IN PERIL.
The rumbling noise came nearer and nearer, and Onrai and Mr. Graham
stood without saying a word. In some respects the noise resembled that
of the night before, but it came from the opposite direction.
Involuntarily the two watchers looked at the heavens, but seeing the
stars shining brightly, all fears of another storm were allayed.
“What can it be?” asked Mr. Graham.
“I cannot tell,” said Onrai. “It sounds like the tramp of many zebra,
but I cannot understand why there should be any riders out to-night,
unless it be a body of men who are on their way to to-morrow’s work. But
even they would have started so as to have reached their destination
long before this. It puzzles me greatly.”
“Could it be a body of men coming to you on a mission of some kind?”
asked Mr. Graham.
“No, none would come to me at this time of night,” said Onrai. “And then
there is no reason whatever for any of my people coming to me. The
people know my wishes regarding the repairs to be made where the storm
has brought ruin, and this is the only thing which they could wish to
consult me upon. But they come nearer, and now we can distinguish the
different sounds; yes, it is a body of riders, but where they are bound
I cannot say,” and as Onrai finished speaking, a hundred flickering
lights could be seen far down the avenue toward the town.
“Yes, it is a large body of men,” said Mr. Graham, as the riders came in
sight, “and they are riding fast, as if their mission, whatever it may
be, was important.”
“Yes, they seem in earnest,” said Onrai, “and they are turning toward
the villa. They are coming here. I cannot understand,” and Onrai looked
puzzled.
There seemed to be thousands of them as they rode toward the villa,
winding in and out between the trees, for they disdained the single
roadway. The leaders at last reached the terrace and seeing the King
standing with Mr. Graham, they dismounted and stood beside their steeds.
One of the leaders came forward and doffing his helmet and bowing low
before the King, said,
“We have come from the city, oh King, to consult you on a matter which
has come up to-day before the people.”
“I am always glad to heed the matters of my people. But why do you come
to me at this hour of the night; would not the morrow do as well? It is
late and within the villa lies one of our guests very near unto death, a
victim of yesternight’s storm. Will the matter not rest then until
daylight when a more suitable place can be chosen for its discussion,
and where there will be no fear of disturbing the fair sufferer? I ask
this not for myself but for one whose comfort you should all consider.”
“It is of her and her companions that we wish to speak,” answered the
man.
“And what manner of business can the people possibly have with the
strangers? Have they not been given into my charge and am I not
responsible for their welfare and comfort? I cannot understand your
reasons, man, for coming here on such an errand or the object the people
had in sending you. Have you lost confidence in the ability of the King,
to take care of and make enjoyable the life of our guests?”
“No, it is not that, oh King,” said the man. “We do not fear for the
well-being of the strangers nor do we doubt your power to make all
things pleasing for them. Our mission is of a different character; we
wish to complain of them.”
“To complain of them,” said Onrai. “What do you mean, man? Have my
people then so far forgotten their respect to the King’s wishes as to
complain to him of his guests or the guests of the Land of On? For have
not these strangers come to us from afar and have they not thrown
themselves on to our hospitality, and is it not our sacred duty to care
for them as long as they are with us? It is your duty as well as mine,
then why do you forget this so far as to make complaints of them?”
“We have not made these complaints as yet, oh King,” said the man, “and
we wished to place our suspicions before you and let you decide if they
be well-grounded before we would call them complaints. But complaints to
us seems to be the only fitting word to use in this connection.”
“I cannot understand you, my people,” said Onrai, “I was among you only
to-day and you said naught to me about this matter. You allowed me to
depart and come here without so much as a hint of your protest. Now, you
follow me but a short time after, at the dead of night, and here where a
fair life hangs by a thread; you come a thousand strong and voice your
miserable suspicions. Our life has been so quietly peaceful that this
trait has never before shown itself. A word which has almost passed from
our vocabulary alone can fit the act, and that is cowardice,” and as
Onrai ceased speaking he drew himself up grandly and faced them with
such a haughty bearing and scornful look that the leader drew back
involuntarily.
“No, no, King, not that,” said the man, “not that, for we had only your
and our own best wishes at heart when we came here at this hour of
night.”
“And had you no thought for those who are now under our protection? Had
you a right, even with complaints to make, to sneak here like a band of
jackals, in the dead of night? Why do you not come in the bright open
light of the day and then in numbers only equaling those against whom
you are going to make complaints, and not with a horde as if to
intimidate them.”
“Listen, oh King,” answered the man. “You must know that this is an
event which has never before occurred in our land, and the people did
not know how to act. They then got together and decided that we were to
come to-night, and in a large body; this is to impress the strangers
within our land that, although war and strife, such as our sacred
writings speak of, are unknown to us, still we can come before them in a
formidable body and fight for our fair Land of On.”
“Are you mad, man?” asked Onrai. “What is this I hear? Are you talking
of waging war against a handful of strangers, whom you ought to protect?
Do you speak of war, that which has never been heard of in this land?
Have the people of On gone mad with the advent of the storm?” and Onrai
turned and strode up and down the terrace.
Mr. Bruce and Harry had come on to the terrace and now stood back with
Mr. Graham but saying nothing, so alarmed were they over the new turn
things had taken. The leader of the party said nothing for a few moments
after the King had finished speaking the last time. He seemed convinced
of the justice of the King’s remarks, but still he had a mission to
perform and he was expected to carry it out to the letter. Again
stepping forward, he said:
“We do not come to fight the few of another sphere, who are now here but
to fight those of this race who might come to help them. These people
came in the dead of night to our land; we know not how they came or
whence they came and how should we know but that they could call to
their assistance thousands of others. It is this possibility that we
have prepared ourselves for.”
Onrai turned on the man almost savagely and said:
“Enough, now. I will listen to no more to-night. Begone, and find you
quarters until morning, when I will meet you near here on the shore of
the lake and hear these miserable complaints which you have to make.
Discuss the matter well among yourselves to-night, but remember this,
that I come to you to-morrow morning prepared to refute any statements
which you may make against our guests. Your fears, whatever they are,
are based on superstition and are simple. Now go and move away quietly,
so as not to disturb the woman whom you come to war against.”
The men remounted after this and rode away, but not far, for when the
shores of the lake were reached they halted, and made preparations to
spend the night. Even at the villa the low hum of their voices could be
heard as they discussed the subject which had brought them here.
After their departure Mr. Bruce stepped up to Onrai, who was standing,
lost in thought over the unexpected turn which events had taken, and
said, “What is it, Onrai?”
“I cannot tell,” said the King, “but the people seem to have taken a
sudden fear of your party. Never before have I seen this quality in my
people and it worries me, for now that it is aroused it is hard to tell
where it will end.”
“But why should this sudden dislike and fear of us have taken possession
of them,” asked Mr. Bruce. “Heretofore they have done all in their power
to make our stay in their country pleasant. Something strange must have
happened to make them change so suddenly.”
“Have no fear, my friends,” said Onrai. “Whatever it is, I will learn
to-morrow and then I will know how to meet their arguments. They will
abide by my decision and will again extend to you their friendship.”
They were now called into the sick-room for Enola had again awakened.
She was still raving about Gip, nothing else seeming to break through
the dark pall which had fallen over her mind. Loudly she called “Gip,
Gip, Gip,” half raising from her couch.
As if in answer to her call a noise is heard outside and through one of
the open arches Gip pushes his great bandaged head. Enola seems to hear
the sound and, turning, sees the mighty head and before they can
restrain her, she springs forward and clasping the trunk in her arms
cries, “My noble, true friend, Gip, you have saved me.”