Maenck knew the king had found ingress.

Yes! It had come.

“Look to the window,” commanded Maenck. “He may have gone as he came.”

Two of the soldiers crossed the room toward the casement. From above

Joseph was lowering the rope; but it was too late. The men would be at

the window before he could clamber out of their reach.

“Hoist away!” he whispered to Joseph. “Quick now, my man, and make your

escape with the Princess von der Tann. It is the king’s command.”

Already the soldiers were at the window. At the sound of his voice they

tore aside the draperies; at the same instant the pseudo-king turned

and leaped out into the blackness of the night.

There were exclamations of surprise and rage from the soldiers—a

woman’s scream. Then from far below came a dull splash as the body of

Bernard Custer struck the surface of the moat.

Maenck, leaning from the window, heard the scream and the splash, and

jumped to the conclusion that both the king and the princess had

attempted to make their escape in this harebrained way. Immediately all

the resources at his command were put to the task of searching the moat

and the adjacent woods.

He was sure that one or both of the prisoners would be stunned by

impact with the surface of the water, and then drowned before they

regained consciousness, but he did not know Bernard Custer, nor the

facility and almost uncanny ease with which that young man could

negotiate a high dive into shallow water.

Nor did he know that upon the floor above him one Joseph was hastening

along a dark corridor toward a secret panel in another apartment, and

that with him was the Princess Emma bound for liberty and safety far

from the frowning walls of Blentz.

As Barney’s head emerged above the surface of the moat he shook it

vigorously to free his eyes from water, and then struck out for the

further bank.

Long before his pursuers had reached the courtyard and alarmed the

watch at the barbican, the American had crawled out upon dry land and

hastened across the broad clearing to the patch of stunted trees that

grew lower down upon the steep hillside before the castle.

He shrank from the thought of leaving Blentz without knowing positively

that Joseph had made good the escape of himself and the princess, but

he finally argued that even if they had been retaken, he could serve

her best by hastening to her father and fetching the only succor that

might prevail against the strength of Blentz—armed men in sufficient

force to storm the ancient fortress.

He had scarcely entered the wood when he heard the sound of the

searchers at the moat, and saw the rays of their lanterns flitting

hither and thither as they moved back and forth along the bank.

Then the young man turned his face from the castle and set forth across

the unfamiliar country in the direction of the Old Forest and the

castle Von der Tann.

The memory of the warm lips that had so recently been pressed to his

urged him on in the service of the wondrous girl who had come so

suddenly into his life, bringing to him the realization of a love that

he knew must alter, for happiness or for sorrow, all the balance of his

existence, even unto death.

He dreaded the day of reckoning when, at last, she must learn that he

was no king. He did not have the temerity to hope that her courage

would be equal to the great sacrifice which the acknowledgment of her

love for one not of noble blood must entail; but he could not believe

that she would cease to love him when she learned the truth.

So the future looked black and cheerless to Barney Custer as he trudged

along the rocky, moonlit way. The only bright spot was the realization

that for a while at least he might be serving the one woman in all the

world.

All the balance of the long night the young man traversed valley and

mountain, holding due south in the direction he supposed the Old Forest

to lie. He passed many a little farm tucked away in the hollow of a

hillside, and quaint hamlets, and now and then the ruins of an ancient

feudal stronghold, but no great forest of black oaks loomed before him

to apprise him of the nearness of his goal, nor did he dare to ask the

correct route at any of the homes he passed.

His fatal likeness to the description of the mad king of Lutha warned

him from intercourse with the men of Lutha until he might know which

were friends and which enemies of the hapless monarch.

Dawn found him still upon his way, but with the determination fully

crystallized to hail the first man he met and ask the way to Tann. He

still avoided the main traveled roads, but from time to time he

paralleled them close enough that he might have ample opportunity to

hail the first passerby.

The road was becoming more and more mountainous and difficult. There

were fewer homes and no hamlets, and now he began to despair entirely

of meeting any who could give him direction unless he turned and

retraced his steps to the nearest farm.

Directly before him the narrow trail he had been following for the past

few miles wound sharply about the shoulder of a protruding cliff. He

would see what lay beyond the turn—perhaps he would find the Old Forest

there, after all.

But instead he found something very different, though in its way quite

as interesting, for as he rounded the rugged bluff he came face to face

with two evil-looking fellows astride stocky, rough-coated ponies.

At sight of him they drew in their mounts and eyed him suspiciously.

Nor was there great cause for wonderment in that, for the American

presented aught but a respectable appearance. His khaki motoring suit,

soaked from immersion in the moat, had but partially dried upon him.

Mud from the banks of the stagnant pool caked his legs to the knees,

almost hiding his once tan puttees. More mud streaked his jacket front

and stained its sleeves to the elbows. He was bare-headed, for his cap

had remained in the moat at Blentz, and his disheveled hair was tousled

upon his head, while his full beard had dried into a weird and tangled

fringe about his face. At his side still hung the sword that Joseph had

buckled there, and it was this that caused the two men the greatest

suspicion of this strange looking character.

They continued to eye Barney in silence, every now and then casting

apprehensive glances beyond him, as though expecting others of his kind

to appear in the trail at his back. And that is precisely what they did

fear, for the sword at Barney’s side had convinced them that he must be

an officer of the army, and they looked to see his command following in

his wake.

The young man saluted them pleasantly, asking the direction to the Old

Forest. They thought it strange that a soldier of Lutha should not know

his own way about his native land, and so judged that his question was

but a blind to deceive them.

“Why do you not ask your own men the way?” parried one of the fellows.

“I have no men, I am alone,” replied Barney. “I am a stranger in Lutha

and have lost my way.”

He who had spoken before pointed to the sword at Barney’s side.

“Strangers traveling in Lutha do not wear swords,” he said. “You are an

officer. Why should you desire to conceal the fact from two honest

farmers? We have done nothing. Let us go our way.”

Barney looked his astonishment at this reply.

“Most certainly, go your way, my friends,” he said laughing. “I would

not delay you if I could; but before you go please be good enough to

tell me how to reach the Old Forest and the ancient castle of the

Prince von der Tann.”

For a moment the two men whispered together, then the spokesman turned

to Barney.

“We will lead you upon the right road. Come,” and the two turned their

horses, one of them starting slowly back up the trail while the other

remained waiting for Barney to pass him.

The American, suspecting nothing, voiced his thanks, and set out after

him who had gone before. As he passed the fellow who waited the latter

moved in behind him, so that Barney walked between the two.

Occasionally the rider at his back turned in his saddle to scan the

trail behind, as though still fearful that Barney had been lying to

them and that he would discover a company of soldiers charging down

upon them.

The trail became more and more difficult as they advanced, until Barney

wondered how the little horses clung to the steep mountainside, where

he himself had difficulty in walking without using his hand to keep

from falling.

Twice the American attempted to break through the taciturnity of his

guides, but his advances were met with nothing more than sultry grunts

or silence, and presently a suspicion began to obtrude itself among his

thoughts that possibly these “honest farmers” were something more

sinister than they represented themselves to be.

A malign and threatening atmosphere seemed to surround them. Even the

cat-like movement of their silent mounts breathed a sinister secrecy,

and now, for the first time, Barney noticed the short, ugly looking

carbines that were slung in boots at their saddle-horns. Then, prompted

to further investigation, he dropped back beside the man who had been

riding behind him, and as he did so he saw beneath the fellow’s cloak

the butts of two villainous-looking pistols.

As Barney dropped back beside him the man turned his mount across the

narrow trail, and reining him in motioned Barney ahead.

“I have changed my mind,” said the American, “about going to the Old

Forest.”

He had determined that he might as well have the thing out now as

later, and discover at once how he stood with these two, and whether or

not his suspicions of them were well grounded.

The man ahead had halted at the sound of Barney’s voice, and swung

about in the saddle.

“What’s the trouble?” he asked.

“He don’t want to go to the Old Forest,” explained his companion, and

for the first time Barney saw one of them grin. It was not at all a

pleasant grin, nor reassuring.

“He don’t, eh?” growled the other. “Well, he ain’t goin’, is he? Who

ever said he was?”

And then he, too, laughed.

“I’m going back the way I came,” said Barney, starting around the horse

that blocked his way.

“No, you ain’t,” said the horseman. “You’re goin’ with us.”

And Barney found himself gazing down the muzzle of one of the wicked

looking pistols.

For a moment he stood in silence, debating mentally the wisdom of

attempting to rush the fellow, and then, with a shake of his head, he

turned back up the trail between his captors.

“Yes,” he said, “on second thought I have decided to go with you. Your

logic is most convincing.”

VI.

A KING’S RANSOM

For another mile the two brigands conducted their captor along the

mountainside, then they turned into a narrow ravine near the summit of

the hills—a deep, rocky, wooded ravine into whose black shadows it

seemed the sun might never penetrate.

A winding path led crookedly among the pines that grew thickly in this

sheltered hollow, until presently, after half an hour of rough going,

they came upon a small natural clearing, rock-bound and impregnable.

As they filed from the wood Barney saw a score of villainous fellows

clustered about a camp fire where they seemed engaged in cooking their

noonday meal. Bits of meat were roasting upon iron skewers, and a great

iron pot boiled vigorously at one side of the blaze.

At the sound of their approach the men sprang to their feet in alarm,

and as many weapons as there were men leaped to view; but when they saw

Barney’s companions they returned their pistols to their holsters, and

at sight of Barney they pressed forward to inspect the prisoner.

“Who have we here?” shouted a big blond giant, who affected extremely

gaudy colors in his selection of wearing apparel, and whose pistols and

knife had their grips heavily ornamented with pearl and silver.

“A stranger in Lutha he calls himself,” replied one of Barney’s

captors. “But from the sword I take it he is one of old Peter’s

wolfhounds.”

“Well, he’s found the wolves at any rate,” replied the giant, with a

wide grin at his witticism. “And if Yellow Franz is the particular wolf

you’re after, my friend, why here I am,” he concluded, addressing the

American with a leer.

“I’m after no one,” replied Barney. “I tell you I’m a stranger, and I

lost my way in your infernal mountains. All I wish is to be set upon

the right road to Tann, and if you will do that for me you shall be

well paid for your trouble.”

The giant, Yellow Franz, had come quite close to Barney and was

inspecting him with an expression of considerable interest. Presently

he drew a soiled and much-folded paper from his breast. Upon one side

was a printed notice, and at the corners bits were torn away as though

the paper had once been tacked upon wood, and then torn down without

removing the tacks.

At sight of it Barney’s heart sank. The look of the thing was all too

familiar. Before the yellow one had commenced to read aloud from it

Barney had repeated to himself the words he knew were coming.

“‘Gray eyes,’” read the brigand, “‘brown hair, and a full,

reddish-brown beard.’ Herman and Friedrich, my dear children, you have

stumbled upon the richest haul in all Lutha. Down upon your

marrow-bones, you swine, and rub your low-born noses in the dirt before

your king.”

The others looked their surprise.

“The king?” one cried.

“Behold!” cried Yellow Franz. “Leopold of Lutha!”

He waved a ham-like hand toward Barney.

Among the rough men was a young smooth-faced boy, and now with wide

eyes he pressed forward to get a nearer view of the wonderful person of

a king.

“Take a good look at him, Rudolph,” cried Yellow Franz. “It is the

first and will probably be the last time you will ever see a king.

Kings seldom visit the court of their fellow monarch, Yellow Franz of

the Black Mountains.

“Come, my children, remove his majesty’s sword, lest he fall and stick

himself upon it, and then prepare the royal chamber, seeing to it that

it be made so comfortable that Leopold will remain with us a long time.

Rudolph, fetch food and water for his majesty, and see to it that the

silver plates and the golden goblets are well scoured and polished up.”

They conducted Barney to a miserable lean-to shack at one side of the

clearing, and for a while the motley crew loitered about bandying

coarse jests at the expense of the “king.” The boy, Rudolph, brought

food and water, he alone of them all evincing the slightest respect or

awe for the royalty of their unwilling guest.

After a time the men tired of the sport of king-baiting, for Barney

showed neither rancor nor outraged majesty at their keenest thrusts,

instead, often joining in the laugh with them at his own expense. They

thought it odd that the king should hold his dignity in so low esteem,

but that he was king they never doubted, attributing his denials to a

disposition to deceive them, and rob them of the “king’s ransom” they

had already commenced to consider as their own.

Shortly after Barney arrived at the rendezvous he saw a messenger

dispatched by Yellow Franz, and from the repeated gestures toward

himself that had accompanied the giant’s instructions to his emissary,

Barney was positive that the man’s errand had to do with him.

After the men had left his prison, leaving the boy standing awkwardly

in wide-eyed contemplation of his august charge, the American ventured

to open a conversation with his youthful keeper.

“Aren’t you rather young to be starting in the bandit business,

Rudolph?” asked Barney, who had taken a fancy to the youth.

“I do not want to be a bandit, your majesty,” whispered the lad; “but

my father owes Yellow Franz a great sum of money, and as he could not

pay the debt Yellow Franz stole me from my home and says that he will

keep me until my father pays him, and that if he does not pay he will

make a bandit of me, and that then some day I shall be caught and

hanged until I am dead.”

“Can’t you escape?” asked the young man. “It would seem to me that

there would be many opportunities for you to get away undetected.”

“There are, but I dare not. Yellow Franz says that if I run away he

will be sure to come across me some day again and that then he will

kill me.”

Barney laughed.

“He is just talking, my boy,” he said. “He thinks that by frightening

you he will be able to keep you from running away.”

“Your majesty does not know him,” whispered the youth, shuddering. “He

is the wickedest man in all the world. Nothing would please him more

than killing me, and he would have done it long since but for two

things. One is that I have made myself useful about his camp, doing

chores and the like, and the other is that were he to kill me he knows

that my father would never pay him.”

“How much does your father owe him?”

“Five hundred marks, your majesty,” replied Rudolph. “Two hundred of

this amount is the original debt, and the balance Yellow Franz has

added since he captured me, so that it is really ransom money. But my

father is a poor man, so that it will take a long time before he can

accumulate so large a sum.

“You would really like to go home again, Rudolph?”

“Oh, very much, your majesty, if I only dared.” Barney was silent for

some time, thinking. Possibly he could effect his own escape with the

connivance of Rudolph, and at the same time free the boy. The paltry

ransom he could pay out of his own pocket and send to Yellow Franz

later, so that the youth need not fear the brigand’s revenge. It was

worth thinking about, at any rate.

“How long do you imagine they will keep me, Rudolph?” he asked after a

time.

“Yellow Franz has already sent Herman to Lustadt with a message for

Prince Peter, telling him that you are being held for ransom, and

demanding the payment of a huge sum for your release. Day after

tomorrow or the next day he should return with Prince Peter’s reply.

“If it is favorable, arrangements will be made to turn you over to

Prince Peter’s agents, who will have to come to some distant meeting

place with the money. A week, perhaps, it will take, maybe longer.”

It was the second day before Herman returned from Lustadt. He rode in

just at dark, his pony lathered from hard going.

Barney and the boy saw him coming, and the youth ran forward with the

others to learn the news that he had brought; but Yellow Franz and his

messenger withdrew to a hut which the brigand chief reserved for his

own use, nor would he permit any beside the messenger to accompany him

to hear the report.

For half an hour Barney sat alone waiting for word from Yellow Franz

that arrangements had been consummated for his release, and then out of

the darkness came Rudolph, wide-eyed and trembling.

“Oh, my king?” he whispered. “What shall we do? Peter has refused to

ransom you alive, but he has offered a great sum for unquestioned proof

of your death. Already he has caused a proclamation to be issued

stating that you have been killed by bandits after escaping from

Blentz, and ordering a period of national mourning. In three weeks he

is to be crowned king of Lutha.”

“When do they intend terminating my existence?” queried Barney.

There was a smile upon his lips, for even now he could scarce believe

that in the twentieth century there could be any such medieval plotting

against a king’s life, and yet, on second thought, had he not ample

proof of the lengths to which Peter of Blentz was willing to go to

obtain the crown of Lutha!

“I do not know, your majesty,” replied Rudolph, “when they will do it;

but soon, doubtless, since the sooner it is done the sooner they can

collect their pay.”

Further conversation was interrupted by the sound of footsteps without,

and an instant later Yellow Franz entered the squalid apartment and the

dim circle of light which flickered feebly from the smoky lantern that

hung suspended from the rafters.

He stopped just within the doorway and stood eyeing the American with

an ugly grin upon his vicious face. Then his eyes fell upon the

trembling Rudolph.

“Get out of here, you!” he growled. “I’ve got private business with

this king. And see that you don’t come nosing round either, or I’ll

slit that soft throat for you.”

Rudolph slipped past the burly ruffian, barely dodging a brutal blow

aimed at him by the giant, and escaped into the darkness without.

“And now for you, my fine fellow,” said the brigand, turning toward

Barney. “Peter says you ain’t worth nothing to him—alive, but that your

dead body will fetch us a hundred thousand marks.”

“Rather cheap for a king, isn’t it?” was Barney’s only comment.

“That’s what Herman tells him,” replied Yellow Franz. “But he’s a close

one, Peter is, and so it was that or nothing.”

“When are you going to pull off this little—er—ah—royal demise?” asked

Barney.

“If you mean when am I going to kill you,” replied the bandit, “why,

there ain’t no particular rush about it. I’m a tender-hearted chap, I

am. I never should have been in this business at all, but here I be,

and as there ain’t nobody that can do a better job of the kind than me,

or do it so painlessly, why I just got to do it myself, and that’s all

there is to it. But, as I says, there ain’t no great rush. If you want

to pray, why, go ahead and pray. I’ll wait for you.”

“I don’t remember,” said Barney, “when I have met so generous a party

as you, my friend. Your self-sacrificing magnanimity quite overpowers

me. It reminds me of another unloved Robin Hood whom I once met. It was

in front of Burket’s coal-yard on Ella Street, back in dear old

Beatrice, at some unchristian hour of the night.

“After he had relieved me of a dollar and forty cents he remarked: ‘I

gotta good mind to kick yer slats in fer not havin’ more of de cush on

yeh; but I’m feelin’ so good about de last guy I stuck up I’ll let

youse off dis time.’”

“I do not know what you are talking about,” replied Yellow Franz; “but

if you want to pray you’d better hurry up about it.”

He drew his pistol from its holster on the belt at his hips.

Now Barney Custer had no mind to give up the ghost without a struggle;

but just how he was to overcome the great beast who confronted him with

menacing pistol was, to say the least, not precisely plain. He wished

the man would come a little nearer where he might have some chance to

close with him before the fellow could fire. To gain time the American

assumed a prayerful attitude, but kept one eye on the bandit.

Presently Yellow Franz showed indications of impatience. He fingered

the trigger of his weapon, and then slowly raised it on a line with

Barney’s chest.

“Hadn’t you better come closer?” asked the young man. “You might miss

at that distance, or just wound me.”

Yellow Franz grinned.

“I don’t miss,” he said, and then: “You’re certainly a game one. If it

wasn’t for the hundred thousand marks, I’d be hanged if I’d kill you.”

“The chances are that you will be if you do,” said Barney, “so wouldn’t

you rather take one hundred and fifty thousand marks and let me make my

escape?”

Yellow Franz looked at the speaker a moment through narrowed lids.

“Where would you find any one willing to pay that amount for a crazy

king?” he asked.

“I have told you that I am not the king,” said Barney. “I am an

American with a father who would gladly pay that amount on my safe

delivery to any American consul.”

Yellow Franz shook his head and tapped his brow significantly.

“Even if you was what you are dreaming, it wouldn’t pay me,” he said.

“I’ll make it two hundred thousand,” said Barney.

“No—it’s a waste of time talking about it. It’s worth more than money

to me to know that I’ll always have this thing on Peter, and that when

he’s king he won’t dare bother me for fear I’ll publish the details of

this little deal. Come, you must be through praying by this time. I

can’t wait around here all night.” Again Yellow Franz raised his pistol

toward Barney’s heart.

Before the brigand could pull the trigger, or Barney hurl himself upon

his would-be assassin, there was a flash and a loud report from the

open window of the shack.

With a groan Yellow Franz crumpled to the dirt floor, and

simultaneously Barney was upon him and had wrested the pistol from his

hand; but the precaution was unnecessary for Yellow Franz would never

again press finger to trigger. He was dead even before Barney reached

his side.

In possession of the weapon, the American turned toward the window from

which had come the rescuing shot, and as he did so he saw the boy,

Rudolph, clambering over the sill, white-faced and trembling. In his

hand was a smoking carbine, and on his brow great beads of cold sweat.

“God forgive me!” murmured the youth. “I have killed a man.”

“You have killed a dangerous wild beast, Rudolph,” said Barney, “and

both God and your fellow man will thank and reward you.”

“I am glad that I killed him, though,” went on the boy, “for he would

have killed you, my king, had I not done so. Gladly would I go to the

gallows to save my king.”

“You are a brave lad, Rudolph,” said Barney, “and if ever I get out of

the pretty pickle I’m in you’ll be well rewarded for your loyalty to

Leopold of Lutha. After all,” thought the young man, “being a kind has

its redeeming features, for if the boy had not thought me his monarch

he would never have risked the vengeance of the bloodthirsty brigands

in this attempt to save me.”

“Hasten, your majesty,” whispered the boy, tugging at the sleeve of

Barney’s jacket. “There is no time to be lost. We must be far away from

here when the others discover that Yellow Franz has been killed.”

Barney stooped above the dead man, and removing his belt and cartridges

transferred them to his own person. Then blowing out the lantern the

two slipped out into the darkness of the night.

About the camp fire of the brigands the entire pack was congregated.

They were talking together in low voices, ever and anon glancing

expectantly toward the shack to which their chief had gone to dispatch

the king. It is not every day that a king is murdered, and even these

hardened cut-throats felt the spell of awe at the thought of what they

believed the sharp report they had heard from the shack portended.

Keeping well to the far side of the clearing, Rudolph led Barney around

the group of men and safely into the wood below them. From this point

the boy followed the trail which Barney and his captors had traversed

two days previously, until he came to a diverging ravine that led

steeply up through the mountains upon their right hand.

In the distance behind them they suddenly heard, faintly, the shouting

of men.

“They have discovered Yellow Franz,” whispered the boy, shuddering.

“Then they’ll be after us directly,” said Barney.

“Yes, your majesty,” replied Rudolph, “but in the darkness they will

not see that we have turned up this ravine, and so they will ride on

down the other. I have chosen this way because their horses cannot

follow us here, and thus we shall be under no great disadvantage. It

may be, however, that we shall have to hide in the mountains for a

while, since there will be no place of safety for us between here and

Lustadt until after the edge of their anger is dulled.”

And such proved to be the case, for try as they would they found it

impossible to reach Lustadt without detection by the brigands who

patrolled every highway and byway from their rugged mountains to the

capital of Lutha.

For nearly three weeks Barney and the boy hid in caves or dense

underbrush by day, and by night sought some avenue which would lead

them past the vigilant sentries that patrolled the ways to freedom.

Often they were wet by rains, nor were they ever in the warm sunlight

for a sufficient length of time to become thoroughly dry and

comfortable. Of food they had little, and of the poorest quality.

They dared not light a fire for warmth or cooking, and their light was

so miserable that, but for the boy’s pitiful terror at the thought of

being recaptured by the bandits, Barney would long since have made a

break for Lustadt, depending upon their arms and ammunition to carry

them safely through were they discovered by their enemies.

Rudolph had contracted a severe cold the first night, and now, it

having settled upon his lungs, he had developed a persistent and

aggravating cough that caused Barney not a little apprehension. When,

after nearly three weeks of suffering and privation, it became clear

that the boy’s lungs were affected, the American decided to take

matters into his own hands and attempt to reach Lustadt and a good

doctor; but before he had an opportunity to put his plan into execution

the entire matter was removed from his jurisdiction.

It happened like this: After a particularly fatiguing and uncomfortable

night spent in attempting to elude the sentinels who blocked their way

from the mountains, daylight found them near a little spring, and here

they decided to rest for an hour before resuming their way.

The little pool lay not far from a clump of heavy bushes which would

offer them excellent shelter, as it was Barney’s intention to go into

hiding as soon as they had quenched their thirst at the spring.

Rudolph was coughing pitifully, his slender frame wracked by the

convulsion of each new attack. Barney had placed an arm about the boy

to support him, for the paroxysms always left him very weak.