WINMX Assorted Textfiles/Ebooks.tar/Text - Compilations - The Library - Volume 05 - A to C - 281 fiction ebooks (PDF HTM(L) RTF TXT DOC).zip/Burroughs, Edgar Rice - The Mad King.txt

Text File | 1995-11-11 | 544KB | 12,527 lines

Project Gutenberg Etext of The Mad King by Edgar Rice Burroughs

Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check
the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!!

Please take a look at the important information in this header.
We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an
electronic path open for the next readers.  Do not remove this.

Please take a look at the important information in this header.
We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an
electronic path open for the next readers.  Do not remove this.


**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**

**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**

*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations*

Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and
further information is included below.  We need your donations.


The Mad King

by Edgar Rice Burroughs

November, 1995  [Etext #364]


The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Mad King by Edgar Rice Burroughs

*****This file should be named mdkng10.txt or mdkng10.zip******

Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, mdkng11.txt
VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, mdkng10a.txt


This etext was created by Judith Boss, Omaha, Nebraska.
The equipment: an IBM-compatible 486/50, a Hewlett-Packard
ScanJet IIc flatbed scanner, and Calera Recognition Systems'
M/600 Series Professional OCR software and RISC accelerator board
donated by Calera Recognition Systems.

We are now trying to release all our books one month in advance
of the official release dates, for time for better editing.

Please note:  neither this list nor its contents are final till
midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement.
The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at
Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month.  A
preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment
and editing by those who wish to do so.  To be sure you have an
up to date first edition [xxxxx10x.xxx] please check file sizes
in the first week of the next month.  Since our ftp program has
a bug in it that scrambles the date [tried to fix and failed] a
look at the file size will have to do, but we will try to see a
new copy has at least one byte more or less.


Information about Project Gutenberg (one page)

We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work.  The
fifty hours is one conservative estimate for how long it we take
to get any etext selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright
searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc.  This
projected audience is one hundred million readers.  If our value
per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $4
million dollars per hour this year as we release some eight text
files per month:  thus upping our productivity from $2 million.

The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away One Trillion Etext
Files by the December 31, 2001.  [10,000 x 100,000,000=Trillion]
This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers,
which is 10% of the expected number of computer users by the end
of the year 2001.

We need your donations more than ever!

All donations should be made to "Project Gutenberg/IBC", and are
tax deductible to the extent allowable by law ("IBC" is Illinois
Benedictine College).  (Subscriptions to our paper newsletter go
to IBC, too)

For these and other matters, please mail to:

Project Gutenberg
P. O. Box  2782
Champaign, IL 61825

When all other email fails try our Michael S. Hart, Executive
Director:
[e-mail] (internet)   hart@uiucvmd   (bitnet)

We would prefer to send you this information by email
(Internet, Bitnet, Compuserve, ATTMAIL or MCImail).

******
If you have an FTP program (or emulator), please
FTP directly to the Project Gutenberg archives:
[Mac users, do NOT point and click. . .type]

ftp uiarchive.cso.uiuc.edu
login:  anonymous
password:  your@login
cd etext/etext90 through /etext96
or cd etext/articles [get suggest gut for more information]
dir [to see files]
get or mget [to get files. . .set bin for zip files]
GET INDEX?00.GUT
for a list of books
and
GET NEW GUT for general information
and
MGET GUT* for newsletters.

**Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor**
(Three Pages)


***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS**START***
Why is this "Small Print!" statement here?  You know: lawyers.
They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with
your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from
someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our
fault.  So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement
disclaims most of our liability to you.  It also tells you how
you can distribute copies of this etext if you want to.

*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS ETEXT
By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm
etext, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept
this "Small Print!" statement.  If you do not, you can receive
a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this etext by
sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person
you got it from.  If you received this etext on a physical
medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request.

ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM ETEXTS
This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-
tm etexts, is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor
Michael S. Hart through the Project Gutenberg Association at
Illinois Benedictine College (the "Project").  Among other
things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright
on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and
distribute it in the United States without permission and
without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules, set forth
below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this etext
under the Project's "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark.

To create these etexts, the Project expends considerable
efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain
works.  Despite these efforts, the Project's etexts and any
medium they may be on may contain "Defects".  Among other
things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged
disk or other etext medium, a computer virus, or computer
codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.

LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES
But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below,
[1] the Project (and any other party you may receive this
etext from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext) disclaims all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including
legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR
UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT,
INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE
OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE
POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES.

If you discover a Defect in this etext within 90 days of
receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any)
you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that
time to the person you received it from.  If you received it
on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and
such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement
copy.  If you received it electronically, such person may
choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to
receive it electronically.

THIS ETEXT IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS".  NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS
TO THE ETEXT OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT
LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A
PARTICULAR PURPOSE.

Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or
the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the
above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you
may have other legal rights.

INDEMNITY
You will indemnify and hold the Project, its directors,
officers, members and agents harmless from all liability, cost
and expense, including legal fees, that arise directly or
indirectly from any of the following that you do or cause:
[1] distribution of this etext, [2] alteration, modification,
or addition to the etext, or [3] any Defect.

DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm"
You may distribute copies of this etext electronically, or by
disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this
"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg,
or:

[1]  Only give exact copies of it.  Among other things, this
     requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the
     etext or this "small print!" statement.  You may however,
     if you wish, distribute this etext in machine readable
     binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form,
     including any form resulting from conversion by word pro-
     cessing or hypertext software, but only so long as
     *EITHER*:

     [*]  The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable, and
          does *not* contain characters other than those
          intended by the author of the work, although tilde
          (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may
          be used to convey punctuation intended by the
          author, and additional characters may be used to
          indicate hypertext links; OR

     [*]  The etext may be readily converted by the reader at
          no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent
          form by the program that displays the etext (as is
          the case, for instance, with most word processors);
          OR

     [*]  You provide, or agree to also provide on request at
          no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the
          etext in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC
          or other equivalent proprietary form).

[2]  Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this
     "Small Print!" statement.

[3]  Pay a trademark license fee to the Project of 20% of the
     net profits you derive calculated using the method you
     already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  If you
     don't derive profits, no royalty is due.  Royalties are
     payable to "Project Gutenberg Association / Illinois
     Benedictine College" within the 60 days following each
     date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare)
     your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return.

WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO?
The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time,
scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty
free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution
you can think of.  Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg
Association / Illinois Benedictine College".

*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END*











EDGAR RICE
BURROUGHS

THE MAD KING







PART I


I

A RUNAWAY HORSE


ALL LUSTADT was in an uproar.  The mad king had es-
caped.  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 ju-
diciary, 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 es-
caped 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 es-
caped 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 intel-
ligence," 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 men-
ace to our peace and sovereignty.  With Von der Tann out
of the way there would be none powerful enough to ques-
tion 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 descrip-
tion 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 pur-
chased 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 ad-
vised 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
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 chug-
ging 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 any-
thing 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 evi-
dent 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 be 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 em-
bankment.

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 lung-
ing 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, out-
stretched, 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 ammuni-
tion.  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 in-
dulgently 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 pos-
sible 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 child-
hood 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 Bar-
ney, "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 Ameri-
can?" 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 be-
fore.  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 in-
dications of violence as yet, though when that too might
develop there was no telling.  However, he was to her Leo-
pold 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 per-
fectly 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 serious-
ness 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 es-
caped and then as gently as possible lead her back to it.
It was not safe for as beautiful a woman as she to be roam-
ing through the forest in any such manner as this.  He won-
dered 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 sud-
denly.

"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 laugh-
ing, 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, an-
nounced that the shock of your father's death had unbal-
anced 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 say-
ing 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 re-
minded 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, beside 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 pictur-
esque rags leaped out from behind a near-by bush, con-
fronting 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 es-
cape?"

"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 back-
ward.  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 need-
ing 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 pal-
ace 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 hur-
ried 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 sol-
diers 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 lieu-
tenant.

"Et tu, Brute?" he cried in anguished accents, letting
his head fall back into the girl's lap.  He found it very com-
fortable 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 com-
panions 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 high-
ness."

"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, sur-
rounded by troopers.  For a time they were both silent.  Bar-
ney 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 re-
called 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 be-
fore 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 think-
ing you insane."

"Did you think me mad?" she asked in wide-eyed aston-
ishment.

"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 tow-
ers 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 for-
ward 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 offi-
cer full in the face.

"She is the Princess von der Tann, you boor," said Bar-
ney, "and let that help you remember it in future."

The officer scrambled to his feet, white with rage.  Whip-
ping 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, Lieuten-
ant 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 sud-
denly, 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 court-
yard."

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 my-
self.

"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 descrip-
tion 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 en-
tire 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 help-
lessness 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 con-
fined.  You may return here afterward for my further in-
structions.  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 expres-
sion 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 back-
ward.  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 hav-
ing 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 sup-
planted 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 eves.  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
he 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 her-
self 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 appre-
hension of danger from the outside.

The girl found the boudoir not only beautiful, but ex-
tremely 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 bung in a lady's boudoir.  It seemed singu-
larly out of place.

"If she would but smile," thought Emma von der Tann,
"she would detract less from the otherwise pleasant sur-
roundings, 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 prin-
cess.

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 ad-
minister 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 dis-
order 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 be-
hind 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 an-
other 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 boy-
ish 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 be-
neath 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 beau-
tiful 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 im-
possibility was forced upon him.

It was decided that Joseph should leave the king's apart-
ment 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 en-
emy.

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 fire-
place 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 conceal-
ing the mouth of the passage.  From the vaults a corridor led
through another secret panel to the tunnel that wound down-
ward to the cave in the hillside.

"Beyond that we shall find horses, your majesty," con-
cluded 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," di-
rected 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 recol-
lection of the historic and venerated relic of the dead mon-
archs 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 stand-
ing 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 indi-
cate 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 ad-
mirably in immersing herself in the periodical, to the ex-
clusion 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 direc-
tion 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 si-
lence 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, mur-
derous 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 sud-
den 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 pas-
sage 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 pres-
ence 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 per-
mit 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 up-
ward 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 com-
mand 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 Prin-
cess Emma bound for liberty and safety far from the frown-
ing 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 hasten-
ing to her father and fetching the only succor that might
prevail against the strength of Blentz--armed men in suffi-
cient 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 hap-
piness 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 deter-
mination 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 direc-
tion 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 Bar-
ney'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 laugh-
ing.  "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 be 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 ad-
vanced, 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 taci-
turnity of his guides, but his advances were met with noth-
ing more than sultry grunts or silence, and presently a sus-
picion began to obtrude itself among his thoughts that pos-
sibly 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, promoted to fur-
ther 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 vil-
lainous 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 chil-
dren, 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 dis-
position to deceive them, and rob them of the "king's ran-
som" 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 re-
peated 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, per-
haps, it will take, maybe longer."

It was the second day before Herman returned from Lus-
tadt.  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 or-
dering 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 pain-
lessly, 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 an-
other 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 sig-
nificantly.

"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 unneces-
sary 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 dark-
ness 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 previ-
ously, 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 dark-
ness 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, how-
ever, 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 suffer-
ing 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 senti-
nels 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.

The young man's heart went out to the poor boy, and
pangs of regret filled his mind as he realized that the child's
pathetic condition was the direct result of his self-sacrificing
attempt to save his king.  Barney felt much like a murderer
and a thief, and dreaded the time when the boy should be
brought to a realization of his mistake.

He had come to feel a warm affection for the loyal little
lad, who had suffered so uncomplainingly and whose every
thought had been for the safety and comfort of his king.

Today, thought Barney, I'll take this child through to
Lustadt even if every ragged brigand in Lutha lies between
us and the capital; but even as he spoke a sudden crashing
of underbrush behind caused him to wheel about, and there,
not twenty paces from them, stood two of Yellow Franz's
cutthroats.

At sight of Barney and the lad they gave voice to a shout
of triumph, and raising their carbines fired point-blank at
the two fugitives.

But Barney had been equally as quick with his own
weapon, and at the moment that they fired he grasped Ru-
dolph and dragged him backward to a great boulder behind
which their bodies might be protected from the fire of their
enemies.

Both the bullets of the bandits' first volley had been di-
rected at Barney, for it was upon his head that the great
price rested.  They had missed him by a narrow margin,
due, perhaps, to the fact that the mounts of the brigands
had been prancing in alarm at the unexpected sight of the
two strangers at the very moment that their riders attempted
to take aim and fire.

But now they had ridden back into the brush and dis-
mounted, and after hiding their ponies they came creeping
out upon their bellies upon opposite sides of Barney's shelter.

The American saw that it would be an easy thing for
them to pick him off if he remained where he was, and so
with a word to Rudolph he sprang up and the boy with
him.  Each delivered a quick shot at the bandit nearest him,
and then together they broke for the bushes in which the
brigand's mounts were hidden.

Two shots answered theirs.  Rudolph, who was ahead of
Barney, stumbled and threw up his hands.  He would have
fallen had not the American thrown a strong arm about him.

"I'm shot, your majesty," murmured the boy, his head
dropping against Barney's breast.

With the lad grasped close to him, the young man turned
at the edge of the brush to meet the charge of the two
ruffians.  The wounding of the youth had delayed them just
enough to preclude their making this temporary refuge in
safety.

As Barney turned both the men fired simultaneously, and
both missed.  The American raised his revolver, and with the
flash of it the foremost brigand came to a sudden stop.  An
expression of bewilderment crossed his features.  He ex-
tended his arms straight before him, the revolver slipped
from his grasp, and then like a dying top he pivoted once
drunkenly and collapsed upon the turf.

At the instant of his fall his companion and the American
fired point-blank at one another.

Barney felt a burning sensation in his shoulder, but it was
forgotten for the moment in the relief that came to him as
he saw the second rascal sprawl headlong upon his face.
Then he turned his attention to the limp little figure that
hung across his left arm.

Gently Barney laid the boy upon the sward, and fetching
water from the pool bathed his face and forced a few drops
between the white lips.  The cooling draft revived the
wounded child, but brought on a paroxysm of coughing.
When this had subsided Rudolph raised his eyes to those
of the man bending above him.

"Thank God, your majesty is unharmed," he whispered.
"Now I can die in peace."

The white lids drooped lower, and with a tired sigh the
boy lay quiet.  Tears came to the young man's eyes as he
let the limp body gently to the ground.

"Brave little heart," he murmured, "you gave up your life
in the service of your king as truly as though you had not
been all mistaken in the object of your veneration, and if
it lies within the power of Barney Custer you shall not have
died in vain."




VII

THE REAL LEOPOLD

TWO HOURS later a horseman pushed his way between tum-
bled and tangled briers along the bottom of a deep ravine.

He was hatless, and his stained and ragged khaki be-
tokened much exposure to the elements and hard and con-
tinued usage.  At his saddle-bow a carbine swung in its boot,
and upon either hip was strapped a long revolver.  Am-
munition in plenty filled the cross belts that he had looped
about his shoulders.

Grim and warlike as were his trappings, no less grim was
the set of his strong jaw or the glint of his gray eyes, nor
did the patch of brown stain that had soaked through the
left shoulder of his jacket tend to lessen the martial atmos-
phere which surrounded him.  Fortunate it was for the brig-
ands of the late Yellow Franz that none of them chanced in
the path of Barney Custer that day.

For nearly two hours the man had ridden downward out
of the high hills in search of a dwelling at which he might
ask the way to Tann; but as yet he had passed but a single
house, and that a long untenanted ruin.  He was wondering
what had become of all the inhabitants of Lutha when his
horse came to a sudden halt before an obstacle which en-
tirely blocked the narrow trail at the bottom of the ravine.

As the horseman's eyes fell upon the thing they went wide
in astonishment, for it was no less than the charred rem-
nants of the once beautiful gray roadster that had brought
him into this twentieth century land of medieval adventure
and intrigue.  Barney saw that the machine had been lifted
from where it had fallen across the horse of the Princess
von der Tann, for the animal's decaying carcass now lay
entirely clear of it; but why this should have been done, or
by whom, the young man could not imagine.

A glance aloft showed him the road far above him, from
which he, the horse and the roadster had catapulted; and
with the sight of it there flashed to his mind the fair face of
the young girl in whose service the thing had happened.
Barney wondered if Joseph had been successful in returning
her to Tann, and he wondered, too, if she mourned for the
man she had thought king--if she would be very angry
should she ever learn the truth.

Then there came to the American's mind the figure of the
shopkeeper of Tafelberg, and the fellow's evident loyalty to
the mad king he had never seen.  Here was one who might
aid him, thought Barney.  He would have the will, at least
and with the thought the young man turned his pony's head
diagonally up the steep ravine side.

It was a tough and dangerous struggle to the road above,
but at last by dint of strenuous efforts on the part of the
sturdy little beast the two finally scrambled over the edge
of the road and stood once more upon level footing.

After breathing his mount for a few minutes Barney
swung himself into the saddle again and set off toward
Tafelberg.  He met no one upon the road, nor within the
outskirts of the village, and so he came to the door of the
shop he sought without attracting attention.

Swinging to the ground he tied the pony to one of the
supporting columns of the porch-roof and a moment later
had stepped within the shop.

From a back room the shopkeeper presently emerged, and
when he saw who it was that stood before him his eyes went
wide in consternation.

"In the name of all the saints, your majesty," cried the old
fellow, "what has happened?  How comes it that you are
out of the hospital, and travel-stained as though from a long,
hard ride?  I cannot understand it, sire."

"Hospital?" queried the young man.  "What do you mean,
my good fellow?  I have been in no hospital."

"You were there only last evening when I inquired after
you of the doctor," insisted the shopkeeper, "nor did any
there yet suspect your true identity."

"Last evening I was hiding far up in the mountains from
Yellow Franz's band of cutthroats," replied Barney.  "Tell me
what manner of riddle you are propounding."

Then a sudden light of understanding flashed through
Barney's mind.

"Man!" he exclaimed.  "Tell me--you have found the true
king?  He is at a hospital in Tafelberg?"

"Yes, your majesty, I have found the true king, and it is
so that he was at the Tafelberg sanatorium last evening.  It
was beside the remnants of your wrecked automobile that
two of the men of Tafelberg found you.

"One leg was pinioned beneath the machine which was
on fire when they discovered you.  They brought you to my
shop, which is the first on the road into town, and not
guessing your true identity they took my word for it that
you were an old acquaintance of mine and without more
ado turned you over to my care."

Barney scratched his head in puzzled bewilderment.  He
began to doubt if he were in truth himself, or, after all,
Leopold of Lutha.  As no one but himself could, by the
wildest stretch of imagination, have been in such a position,
he was almost forced to the conclusion that all that had
passed since the instant that his car shot over the edge of
the road into the ravine had been but the hallucinations
of a fever-excited brain, and that for the past three weeks
he had been lying in a hospital cot instead of experiencing
the strange and inexplicable adventures that he had believed
to have befallen him.

But yet the more he thought of it the more ridiculous
such a conclusion appeared, for it did not in the least explain
the pony tethered without, which he plainly could see from
where he stood within the shop, nor did it satisfactorily ac-
count for the blotch of blood upon his shoulder from a
wound so fresh that the stain still was damp; nor for the
sword which Joseph had buckled about his waist within
Blentz's forbidding walls; nor for the arms and ammunition
he had taken from the dead brigands--all of which he had
before him as tangible evidence of the rationality of the
past few weeks.

"My friend," said Barney at last, "I cannot wonder that
you have mistaken me for the king, since all those I have
met within Lutha have leaped to the same error, though
not one among them made the slightest pretense of ever
having seen his majesty.  A ridiculous beard started the
trouble, and later a series of happenings, no one of which
was particularly remarkable in itself, aggravated it, until
but a moment since I myself was almost upon the point of
believing that I am the king.

"But, my dear Herr Kramer, I am not the king; and when
you have accompanied me to the hospital and seen that your
patient still is there, you may be willing to admit that there
is some justification for doubt as to my royalty."

The old man shook his head.

"I am not so sure of that," he said, "for he who lies at the
hospital, providing you are not he, or he you, maintains as
sturdily as do you that he is not Leopold.  If one of you,
whichever be king--providing that you are not one and
the same, and that I be not the only maniac in the sad
muddle--if one of you would but trust my loyalty and love
for the true king and admit your identity, then I might be
of some real service to that one of you who is really Leo-
pold.  Herr Gott!  My words are as mixed as my poor brain."

"If you will listen to me, Herr Kramer," said Barney, "and
believe what I tell you, I shall be able to unscramble your
ideas in so far as they pertain to me and my identity.  As to
the man you say was found beneath my car, and who now
lies in the sanatorium of Tafelberg, I cannot say until I have
seen and talked with him.  He may be the king and he may
not; but if he insists that he is not, I shall be the last to
wish a kingship upon him.  I know from sad experience the
hardships and burdens that the thing entails."

Then Barney narrated carefully and in detail the principal
events of his life, from his birth in Beatrice to his coming to
Lutha upon pleasure.  He showed Herr Kramer his watch
with his monogram upon it, his seal ring, and inside the
pocket of his coat the label of his tailor, with his own name
written beneath it and the date that the garment had been
ordered.

When he had completed his narrative the old man shook
his head.

"I cannot understand it," he said; "and yet I am almost
forced to believe that you are not the king."

"Direct me to the sanatorium," suggested Barney, "and if
it be within the range of possibility I shall learn whether the
man who lies there is Leopold or another, and if he be the
king I shall serve him as loyally as you would have served
me.  Together we may assist him to gain the safety of Tann
and the protection of old Prince Ludwig."

"If you are not the king," said Kramer suspiciously, "why
should you be so interested in aiding Leopold?  You may
even be an enemy.  How can I know?"

"You cannot know, my good friend," replied Barney.  "But
had I been an enemy, how much more easily might I have
encompassed my designs, whatever they might have been,
had I encouraged you to believe that I was king.  The fact
that I did not, must assure you that I have no ulterior
designs against Leopold."

This line of reasoning proved quite convincing to the old
shopkeeper, and at last he consented to lead Barney to the
sanatorium.  Together they traversed the quiet village streets
to the outskirts of the town, where in large, park-like grounds
the well-known sanatorium of Tafelberg is situated in quiet
surroundings.  It is an institution for the treatment of nervous
diseases to which patients are brought from all parts of
Europe, and is doubtless Lutha's principal claim upon the
attention of the outer world.

As the two crossed the gardens which lay between the
gate and the main entrance and mounted the broad steps
leading to the veranda an old servant opened the door, and
recognizing Herr Kramer, nodded pleasantly to him.

"Your patient seems much brighter this morning, Herr
Kramer," he said, "and has been asking to be allowed to
sit up."

"He is still here, then?" questioned the shopkeeper with
a sigh that might have indicated either relief or resignation.

"Why, certainly.  You did not expect that he had entirely
recovered overnight, did you?"

"No," replied Herr Kramer, "not exactly.  In fact, I did
not know what I should expect."

As the two passed him on their way to the room in which
the patient lay, the servant eyed Herr Kramer in surprise, as
though wondering what had occurred to his mentality since
he had seen him the previous day.  He paid no attention to
Barney other than to bow to him as he passed, but there
was another who did--an attendant standing in the hallway
through which the two men walked toward the private room
where one of them expected to find the real mad king of
Lutha.

He was a dark-visaged fellow, sallow and small-eyed; and
as his glance rested upon the features of the American a
puzzled expression crossed his face.  He let his gaze follow
the two as they moved on up the corridor until they turned
in at the door of the room they sought, then he followed
them, entering an apartment next to that in which Herr
Kramer's patient lay.

As Barney and the shopkeeper entered the small, white-
washed room, the former saw upon the narrow iron cot the
figure of a man of about his own height.  The face that turned
toward them as they entered was covered by a full, reddish-
brown beard, and the eyes that looked up at them in trou-
bled surprise were gray.  Beyond these Barney could see no
likenesses to himself; yet they were sufficient, he realized,
to have deceived any who might have compared one solely
to the printed description of the other.

At the doorway Kramer halted, motioning Barney within.

"It will be better if you talk with him alone," he said.  "I
am sure that before both of us he will admit nothing."

Barney nodded, and the shopkeeper of Tafelberg with-
drew and closed the door behind him.  The American ap-
proached the bedside with a cheery "Good morning."

The man returned the salutation with a slight inclination
of his head.  There was a questioning look in his eyes; but
dominating that was a pitiful, hunted expression that touched
the American's heart.

The man's left hand lay upon the coverlet.  Barney glanced
at the third finger.  About it was a plain gold band.  There
was no royal ring of the kings of Lutha in evidence, yet
that was no indication that the man was not Leopold; for
were he the king and desirous of concealing his identity, his
first act would be to remove every symbol of his kingship.

Barney took the hand in his.

"They tell me that you are well on the road to recovery,"
he said.  "I am very glad that it is so."

"Who are you?" asked the man.

"I am Bernard Custer, an American.  You were found
beneath my car at the bottom of a ravine.  I feel that I owe
you full reparation for the injuries you received, though
it is beyond me how you happened to be found under the
machine.  Unless I am truly mad, I was the only occupant
of the roadster when it plunged over the embankment."

"It is very simple," replied the man upon the cot.  "I
chanced to be at the bottom of the ravine at the time and
the car fell upon me."

"What were you doing at the bottom of the ravine?" asked
Barney quite suddenly, after the manner of one who ad-
ministers a third degree.

The man started and flushed with suspicion.

"That is my own affair," he said.

He tried to disengage his hand from Barney's, and as he
did so the American felt something within the fingers of the
other.  For an instant his own fingers tightened upon those
that lay within them, so that as the others were withdrawn
his index finger pressed close upon the thing that had
aroused his curiosity.

It was a large setting turned inward upon the third
finger of the left hand.  The gold band that Barney had
seen was but the opposite side of the same ring.

A quick look of comprehension came to Barney's eyes.  The
man upon the cot evidently noted it and rightly interpreted
its cause, for, having freed his hand, he now slipped it
quickly beneath the coverlet.

"I have passed through a series of rather remarkable ad-
ventures since I came to Lutha," said Barney apparently
quite irrelevantly, after the two had remained silent for a
moment.  "Shortly after my car fell upon you I was mistaken
for the fugitive King Leopold by the young lady whose
horse fell into the ravine with my car.  She is a most loyal
supporter of the king, being none other than the Princess
Emma von der Tann.  From her I learned to espouse the
cause of Leopold."

Step by step Barney took the man through the adventures
that had befallen him during the past three weeks, closing
with the story of the death of the boy, Rudolph.

"Above his dead body I swore to serve Leopold of Lutha
as loyally as the poor, mistaken child had served me, your
majesty," and Barney looked straight into the eyes of him
who lay upon the little iron cot.

For a moment the man held his eyes upon those of the
American, but finally, under the latter's steady gaze, they
dropped and wandered.

"Why do you address me as 'your majesty'?" he asked
irritably.

"With my forefinger I felt the ruby and the four wings of
the setting of the royal ring of the kings of Lutha upon
the third finger of your left hand," replied Barney.

The king started up upon his elbow, his eyes wild with
apprehension.

"It is not so," he cried.  "It is a lie!  I am not the king."

"Hush!" admonished Barney.  "You have nothing to fear
from me.  There are good friends and loyal subjects in plenty
to serve and protect your majesty, and place you upon the
throne that has been stolen from you.  I have sworn to serve
you.  The old shopkeeper, Herr Kramer, who brought me
here, is an honest, loyal old soul.  He would die for you,
your majesty.  Trust us.  Let us help you.  Tomorrow, Kramer
tells me, Peter of Blentz is to have himself crowned as king
in the cathedral at Lustadt.

"Will you sit supinely by and see another rob you of your
kingdom, and then continue to rob and throttle your sub-
jects as he has been doing for the past ten years?  No, you
will not.  Even if you do not want the crown, you were
born to the duties and obligations it entails, and for the sake
of your people you must assume them now."

"How am I to know that you are not another of the
creatures of that fiend of Blentz?" cried the king.  "How am
I to know that you will not drag me back to the terrors of
that awful castle, and to the poisonous potions of the new
physician Peter has employed to assassinate me?  I can trust
none.

"Go away and leave me.  I do not want to be king.  I wish
only to go away as far from Lutha as I can get and pass
the balance of my life in peace and security.  Peter may
have the crown.  He is welcome to it, for all of me.  All I
ask is my life and my liberty."

Barney saw that while the king was evidently of sound
mind, his was not one of those iron characters and coura-
geous hearts that would willingly fight to the death for his
own rights and the rights and happiness of his people.  Per-
haps the long years of bitter disappointment and misery,
the tedious hours of imprisonment, and the constant haunt-
ing fears for his life had reduced him to this pitiable condi-
tion.

Whatever the cause, Barney Custer was determined to
overcome the man's aversion to assuming the duties which
were rightly his, for in his memory were the words of Emma
von der Tann, in which she had made plain to him the fate
that would doubtless befall her father and his house were
Peter of Blentz to become king of Lutha.  Then, too, there
was the life of the little peasant boy.  Was that to be given
up uselessly for a king with so mean a spirit that he would
not take a scepter when it was forced upon him?

And the people of Lutha?  Were they to be further and
continually robbed and downtrodden beneath the heel of
Peter's scoundrelly officials because their true king chose to
evade the responsibilities that were his by birth?

For half an hour Barney pleaded and argued with the
king, until he infused in the weak character of the young
man a part of his own tireless enthusiasm and courage.
Leopold commenced to take heart and see things in a brighter
and more engaging light.  Finally he became quite excited
about the prospects, and at last Barney obtained a willing
promise from him that he would consent to being placed
upon his throne and would go to Lustadt at any time that
Barney should come for him with a force from the retainers
of Prince Ludwig von der Tann.

"Let us hope," cried the king, "that the luck of the reign-
ing house of Lutha has been at last restored.  Not since my
aunt, the Princess Victoria, ran away with a foreigner has
good fortune shone upon my house.  It was when my father
was still a young man--before he had yet come to the
throne--and though his reign was marked with great peace
and prosperity for the people of Lutha, his own private
fortunes were most unhappy.

"My mother died at my birth, and the last days of my
father's life were filled with suffering from the cancer that
was slowly killing him.  Let us pray, Herr Custer, that you
have brought new life to the fortunes of my house."

"Amen, your majesty," said Barney.  "And now I'll be off
for Tann--there must not be a moment lost if we are to
bring you to Lustadt in time for the coronation.  Herr
Kramer will watch over you, but as none here guesses your
true identity you are safer here than anywhere else in Lutha.
Good-bye, your majesty.  Be of good heart.  We'll have you
on the road to Lustadt and the throne tomorrow morning."

After Barney Custer had closed the door of the king's
chamber behind him and hurried down the corridor, the door
of the room next the king's opened quietly and a dark-
visaged fellow, sallow and small-eyed, emerged.  Upon his
lips was a smile of cunning satisfaction, as he hastened to
the office of the medical director and obtained a leave of
absence for twenty-four hours.




VIII

THE CORONATION DAY

TOWARD DUSK of the day upon which the mad king of Lutha
had been found, a dust-covered horseman reined in before
the great gate of the castle of Prince Ludwig von der Tann.
The unsettled political conditions which overhung the little
kingdom of Lutha were evident in the return to medievalism
which the raised portcullis and the armed guard upon the
barbican of the ancient feudal fortress revealed.  Not for a
hundred years before had these things been done other
than as a part of the ceremonials of a fete day, or in honor
of visiting royalty.

At the challenge from the gate Barney replied that he
bore a message for the prince.  Slowly the portcullis sank
into position across the moat and an officer advanced to
meet the rider.

"The prince has ridden to Lustadt with a large retinue,"
he said, "to attend the coronation of Peter of Blentz to-
morrow."

"Prince Ludwig von der Tann has gone to attend the
coronation of Peter!" cried Barney in amazement.  "Has the
Princess Emma returned from her captivity in the castle of
Blentz?"

"She is with her father now, having returned nearly three
weeks ago," replied the officer, "and Peter has disclaimed
responsibility for the outrage, promising that those respon-
sible shall be punished.  He has convinced Prince Ludwig
that Leopold is dead, and for the sake of Lutha--to save
her from civil strife--my prince has patched a truce with
Peter; though unless I mistake the character of the latter
and the temper of the former it will be short-lived.

"To demonstrate to the people," continued the officer, "that
Prince Ludwig and Peter are good friends, the great Von
der Tann will attend the coronation, but that he takes little
stock in the sincerity of the Prince of Blentz would be ap-
parent could the latter have a peep beneath the cloaks and
look into the loyal hearts of the men of Tann who rode
down to Lustadt today."

Barney did not wait to hear more.  He was glad that in
the gathering dusk the officer had not seen his face plainly
enough to mistake him for the king.  With a parting, "Then
I must ride to Lustadt with my message for the prince," he
wheeled his tired mount and trotted down the steep trail
from Tann toward the highway which leads to the capital.

All night Barney rode.  Three times he wandered from the
way and was forced to stop at farmhouses to inquire the
proper direction; but darkness hid his features from the
sleepy eyes of those who answered his summons, and day-
light found him still forging ahead in the direction of the
capital of Lutha.

The American was sunk in unhappy meditation as his
weary little mount plodded slowly along the dusty road.
For hours the man had not been able to urge the beast out
of a walk.  The loss of time consequent upon his having
followed wrong roads during the night and the exhaustion
of the pony which retarded his speed to what seemed little
better than a snail's pace seemed to assure the failure of
his mission, for at best he could not reach Lustadt before
noon.

There was no possibility of bringing Leopold to his capital
in time for the coronation, and but a bare possibility that
Prince Ludwig would accept the word of an entire stranger
that Leopold lived, for the acknowledgment of such a con-
dition by the old prince could result in nothing less than an
immediate resort to arms by the two factions.  It was certain
that Peter would be infinitely more anxious to proceed with
his coronation should it be rumored that Leopold lived, and
equally certain that Prince Ludwig would interpose every
obstacle, even to armed resistance, to prevent the consum-
mation of the ceremony.

Yet there seemed to Barney no other alternative than to
place before the king's one powerful friend the information
that he had.  It would then rest with Ludwig to do what he
thought advisable.

An hour from Lustadt the road wound through a dense
forest, whose pleasant shade was a grateful relief to both
horse and rider from the hot sun beneath which they had
been journeying the greater part of the morning.  Barney
was still lost in thought, his eyes bent forward, when at a
sudden turning of the road he came face to face with a
troop of horse that were entering the main highway at this
point from an unfrequented byroad.

At sight of them the American instinctively wheeled his
mount in an effort to escape, but at a command from an
officer a half dozen troopers spurred after him, their fresh
horses soon overtaking his jaded pony.

For a moment Barney contemplated resistance, for these
were troopers of the Royal Horse, the body which was now
Peter's most effective personal tool; but even as his hand
slipped to the butt of one of the revolvers at his hip, the
young man saw the foolish futility of such a course, and
with a shrug and a smile he drew rein and turned to face
the advancing soldiers.

As he did so the officer rode up, and at sight of Barney's
face gave an exclamation of astonishment.  The officer was
Butzow.

"Well met, your majesty," he cried saluting.  "We are rid-
ing to the coronation.  We shall be just in time."

"To see Peter of Blentz rob Leopold of a crown," said
the American in a disgusted tone.

"To see Leopold of Lutha come into his own, your
majesty.  Long live the king!" cried the officer.

Barney thought the man either poking fun at him be-
cause he was not the king, or, thinking he was Leopold, tak-
ing a mean advantage of his helplessness to bait him.  Yet
this last suspicion seemed unfair to Butzow, who at Blentz
had given ample evidence that he was a gentleman, and of
far different caliber from Maenck and the others who served
Peter.

If he could but convince the man that he was no king
and thus gain his liberty long enough to reach Prince Lud-
wig's ear, his mission would have been served in so far as
it lay in his power to serve it.  For some minutes Barney
expended his best eloquence and logic upon the cavalry
officer in an effort to convince him that he was not Leopold.

The king had given the American his great ring to safe-
guard for him until it should be less dangerous for Leopold
to wear it, and for fear that at the last moment someone
within the sanatorium might recognize it and bear word to
Peter of the king's whereabouts.  Barney had worn it turned
in upon the third finger of his left hand, and now he slipped
it surreptitiously into his breeches pocket lest Butzow should
see it and by it be convinced that Barney was indeed Leo-
pold.

"Never mind who you are," cried Butzow, thinking to
humor the king's strange obsession.  "You look enough like
Leopold to be his twin, and you must help us save Lutha
from Peter of Blentz."

The American showed in his expression the surprise he
felt at these words from an officer of the prince regent.

"You wonder at my change of heart?" asked Butzow.

"How can I do otherwise?"

"I cannot blame you," said the officer.  "Yet I think that
when you know the truth you will see that I have done
only that which I believed to be the duty of a patriotic
officer and a true gentleman."

They had rejoined the troop by this time, and the entire
company was once more headed toward Lustadt.  Butzow
had commanded one of the troopers to exchange horses
with Barney, bringing the jaded animal into the city slowly,
and now freshly mounted the American was making better
time toward his destination.  His spirits rose, and as they
galloped along the highway, he listened with renewed in-
terest to the story which Lieutenant Butzow narrated in
detail.

It seemed that Butzow had been absent from Lutha for
a number of years as military attache to the Luthanian
legation at a foreign court.  He had known nothing of the
true condition at home until his return, when he saw such
scoundrels as Coblich, Maenck, and Stein high in the
favor of the prince regent.  For some time before the events
that had transpired after he had brought Barney and the
Princess Emma to Blentz he had commenced to have his
doubts as to the true patriotism of Peter of Blentz; and
when he had learned through the unguarded words of
Schonau that there was a real foundation for the rumor
that the regent had plotted the assassination of the king his
suspicions had crystallized into knowledge, and he had
sworn to serve his king before all others--were he sane or
mad.  From this loyalty he could not be shaken.

"And what do you intend doing now?" asked Barney.

"I intend placing you upon the throne of your ancestors,
sire," replied Butzow; "nor will Peter of Blentz dare the
wrath of the people by attempting to interpose any ob-
stacle.  When he sees Leopold of Lutha ride into the capital
of his kingdom at the head of even so small a force as ours
he will know that the end of his own power is at hand, for
he is not such a fool that he does not perfectly realize that
he is the most cordially hated man in all Lutha, and that
only those attend upon him who hope to profit through his
success or who fear his evil nature."

"If Peter is crowned today," asked Barney, "will it pre-
vent Leopold regaining his throne?"

"It is difficult to say," replied Butzow; "but the chances
are that the throne would be lost to him forever.  To regain
it he would have to plunge Lutha into a bitter civil war,
for once Peter is proclaimed king he will have the law
upon his side, and with the resources of the State behind
him--the treasury and the army--he will feel in no mood
to relinquish the scepter without a struggle.  I doubt much
that you will ever sit upon your throne, sire, unless you do
so within the very next hour."

For some time Barney rode in silence.  He saw that only
by a master stroke could the crown be saved for the true
king.  Was it worth it?  The man was happier without a
crown.  Barney had come to believe that no man lived who
could be happy in possession of one.  Then there came be-
fore his mind's eye the delicate, patrician face of Emma
von der Tann.

Would Peter of Blentz be true to his new promises to
the house of Von der Tann?  Barney doubted it.  He recalled
all that it might mean of danger and suffering to the girl
whose kisses he still felt upon his lips as though it had
been but now that hers had placed them there.  He re-
called the limp little body of the boy, Rudolph, and the
Spartan loyalty with which the little fellow had given his
life in the service of the man he had thought king.  The
pitiful figure of the fear-haunted man upon the iron cot at
Tafelberg rose before him and cried for vengeance.

To this man was the woman he loved betrothed!  He
knew that he might never wed the Princess Emma.  Even
were she not promised to another, the iron shackles of con-
vention and age-old customs must forever separate her from
an untitled American.  But if he couldn't have her he still
could serve her!

"For her sake," he muttered.

"Did your majesty speak?" asked Butzow.

"Yes, lieutenant.  We urge greater haste, for if we are to
be crowned today we have no time to lose."

Butzow smiled a relieved smile.  The king had at last
regained his senses!


Within the ancient cathedral at Lustadt a great and gor-
geously attired assemblage had congregated.  All the nobles
of Lutha were gathered there with their wives, their chil-
dren, and their retainers.  There were the newer nobility of
the lowlands--many whose patents dated but since the
regency of Peter--and there were the proud nobility of the
highlands--the old nobility of which Prince Ludwig von
der Tann was the chief.

It was noticeable that though a truce had been made
between Ludwig and Peter, yet the former chancellor of the
kingdom did not stand upon the chancel with the other
dignitaries of the State and court.

Few there were who knew that he had been invited to
occupy a place of honor there, and had replied that he
would take no active part in the making of any king in
Lutha whose veins did not pulse to the flow of the blood
of the house in whose service he had grown gray.

Close packed were the retainers of the old prince so that
their great number was scarcely noticeable, though quite so
was the fact that they kept their cloaks on, presenting a
somber appearance in the midst of all the glitter of gold
and gleam of jewels that surrounded them--a grim, business-
like appearance that cast a chill upon Peter of Blentz as his
eyes scanned the multitude of faces below him.

He would have shown his indignation at this seeming
affront had he dared; but until the crown was safely upon
his head and the royal scepter in his hand Peter had no
mind to do aught that might jeopardize the attainment of
the power he had sought for the past ten years.

The solemn ceremony was all but completed; the Bishop
of Lustadt had received the great golden crown from the
purple cushion upon which it had been borne at the head
of the procession which accompanied Peter up the broad
center aisle of the cathedral.  He had raised it above the
head of the prince regent, and was repeating the solemn
words which precede the placing of the golden circlet upon
the man's brow.  In another moment Peter of Blentz would
be proclaimed the king of Lutha.

By her father's side stood Emma von der Tann.  Upon
her haughty, high-bred face there was no sign of the emo-
tions which ran riot within her fair bosom.  In the act that
she was witnessing she saw the eventual ruin of her father's
house.  That Peter would long want for an excuse to break
and humble his ancient enemy she did not believe; but
this was not the only cause for the sorrow that overwhelmed
her.

Her most poignant grief, like that of her father, was for
the dead king, Leopold; but to the sorrow of the loyal sub-
ject was added the grief of the loving woman, bereft.  Close
to her heart she hugged the memory of the brief hours spent
with the man whom she had been taught since childhood to
look upon as her future husband, but for whom the all-
consuming fires of love had only been fanned to life within
her since that moment, now three weeks gone, that he had
crushed her to his breast to cover her lips with kisses for
the short moment ere he sacrificed his life to save her from a
fate worse than death.

Before her stood the Nemesis of her dead king.  The last
act of the hideous crime against the man she had loved was
nearing its close.  As the crown, poised over the head of Peter
of Blentz, sank slowly downward the girl felt that she could
scarce restrain her desire to shriek aloud a protest against
the wicked act--the crowning of a murderer king of her
beloved Lutha.

A glance at the old man at her side showed her the stern,
commanding features of her sire molded in an expression of
haughty dignity; only the slight movement of the muscles of
the strong jaw revealed the tensity of the hidden emotions
of the stern old warrior.  He was meeting disappointment and
defeat as a Von der Tann should--brave to the end.

The crown had all but touched the head of Peter of
Blentz when a sudden commotion at the back of the cathe-
dral caused the bishop to look up in ill-concealed annoy-
ance.  At the sight that met his eyes his hands halted in
mid-air.

The great audience turned as one toward the doors at
the end of the long central aisle.  There, through the wide-
swung portals, they saw mounted men forcing their way into
the cathedral.  The great horses shouldered aside the foot-
soldiers that attempted to bar their way, and twenty troop-
ers of the Royal Horse thundered to the very foot of the
chancel steps.

At their head rode Lieutenant Butzow and a tall young
man in soiled and tattered khaki, whose gray eyes and full
reddish-brown beard brought an exclamation from Captain
Maenck who commanded the guard about Peter of Blentz.

"Mein Gott--the king!" cried Maenck, and at the words
Peter went white.

In open-mouthed astonishment the spectators saw the
hurrying troopers and heard Butzow's "The king!  The king!
Make way for Leopold, King of Lutha!"

And a girl saw, and as she saw her heart leaped to her
mouth.  Her small hand gripped the sleeve of her father's
coat.  "The king, father," she cried.  "It is the king."

Old Von der Tann, the light of a new hope firing his eyes,
threw aside his cloak and leaped to the chancel steps beside
Butzow and the others who were mounting them.  Behind
him a hundred cloaks dropped from the shoulders of his
fighting men, exposing not silks and satins and fine velvet,
but the coarse tan of khaki, and grim cartridge belts well
filled, and stern revolvers slung to well-worn service belts.

As Butzow and Barney stepped upon the chancel Peter
of Blentz leaped forward.  "What mad treason is this?" he
fairly screamed.

"The days of treason are now past, prince," replied But-
zow meaningly.  "Here is not treason, but Leopold of Lutha
come to claim his crown which he inherited from his father."

"It is a plot," cried Peter, "to place an impostor upon the
throne!  This man is not the king."

For a moment there was silence.  The people had not taken
sides as yet.  They awaited a leader.  Old Von der Tann
scrutinized the American closely.

"How may we know that you are Leopold?" he asked.
"For ten years we have not seen our king."

"The governor of Blentz has already acknowledged his
identity," cried Butzow.  "Maenck was the first to proclaim
the presence of the putative king."

At that someone near the chancel cried: "Long live Leo-
pold, king of Lutha!" and at the words the whole assemblage
raised their voices in a tumultuous: "Long live the king!"

Peter of Blentz turned toward Maenck.  "The guard!" he
cried.  "Arrest those traitors, and restore order in the cathe-
dral.  Let the coronation proceed."

Maenck took a step toward Barney and Butzow, when old
Prince von der Tann interposed his giant frame with grim
resolve.

"Hold!"  He spoke in a low, stern voice that brought the
cowardly Maenck to a sudden halt.

The men of Tann had pressed eagerly forward until they
stood, with bared swords, a solid rank of fighting men in
grim semicircle behind their chief.  There were cries from
different parts of the cathedral of: "Crown Leopold, our
true king!  Down with Peter!  Down with the assassin!"

"Enough of this," cried Peter.  "Clear the cathedral!"

He drew his own sword, and with half a hundred loyal
retainers at his back pressed forward to clear the chancel.
There was a brief fight, from which Barney, much to his
disgust, was barred by the mighty figure of the old prince
and the stalwart sword-arm of Butzow.  He did get one
crack at Maenck, and had the satisfaction of seeing blood
spurt from a fleshwound across the fellow's cheek.

"That for the Princess Emma," he called to the governor of
Blentz, and then men crowded between them and he did
not see the captain again during the battle.

When Peter saw that more than half of the palace guard
were shouting for Leopold, and fighting side by side with
the men of Tann, he realized the futility of further armed
resistance at this time.  Slowly he withdrew, and at last the
fighting ceased and some semblance of order was restored
within the cathedral.

Fearfully, the bishop emerged from hiding, his robes dis-
heveled and his miter askew.  Butzow grasped him none too
reverently by the arm and dragged him before Barney.  The
crown of Lutha dangled in the priest's palsied hands.

"Crown the king!" cried the lieutenant.  "Crown Leopold,
king of Lutha!"

A mad roar of acclaim greeted this demand, and again
from all parts of the cathedral rose the same wild cry.  But
in the lull that followed there were some who demanded
proof of the tattered young man who stood before them and
claimed that he was king.

"Let Prince Ludwig speak!" cried a dozen voices.

"Yes, Prince Ludwig!  Prince Ludwig!" took up the throng.

Prince Ludwig von der Tann turned toward the bearded
young man.  Silence fell upon the crowded cathedral.  Peter
of Blentz stood awaiting the outcome, ready to demand the
crown upon the first indication of wavering belief in the
man he knew was not Leopold.

"How may we know that you are really Leopold?" again
asked Ludwig of Barney.

The American raised his left hand, upon the third finger
of which gleamed the great ruby of the royal ring of the
kings of Lutha.  Even Peter of Blentz started back in surprise
as his eyes fell upon the ring.

Where had the man come upon it?

Prince von der Tann dropped to one knee before Mr.
Bernard Custer of Beatrice, Nebraska, U.S.A., and lifted
that gentleman's hand to his lips, and as the people of Lutha
saw the act they went mad with joy.

Slowly Prince Ludwig rose and addressed the bishop.
"Leopold, the rightful heir to the throne of Lutha, is here.
Let the coronation proceed."

The quiet of the sepulcher fell upon the assemblage as the
holy man raised the crown above the head of the king.  Bar-
ney saw from the corner of his eye the sea of faces up-
turned toward him.  He saw the relief and happiness upon
the stern countenance of the old prince.

He hated to dash all their new found joy by the an-
nouncement that he was not the king.  He could not do that,
for the moment he did Peter would step forward and de-
mand that his own coronation continue.  How was he to
save the throne for Leopold?

Among the faces beneath him he suddenly descried that
of a beautiful young girl whose eyes, filled with the tears of
a great happiness and a greater love, were upturned to his.
To reveal his true identity would lose him this girl forever.
None save Peter knew that he was not the king.  All save
Peter would hail him gladly as Leopold of Lutha.  How
easily he might win a throne and the woman he loved by a
moment of seeming passive compliance.

The temptation was great, and then he recalled the boy,
lying dead for his king in the desolate mountains, and the
pathetic light in the eyes of the sorrowful man at Tafelberg,
and the great trust and confidence in the heart of the
woman who had shown that she loved him.

Slowly Barney Custer raised his palm toward the bishop
in a gesture of restraint.

"There are those who doubt that I am king," he said.  "In
these circumstances there should be no coronation in Lutha
until all doubts are allayed and all may unite in accepting
without question the royal right of the true Leopold to the
crown of his father.  Let the coronation wait, then, until
another day, and all will be well."

"It must take place before noon of the fifth day of Nov-
ember, or not until a year later," said Prince Ludwig.  "In
the meantime the Prince Regent must continue to rule.  For
the sake of Lutha the coronation must take place today,
your majesty."

"What is the date?" asked Barney.

"The third, sire."

"Let the coronation wait until the fifth."

"But your majesty," interposed Von der Tann, "all may
be lost in two days."

"It is the king's command," said Barney quietly.

"But Peter of Blentz will rule for these two days, and in
that time with the army at his command there is no telling
what he may accomplish," insisted the old man.

"Peter of Blentz shall not rule Lutha for two days, or
two minutes," replied Barney.  "We shall rule.  Lieutenant
Butzow, you may place Prince Peter, Coblich, Maenck, and
Stein under arrest.  We charge them with treason against
their king, and conspiring to assassinate their rightful mon-
arch."

Butzow smiled as he turned with his troopers at his back
to execute this most welcome of commissions; but in a mo-
ment he was again at Barney's side.

"They have fled, your majesty," he said.  "Shall I ride to
Blentz after them?"

"Let them go," replied the American, and then, with his
retinue about him the new king of Lutha passed down the
broad aisle of the cathedral of Lustadt and took his way
to the royal palace between ranks of saluting soldiery backed
by cheering thousands.




IX

THE KING'S GUESTS

ONCE WITHIN the palace Barney sought the seclusion of a
small room off the audience chamber.  Here he summoned
Butzow.

"Lieutenant," said the American, "for the sake of a woman,
a dead child and an unhappy king I have become dictator
of Lutha for forty-eight hours; but at noon upon the fifth
this farce must cease.  Then we must place the true Leopold
upon the throne, or a new dictator must replace me.

"In vain I have tried to convince you that I am not the
king, and today in the cathedral so great was the tempta-
tion to take advantage of the odd train of circumstances
that had placed a crown within my reach that I all but
surrendered to it--not for the crown of gold, Butzow, but
for an infinitely more sacred diadem which belongs to him
to whom by right of birth and lineage, belongs the crown
of Lutha.  I do not ask you to understand--it is not neces-
sary--but this you must know and believe: that I am not
Leopold, and that the true Leopold lies in hiding in the
sanatorium at Tafelberg, from which you and I, Butzow,
must fetch him to Lustadt before noon on the fifth."

"But, sire--" commenced Butzow, when Barney raised
his hand.

"Enough of that, Butzow!" he cried almost irritably.  "I
am sick of being 'sired' and 'majestied'--my name is Custer.
Call me that when others are not present.  Believe what you
will, but ride with me in secrecy to Tafelberg tonight, and
together we shall bring back Leopold of Lutha.  Then we
may call Prince Ludwig into our confidence, and none need
ever know of the substitution.

"I doubt if many had a sufficiently close view of me to-
day to realize the trick that I have played upon them, and
if they note a difference they will attribute it to the change
in apparel, for we shall see to it that the king is fittingly
garbed before we exhibit him to his subjects, while here-
after I shall continue in khaki, which becomes me better
than ermine."

Butzow shook his head.

"King or dictator," he said, "it is all the same, and I must
obey whatever commands you see fit to give, and so I will
ride to Tafelberg tonight, though what we shall find there
I cannot imagine, unless there are two Leopolds of Lutha.
But shall we also find another royal ring upon the finger of
this other king?"

Barney smiled.  "You're a typical hard-headed Dutchman,
Butzow," he said.

The lieutenant drew himself up haughtily.  "I am not a
Dutchman, your majesty.  I am a Luthanian."

Barney laughed.  "Whatever else you may be, Butzow,
you're a brick," he said, laying his hand upon the other's
arm.

Butzow looked at him narrowly.

"From your speech," he said, "and the occasional Ameri-
canisms into which you fall I might believe that you were
other than the king but for the ring."

"It is my commission from the king," replied Barney.  "Leo-
pold placed it upon my finger in token of his royal authority
to act in his behalf.  Tonight, then Butzow, you and I shall
ride to Tafelberg.  Have three good horses.  We must lead
one for the king."

Butzow saluted and left the apartment.  For an hour or
two the American was busy with tailors whom he had or-
dered sent to the palace to measure him for the numerous
garments of a royal wardrobe, for he knew the king to be
near enough his own size that he might easily wear clothes
that had been fitted to Barney; and it was part of his plan
to have everything in readiness for the substitution which
was to take place the morning of the coronation.

Then there were foreign dignitaries, and the heads of
numerous domestic and civic delegations to be given audi-
ence.  Old Von der Tann stood close behind Barney prompt-
ing him upon the royal duties that had fallen so suddenly
upon his shoulders, and none thought it strange that he
was unfamiliar with the craft of kingship, for was it not
common knowledge that he had been kept a close prisoner
in Blentz since boyhood, nor been given any coaching for
the duties Peter of Blentz never intended he should perform?

After it was all over Prince Ludwig's grim and leathery
face relaxed into a smile of satisfaction.

"None who witnessed the conduct of your first audience,
sire," he said, "could for a moment doubt your royal line-
age--if ever a man was born to kingship, your majesty,
it be you."

Barney smiled, a bit ruefully, however, for in his mind's
eye he saw a future moment when the proud old Prince von
der Tann would know the truth of the imposture that had
been played upon him, and the young man foresaw that he
would have a rather unpleasant half-hour.

At a little distance from them Barney saw Emma von der
Tann surrounded by a group of officials and palace officers.
Since he had come to Lustadt that day he had had no
word with her, and now he crossed toward her, amused as
the throng parted to form an aisle for him, the men saluting
and the women curtsying low.

He took both of the girl's hands in his, and, drawing one
through his arm, took advantage of the prerogatives of king-
ship to lead her away from the throng of courtiers.

"I thought that I should never be done with all the tire-
some business which seems to devolve upon kings," he said,
laughing.  "All the while that I should have been bending
my royal intellect to matters of state, I was wondering just
how a king might find a way to see the woman he loves
without interruptions from the horde that dogs his foot-
steps."

"You seem to have found a way, Leopold," she whis-
pered, pressing his arm close to her.  "Kings usually do."

"It is not because I am a king that I found a way, Emma,"
he replied.  "It is because I am an American."

She looked up at him with an expression of pleading in
her eyes.

"Why do you persist?" she cried.  "You have come into
your own, and there is no longer aught to fear from Peter
or any other.  To me at least, it is most unkind still to deny
your identity."

"I wonder," said Barney, "if your love could withstand
the knowledge that I am not the king."

"It is the MAN I love, Leopold," the girl replied.

"You think so now," he said, "but wait until the test
comes, and when it does, remember that I have always
done my best to undeceive you.  I know that you are not for
such as I, my princess, and when I have returned your
true king to you all that I shall ask is that you be happy
with him."

"I shall always be happy with my king," she whispered,
and the look that she gave him made Barney Custer curse
the fate that had failed to make him a king by birth.

An hour later darkness had fallen upon the little city of
Lustadt, and from a small gateway in the rear of the palace
grounds two horsemen rode out into the ill-paved street
and turned their mounts' heads toward the north.  At the
side of one trotted a led horse.

As they passed beneath the glare of an arc-light before a
cafe at the side of the public square, a diner sitting at a
table upon the walk spied the tall figure and the bearded
face of him who rode a few feet in advance of his com-
panion.  Leaping to his feet the man waved his napkin above
his head.

"Long live the king!" he cried.  "God save Leopold of
Lutha!"

And amid the din of cheering that followed, Barney
Custer of Beatrice and Lieutenant Butzow of the Royal
Horse rode out into the night upon the road to Tafelberg.


When Peter of Blentz had escaped from the cathedral
he had hastily mounted with a handful of his followers and
hurried out of Lustadt along the road toward his formidable
fortress at Blentz.  Half way upon the journey he had met a
dusty and travel-stained horseman hastening toward the
capital city that Peter and his lieutenants had just left.

At sight of the prince regent the fellow reined in and
saluted.

"May I have a word in private with your highness?" he
asked.  "I have news of the greatest importance for your
ears alone."

Peter drew to one side with the man.

"Well," he asked, "and what news have you for Peter of
Blentz?"

The man leaned from his horse close to Peter's ear.

"The king is in Tafelberg, your highness," he said.

"The king is dead," snapped Peter.  "There is an impostor
in the palace at Lustadt.  But the real Leopold of Lutha
was slain by Yellow Franz's band of brigands weeks ago."

"I heard the man at Tafelberg tell another that he was
the king," insisted the fellow.  "Through the keyhole of his
room I saw him take a great ring from his finger--a ring
with a mighty ruby set in its center--and give it to the other.
Both were bearded men with gray eyes--either might have
passed for the king by the description upon the placards
that have covered Lutha for the past month.  At first he
denied his identity, but when the other had convinced him
that he sought only the king's welfare he at last admitted
that he was Leopold."

"Where is he now?" cried Peter.

"He is still in the sanatorium at Tafelberg.  In room
twenty-seven.  The other promised to return for him and take
him to Lustadt, but when I left Tafelberg he had not yet
done so, and if you hasten you may reach there before they
take him away, and if there be any reward for my loyalty
to you, prince, my name is Ferrath."

"Ride with us and if you have told the truth, fellow,
there shall be a reward and if not--then there shall be
deserts," and Peter of Blentz wheeled his horse and with
his company galloped on toward Tafelberg.

As he rode he talked with his lieutenants Coblich, Maenck,
and Stein, and among them it was decided that it would be
best that Peter stop at Blentz for the night while the others
rode on to Tafelberg.

"Do not bring Leopold to Blentz," directed Peter, "for if
it be he who lies at Tafelberg and they find him gone it
will be toward Blentz that they will first look.  Take him--"

The Regent leaned from his saddle so that his mouth
was close to the ear of Coblich, that none of the troopers
might hear.

Coblich nodded his head.

"And, Coblich, the fewer that ride to Tafelberg tonight
the surer the success of the mission.  Take Maenck, Stein
and one other with you.  I shall keep this man with me, for
it may prove but a plot to lure me to Tafelberg."

Peter scowled at the now frightened hospital attendant.

"Tomorrow I shall be riding through the lowlands, Cob-
lich, and so you may not find means to communicate with
me, but before noon of the fifth have word at your town
house in Lustadt for me of the success of your venture."

They had reached the point now where the road to Tafel-
berg branches from that to Blentz, and the four who were
to fetch the king wheeled their horses into the left-hand fork
and cantered off upon their mission.

The direct road between Lustadt and Tafelberg is but
little more than half the distance of that which Coblich and
his companions had to traverse because of the wide detour
they had made by riding almost to Blentz first, and so it
was that when they cantered into the little mountain town
near midnight Barney Custer and Lieutenant Butzow were
but a mile or two behind them.

Had the latter had even the faintest of suspicions that
the identity of the hiding place of the king might come to
the knowledge of Peter of Blentz they could have reached
Tafelberg ahead of Coblich and his party, but all unsus-
pecting they rode slowly to conserve the energy of their
mounts for the return trip.

In silence the two men approached the grounds sur-
rounding the sanatorium.  In the soft dirt of the road the
hoofs of their mounts made no sound, and the shadows of
the trees that border the front of the enclosure hid them
from the view of the trooper who held four riderless horses
in a little patch of moonlight that broke through the opening
in the trees at the main gate of the institution.

Barney was the first to see the animals and the man.

"S-s-st," he hissed, reining in his horse.

Butzow drew alongside the American.

"What can it mean?" asked Barney.  "That fellow is a
trooper, but I cannot make out his uniform."

"Wait here," said Butzow, and slipping from his horse he
crept closer to the man, hugging the dense shadows close
to the trees.

Barney reined in nearer the low wall.  From his saddle he
could see the grounds beyond through the branches of a
tree.  As he looked his attention was suddenly riveted upon a
sight that sent his heart into his throat.

Three men were dragging a struggling, half-naked figure
down the gravel walk from the sanatorium toward the gate.
One kept a hand clapped across the mouth of the prisoner,
who struck and fought his assailants with all the frenzy of
despair.

Barney leaped from his saddle and ran headlong after
Butzow.  The lieutenant had reached the gate but an instant
ahead of him when the trooper, turning suddenly at some
slight sound of the officer's foot upon the ground, detected
the man creeping upon him.  In an instant the fellow had
whipped out a revolver, and raising it fired point-blank at
Butzow's chest; but in the same instant a figure shot out of
the shadows beside him, and with the report of the revolver
a heavy fist caught the trooper on the side of the chin,
crumpling him to the ground as if he were dead.

The blow had been in time to deflect the muzzle of the
firearm, and the bullet whistled harmlessly past the lieu-
tenant.

"Your majesty!" exclaimed Butzow excitedly.  "Go back.
He might have killed you."

Barney leaped to the other's side and grasping him by the
shoulders wheeled him about so that he faced the gate.

"There, Butzow," he cried, "there is your king, and from
the looks of it he never needed a loyal subject more than he
does this moment.  Come!"  Without waiting to see if the other
followed him, Barney Custer leaped through the gate full
in the faces of the astonished trio that was dragging Leopold
of Lutha from his sanctuary.

At sight of the American the king gave a muffled cry
of relief, and then Barney was upon those who held him.  A
stinging uppercut lifted Coblich clear of the ground to drop
him, dazed and bewildered, at the foot of the monarch he
had outraged.  Maenck drew a revolver only to have it struck
from his hand by the sword of Butzow, who had followed
closely upon the American's heels.

Barney, seizing the king by the arm, started on a run for
the gateway.  In his wake came Butzow with a drawn sword
beating back Stein, who was armed with a cavalry saber,
and Maenck who had now drawn his own sword.

The American saw that the two were pressing Butzow
much too closely for safety and that Coblich had now re-
covered from the effects of the blow and was in pursuit,
drawing his saber as he ran.  Barney thrust the king behind
him and turned to face the enemy, at Butzow's side.

The three men rushed upon the two who stood between
them and their prey.  The moonlight was now full in the
faces of Butzow and the American.  For the first time Maenck
and the others saw who it was that had interrupted them.

"The impostor!" cried the governor of Blentz.  "The false
king!"

Imbued with temporary courage by the knowledge that
his side had the advantage of superior numbers he launched
himself full upon the American.  To his surprise he met a
sword-arm that none might have expected in an American,
for Barney Custer had been a pupil of the redoubtable
Colonel Monstery, who was, as Barney was wont to say,
"one of the thanwhomest of fencing masters."

Quickly Maenck fell back to give place to Stein, but not
before the American's point had found him twice to leave
him streaming blood from two deep flesh wounds.

Neither of those who fought in the service of the king
saw the trembling, weak-kneed figure, which had stood be-
hind them, turn and scurry through the gateway, leaving
the men who battled for him to their fate.

The trooper whom Barney had felled had regained con-
sciousness and as he came to his feet rubbing his swollen
jaw he saw a disheveled, half-dressed figure running toward
him from the sanatorium grounds.  The fellow was no fool,
and knowing the purpose of the expedition as he did he
was quick to jump to the conclusion that this fleeing personi-
fication of abject terror was Leopold of Lutha; and so it
was that as the king emerged from the gateway in search
of freedom he ran straight into the widespread arms of the
trooper.

Maenck and Coblich had seen the king's break for liberty,
and the latter maneuvered to get himself between Butzow
and the open gate that he might follow after the fleeing
monarch.

At the same instant Maenck, seeing that Stein was being
worsted by the American, rushed in upon the latter, and
thus relieved, the rat-faced doctor was enabled to swing a
heavy cut at Barney which struck him a glancing blow upon
the head, sending him stunned and bleeding to the sward.

Coblich and the governor of Blentz hastened toward the
gate, pausing for an instant to overwhelm Butzow.  In the
fierce scrimmage that followed the lieutenant was over-
thrown, though not before his sword had passed through
the heart of the rat-faced one.  Deserting their fallen com-
rade the two dashed through the gate, where to their im-
mense relief they found Leopold safe in the hands of the
trooper.

An instant later the precious trio, with Leopold upon the
horse of the late Dr. Stein, were galloping swiftly into the
darkness of the wood that lies at the outskirts of Tafelberg.

When Barney regained consciousness he found himself
upon a cot within the sanatorium.  Close beside him lay
Butzow, and above them stood an interne and several
nurses.  No sooner had the American regained his scattered
wits than he leaped to the floor.  The interne and the nurses
tried to force him back upon the cot, thinking that he was in
the throes of a delirium, and it required his best efforts to
convince them that he was quite rational.

During the melee Butzow regained consciousness; his
wound being as superficial as that of the American, the two
men were soon donning their clothing, and, half-dressed,
rushing toward the outer gate.

The interne had told them that when he had reached the
scene of the conflict in company with the gardener he had
found them and another lying upon the sward.

Their companion, he said, was quite dead.

"That must have been Stein," said Butzow.  "And the
others had escaped with the king!"

"The king?" cried the interne.

"Yes, the king, man--Leopold of Lutha.  Did you not
know that he who has lain here for three weeks was the
king?" replied Butzow.

The interne accompanied them to the gate and beyond,
but everywhere was silence.  The king was gone.




X

ON THE BATTLEFIELD

ALL THAT night and the following day Barney Custer and
his aide rode in search of the missing king.

They came to Blentz, and there Butzow rode boldly into
the great court, admitted by virtue of the fact that the
guard upon the gate knew him only as an officer of the
royal guard whom they believed still loyal to Peter of Blentz.

The lieutenant learned that the king was not there, nor
had he been since his escape.  He also learned that Peter
was abroad in the lowland recruiting followers to aid him
forcibly to regain the crown of Lutha.

The lieutenant did not wait to hear more, but, hurrying
from the castle, rode to Barney where the latter had re-
mained in hiding in the wood below the moat--the same
wood through which he had stumbled a few weeks previ-
ously after his escape from the stagnant waters of the moat.

"The king is not here," said Butzow to him, as soon as the
former reached his side.  "Peter is recruiting an army to aid
him in seizing the palace at Lustadt, and king or no king,
we must ride for the capital in time to check that move.
Thank God," he added, "that we shall have a king to place
upon the throne of Lutha at noon tomorrow in spite of all
that Peter can do."

"What do you mean?" asked Barney.  "Have you any
clue to the whereabouts of Leopold?"

"I saw the man at Tafelberg whom you say is king,"
replied Butzow.  "I saw him tremble and whimper in the face
of danger.  I saw him run when he might have seized some-
thing, even a stone, and fought at the sides of the men who
were come to rescue him.  And I saw you there also.

"The truth and the falsity of this whole strange business
is beyond me, but this I know: if you are not the king today
I pray God that the other may not find his way to Lustadt
before noon tomorrow, for by then a brave man will sit
upon the throne of Lutha, your majesty."

Barney laid his hand upon the shoulder of the other.

"It cannot be, my friend," he said.  "There is more than a
throne at stake for me, but to win them both I could not
do the thing you suggest.  If Leopold of Lutha lives he
must be crowned tomorrow."

"And if he does not live?" asked Butzow.

Barney Custer shrugged his shoulders.

It was dusk when the two entered the palace grounds in
Lustadt.  The sight of Barney threw the servants and func-
tionaries of the royal household into wild excitement and
confusion.  Men ran hither and thither bearing the glad tid-
ings that the king had returned.

Old von der Tann was announced within ten minutes after
Barney reached his apartments.  He urged upon the Ameri-
can the necessity for greater caution in the future.

"Your majesty's life is never safe while Peter of Blentz is
abroad in Lutha," cried he.

"It was to save your king from Peter that we rode from
Lustadt last night," replied Barney, but the old prince did
not catch the double meaning of the words.

While they talked a young officer of cavalry begged an
audience.  He had important news for the king, he said.
From him Barney learned that Peter of Blentz had succeeded
in recruiting a fair-sized army in the lowlands.  Two regi-
ments of government infantry and a squadron of cavalry
had united forces with him, for there were those who still
accepted him as regent, believing his contention that the
true king was dead, and that he whose coronation was to
be attempted was but the puppet of old Von der Tann.

The morning of November 5 broke clear and cold.  The
old town of Lustadt was awakened with a start at daybreak
by the booming of cannon.  Mounted messengers galloped
hither and thither through the steep, winding streets.  Troops,
foot and horse, moved at the double from the barracks
along the King's Road to the fortifications which guard the
entrance to the city at the foot of Margaretha Street.

Upon the heights above the town Barney Custer and the
old Prince von der Tann stood surrounded by officers and
aides watching the advance of a skirmish line up the slopes
toward Lustadt.  Behind, the thin line columns of troops
were marching under cover of two batteries of field artil-
lery that Peter of Blentz had placed upon a wooden knoll
to the southeast of the city.

The guns upon the single fort that, overlooking the broad
valley, guarded the entire southern exposure of the city
were answering the fire of Prince Peter's artillery, while
several machine guns had been placed to sweep the slope
up which the skirmish line was advancing.

The trees that masked the enemy's pieces extended up-
ward along the ridge and the eastern edge of the city.  Bar-
ney saw that a force of men might easily reach a command-
ing position from that direction and enter Lustadt almost in
rear of the fortifications.  Below him a squadron of the Royal
Horse were just emerging from their stables, taking their
way toward the plain to join in a concerted movement
against the troops that were advancing toward the fort.

He turned to an aide de camp standing just behind him.

"Intercept that squadron and direct the major to move
due east along the King's Road to the grove," he commanded.
"We will join him there."

And as the officer spurred down the steep and narrow
street the American, followed by Von der Tann and his
staff, wheeled and galloped eastward.

Ten minutes later the party entered the wood at the edge
of town, where the squadron soon joined them.  Von der
Tann was mystified at the purpose of this change in the
position of the general staff, since from the wood they could
see nothing of the battle waging upon the slope.  During his
brief intercourse with the man he thought king he had quite
forgotten that there had been any question as to the young
man's sanity, for he had given no indication of possessing
aught but a well-balanced mind.  Now, however, he com-
menced to have misgivings, if not of his sanity, then as to
his judgment at least.

"I fear, your majesty," he ventured, "that we are putting
ourselves too much out of touch with the main body of the
army.  We can neither see nor accomplish anything from
this position."

"We were too far away to accomplish much upon the top
of that mountain," replied Barney, "but we're going to
commence doing things now.  You will please to ride back
along the King's Road and take direct command of the
troops mobilized near the fort.

"Direct the artillery to redouble their fire upon the enemy's
battery for five minutes, and then to cease firing into the
wood entirely.  At the same instant you may order a cautious
advance against the troops advancing up the slope.

"When you see us emerge upon the west side of the
grove where the enemy's guns are now, you may order a
charge, and we will take them simultaneously upon their
right flank with a cavalry charge."

"But, your majesty," exclaimed Von der Tann dubiously,
"where will you be in the mean time?"

"We shall be with the major's squadron, and when you
see us emerging from the grove, you will know that we have
taken Peter's guns and that everything is over except the
shouting."

"You are not going to accompany the charge!" cried the
old prince.

"We are going to lead it," and the pseudo-king of Lutha
wheeled his mount as though to indicate that the time for
talking was past.

With a signal to the major commanding the squadron of
Royal Horse, he moved eastward into the wood.  Prince Lud-
wig hesitated a moment as though to question further the
wisdom of the move, but finally with a shake of his head he
trotted off in the direction of the fort.

Five minutes later the enemy were delighted to note that
the fire upon their concealed battery had suddenly ceased.

Then Peter saw a force of foot-soldiers deploy from the
city and advance slowly in line of skirmishers down the
slope to meet his own firing line.

Immediately he did what Barney had expected that he
would--turned the fire of his artillery toward the south-
west, directly away from the point from which the Ameri-
can and the crack squadron were advancing.

So it came that the cavalrymen crept through the woods
upon the rear of the guns, unseen; the noise of their advance
was drowned by the detonation of the cannon.

The first that the artillerymen knew of the enemy in their
rear was a shout of warning from one of the powder-men
at a caisson, who had caught a glimpse of the grim line ad-
vancing through the trees at his rear.

Instantly an effort was made to wheel several of the pieces
about and train them upon the advancing horsemen; but
even had there been time, a shout that rose from several of
Peter's artillerymen as the Royal Horse broke into full view
would doubtless have prevented the maneuver, for at sight
of the tall, bearded, young man who galloped in front of
the now charging cavalrymen there rose a shout of "The
king!  The king!"

With the force of an avalanche the Royal Horse rode
through those two batteries of field artillery; and in the
thick of the fight that followed rode the American, a smile
upon his face, for in his ears rang the wild shouts of his
troopers: "For the king!  For the king!"

In the moment that the enemy made their first determined
stand a bullet brought down the great bay upon which
Barney rode.  A dozen of Peter's men rushed forward to
seize the man stumbling to his feet.  As many more of the
Royal Horse closed around him, and there, for five minutes,
was waged as fierce a battle for possession of a king as was
ever fought.

But already many of the artillerymen had deserted the
guns that had not yet been attacked, for the magic name of
king had turned their blood to water.  Fifty or more raised
a white flag and surrendered without striking a blow, and
when, at last, Barney and his little bodyguard fought their
way through those who surrounded them they found the
balance of the field already won.

Upon the slope below the city the loyal troops were ad-
vancing upon the enemy.  Old Prince Ludwig paced back
and forth behind them, apparently oblivious to the rain of
bullets about him.  Every moment he turned his eyes toward
the wooded ridge from which there now belched an almost
continuous fusillade of shells upon the advancing royalists.

Quite suddenly the cannonading ceased and the old man
halted in his tracks, his gaze riveted upon the wood.  For
several minutes he saw no sign of what was transpiring be-
hind that screen of sere and yellow autumn leaves, and then
a man came running out, and after him another and an-
other.

The prince raised his field glasses to his eyes.  He almost
cried aloud in his relief--the uniforms of the fugitives were
those of artillerymen, and only cavalry had accompanied the
king.  A moment later there appeared in the center of his
lenses a tall figure with a full beard.  He rode, swinging his
saber above his head, and behind him at full gallop came a
squadron of the Royal Horse.

Old von der Tann could restrain himself no longer.

"The king!  The king!" he cried to those about him, point-
ing in the direction of the wood.

The officers gathered there and the soldiery before him
heard and took up the cry, and then from the old man's
lips came the command, "Charge!" and a thousand men tore
down the slopes of Lustadt upon the forces of Peter of
Blentz, while from the east the king charged their right flank
at the head of the Royal Horse.

Peter of Blentz saw that the day was lost, for the troops
upon the right were crumpling before the false king while
he and his cavalrymen were yet a half mile distant.  Before
the retreat could become a rout the prince regent ordered
his forces to fall back slowly upon a suburb that lies in the
valley below the city.

Once safely there he raised a white flag, asking a confer-
ence with Prince Ludwig.

"Your majesty," said the old man, "what answer shall we
send the traitor who even now ignores the presence of his
king?"

"Treat with him," replied the American.  "He may be hon-
est enough in his belief that I am an impostor."

Von der Tann shrugged his shoulders, but did as Barney
bid, and for half an hour the young man waited with Butzow
while Von der Tann and Peter met halfway between the
forces for their conference.

A dozen members of the most powerful of the older no-
bility accompanied Ludwig.  When they returned their faces
were a picture of puzzled bewilderment.  With them were
several officers, soldiers and civilians from Peter's contingency.

"What said he?" asked Barney.

"He said, your majesty," replied Von der Tann, "that he
is confident you are not the king, and that these men he
has sent with me knew the king well at Blentz.  As proof
that you are not the king he has offered the evidence of
your own denials--made not only to his officers and soldiers,
but to the man who is now your loyal lieutenant, Butzow, and
to the Princess Emma von der Tann, my daughter.

"He insists that he is fighting for the welfare of Lutha,
while we are traitors, attempting to seat an impostor upon
the throne of the dead Leopold.  I will admit that we are at
a loss, your majesty, to know where lies the truth and where
the falsity in this matter.

"We seek only to serve our country and our king but
there are those among us who, to be entirely frank, are not
yet convinced that you are Leopold.  The result of the con-
ference may not, then, meet with the hearty approval of
your majesty."

"What was the result?" asked Barney.

"It was decided that all hostilities cease, and that Prince
Peter be given an opportunity to establish the validity of
his claim that your majesty is an impostor.  If he is able to
do so to the entire satisfaction of a majority of the old no-
bility, we have agreed to support him in a return to his
regency."

For a moment there was deep silence.  Many of the nobles
stood with averted faces and eyes upon the ground.

The American, a half-smile upon his face, turned toward
the men of Peter who had come to denounce him.  He knew
what their verdict would be.  He knew that if he were to
save the throne for Leopold he must hold it at any cost until
Leopold should be found.

Troopers were scouring the country about Lustadt as far
as Blentz in search of Maenck and Coblich.  Could they lo-
cate these two and arrest them "with all found in their
company," as his order read, he felt sure that he would be
able to deliver the missing king to his subjects in time for
the coronation at noon.

Barney looked straight into the eyes of old Von der Tann.

"You have given us the opinion of others, Prince Lud-
wig," he said.  "Now you may tell us your own views of
the matter."

"I shall have to abide by the decision of the majority,"
replied the old man.  "But I have seen your majesty under
fire, and if you are not the king, for Lutha's sake you ought
to be."

"He is not Leopold," said one of the officers who had ac-
companied the prince from Peter's camp.  "I was governor
of Blentz for three years and as familiar with the king's
face as with that of my own brother."

"No," cried several of the others, "this man is not the
king."

Several of the nobles drew away from Barney.  Others
looked at him questioningly.

Butzow stepped close to his side, and it was noticeable
that the troopers, and even the officers, of the Royal Horse
which Barney had led in the charge upon the two batteries
in the wood, pressed a little closer to the American.  This
fact did not escape Butzow's notice.

"If you are content to take the word of the servants of a
traitor and a would-be regicide," he cried, "I am not.  There
has been no proof advanced that this man is not the king.
In so far as I am concerned he is the king, nor ever do I
expect to serve another more worthy of the title.

"If Peter of Blentz has real proof--not the testimony of
his own faction--that Leopold of Lutha is dead, let him
bring it forward before noon today, for at noon we shall
crown a king in the cathedral at Lustadt, and I for one
pray to God that it may be he who has led us in battle
today."

A shout of applause rose from the Royal Horse, and from
the foot-soldiers who had seen the king charge across the
plain, scattering the enemy before him.

Barney, appreciating the advantage in the sudden turn
affairs had taken following Butzow's words, swung to his
saddle.

"Until Peter of Blentz brings to Lustadt one with a better
claim to the throne," he said, "we shall continue to rule
Lutha, nor shall other than Leopold be crowned her king.
We approve of the amnesty you have granted, Prince Lud-
wig, and Peter of Blentz is free to enter Lustadt, as he will,
so long as he does not plot against the true king.

"Major," he added, turning to the commander of the
squadron at his back, "we are returning to the palace.  Your
squadron will escort us, remaining on guard there about the
grounds.  Prince Ludwig, you will see that machine guns are
placed about the palace and commanding the approaches to
the cathedral."

With a nod to the cavalry major he wheeled his horse
and trotted up the slope toward Lustadt.

With a grim smile Prince Ludwig von der Tann mounted
his horse and rode toward the fort.  At his side were several
of the nobles of Lutha.  They looked at him in astonishment.

"You are doing his bidding, although you do not know
that he is the true king?" asked one of them.

"Were he an impostor," replied the old man, "he would
have insisted by word of mouth that he is king.  But not
once has he said that he is Leopold.  Instead, he has proved
his kingship by his acts."




XI

A TIMELY INTERVENTION

NINE O'CLOCK found Barney Custer pacing up and down his
apartments in the palace.  No clue as to the whereabouts of
Coblich, Maenck or the king had been discovered.  One by
one his troopers had returned to Butzow empty-handed,
and as much at a loss as to the hiding-place of their quarry
as when they had set out upon their search.

Peter of Blentz and his retainers had entered the city and
already had commenced to gather at the cathedral.

Peter, at the residence of Coblich, had succeeded in
gathering about him many of the older nobility whom he
pledged to support him in case he could prove to them that
the man who occupied the royal palace was not Leopold
of Lutha.

They agreed to support him in his regency if he produced
proof that the true Leopold was dead, and Peter of Blentz
waited with growing anxiety the coming of Coblich with
word that he had the king in custody.  Peter was staking all
on a single daring move which he had decided to make in
his game of intrigue.

As Barney paced within the palace, waiting for word
that Leopold had been found, Peter of Blentz was filled with
equal apprehension as he, too, waited for the same tidings.
At last he heard the pound of hoofs upon the pavement
without and a moment later Coblich, his clothing streaked
with dirt, blood caked upon his face from a wound across
the forehead, rushed in to the presence of the prince regent.

Peter drew him hurriedly into a small study on the first
floor.

"Well?" he whispered, as the two faced each other.

"We have him," replied Coblich.  But we had the devil's
own time getting him.  Stein was killed and Maenck and I
both wounded, and all morning we have spent the time
hiding from troopers who seemed to be searching for us.
Only fifteen minutes since did we reach the hiding-place
that you instructed us to use.  But we have him, your high-
ness, and he is in such a state of cowardly terror that he is
ready to agree to anything, if you will but spare his life
and set him free across the border."

"It is too late for that now, Coblich," replied Peter.
"There is but one way that Leopold of Lutha can serve
me now, and that is--dead.  Were his corpse to be carried
into the cathedral of Lustadt before noon today, and were
those who fetched it to swear that the king was killed by
the impostor after being dragged from the hospital at Tafel-
berg where you and Maenck had located him, and from
which you were attempting to rescue him, I believe that the
people would tear our enemies to pieces.  What say you,
Coblich?"

The other stared at Peter of Blentz for several seconds
while the atrocity of his chief's plan filtered through his
brain.

"My God!" he exclaimed at last.  "You mean that you
wish me to murder Leopold with my own hands?"

"You put it too crudely, my dear Coblich," replied the
other.

"I cannot do it," muttered Coblich.  "I have never killed a
man in my life.  I am getting old.  No, I could never do it.
I should not sleep nights."

"If it is not done, Coblich, and Leopold comes into his
own," said Peter slowly, "you will be caught and hanged
higher than Haman.  And if you do not do it, and the im-
poster is crowned today, then you will be either hanged
officially or knifed unofficially, and without any choice in
the matter whatsoever.  Nothing, Coblich, but the dead body
of the true Leopold can save your neck.  You have your
choice, therefore, of letting him live to prove your treason,
or letting him die and becoming chancellor of Lutha."

Slowly Coblich turned toward the door.  "You are right,"
he said, "but may God have mercy on my soul.  I never
thought that I should have to do it with my own hands."

So saying he left the room and a moment later Peter of
Blentz smiled as he heard the pounding of a horse's hoofs
upon the pavement without.

Then the Regent entered the room he had recently quitted
and spoke to the nobles of Lutha who were gathered there.

"Coblich has found the body of the murdered king," he
said.  "I have directed him to bring it to the cathedral.  He
came upon the impostor and his confederate, Lieutenant
Butzow, as they were bearing the corpse from the hospital
at Tafelberg where the king has lain unknown since the
rumor was spread by Von der Tann that he had been killed
by bandits.

"He was not killed until last evening, my lords, and you
shall see today the fresh wounds upon him.  When the time
comes that we can present this grisly evidence of the guilt
of the impostor and those who uphold him, I shall expect
you all to stand at my side, as you have promised."

With one accord the noblemen pledged anew their alle-
giance to Peter of Blentz if he could produce one-quarter of
the evidence he claimed to possess.

"All that we wish to know positively is," said one, "that
the man who bears the title of king today is really Leopold
of Lutha, or that he is not.  If not then he stands convicted
of treason, and we shall know how to conduct ourselves."

Together the party rode to the cathedral, the majority of
the older nobility now openly espousing the cause of the
Regent.


At the palace Barney was about distracted.  Butzow was
urging him to take the crown whether he was Leopold or
not, for the young lieutenant saw no hope for Lutha, if
either the scoundrelly Regent or the cowardly man whom
Barney had assured him was the true king should come into
power.

It was eleven o'clock.  In another hour Barney knew that
he must have found some new solution of his dilemma, for
there seemed little probability that the king would be lo-
cated in the brief interval that remained before the corona-
tion.  He wondered what they did to people who stole thrones.
For a time he figured his chances of reaching the border
ahead of the enraged populace.  All had depended upon the
finding of the king, and he had been so sure that it could
be accomplished in time, for Coblich and Maenck had had
but a few hours in which to conceal the monarch before
the search was well under way.

Armed with the king's warrants, his troopers had ridden
through the country, searching houses, and questioning all
whom they met.  Patrols had guarded every road that the
fugitives might take either to Lustadt, Blentz, or the border;
but no king had been found and no trace of his abductors.

Prince von der Tann, Barney was convinced, was on the
point of deserting him, and going over to the other side.  It
was true that the old man had carried out his instructions
relative to the placing of the machine guns; but they might
be used as well against him, where they stood, as for him.

From his window he could see the broad avenue which
passes before the royal palace of Lutha.  It was crowded
with throngs moving toward the cathedral.  Presently there
came a knock upon the closed door of his chamber.

At his "Enter" a functionary announced: "His Royal High-
ness Ludwig, Prince von der Tann!"

The old man was much perturbed at the rumors he had
heard relative to the assassination of the true Leopold.
Soldier-like, he blurted out his suspicions and his ultimatum.

"None but the royal blood of Rubinroth may reign in
Lutha while there be a Rubinroth left to reign and old Von
der Tann lives," he cried in conclusion.

At the name "Rubinroth" Barney started.  It was his
mother's name.  Suddenly the truth flashed upon him.  He
understood now the reticence of both his father and mother
relative to her early life.

"Prince Ludwig," said the young man earnestly, "I have
only the good of Lutha in my heart.  For three weeks I have
labored and risked death a hundred times to place the
legitimate heir to the crown of Lutha upon his throne.  I--"

He hesitated, not knowing just how to commence the
confession he was determined to make, though he was posi-
tive that it would place Peter of Blentz upon the throne,
since the old prince had promised to support the Regent
could it be proved that Barney was an impostor.

"I," he started again, and then there came an interruption
at the door.

"A messenger, your majesty," announced the doorman,
"who says that he must have audience at once upon a mat-
ter of life and death to the king."

"We will see him in the ante-chamber," replied Barney,
moving toward the door.  "Await us here, Prince Ludwig."

A moment later he re-entered the apartment.  There was
an expression of renewed hope upon his face.

"As we were about to remark, my dear prince," he said,
"I swear that the royal blood of the Rubinroths flows in my
veins, and as God is my judge, none other than the true
Leopold of Lutha shall be crowned today.  And now we
must prepare for the coronation.  If there be trouble in the
cathedral, Prince Ludwig, we look to your sword in pro-
tection of the king."

"When I am with you, sire," said Von der Tann, "I know
that you are king.  When I saw how you led the troops in
battle, I prayed that there could be no mistake.  God give
that I am right.  But God help you if you are playing with
old Ludwig von der Tann."

When the old man had left the apartment Barney sum-
moned an aide and sent for Butzow.  Then he hurried to the
bath that adjoined the apartment, and when the lieutenant
of horse was announced Barney called through a soapy
lather for his confederate to enter.

"What are you doing, sire?" cried Butzow in amazement.

"Cut out the 'sire,' old man," shouted Barney Custer of
Beatrice.  "this is the fifth of November and I am shaving
off this alfalfa.  The king is found!"

"What?" cried Butzow, and upon his face there was little
to indicate the rejoicing that a loyal subject of Leopold of
Lutha should have felt at that announcement.

"There is a man in the next room," went on Barney, "who
can lead us to the spot where Coblich and Maenck guard
the king.  Get him in here."

Butzow hastened to comply with the American's instruc-
tions, and a moment later returned to the apartment with
the old shopkeeper of Tafelberg.

As Barney shaved he issued directions to the two.  Within
the room to the east, he said, there were the king's corona-
tion robes, and in a smaller dressingroom beyond they would
find a long gray cloak.

They were to wrap all these in a bundle which the old
shopkeeper was to carry.

"And, Butzow," added Barney, "look to my revolvers and
your own, and lay my sword out as well.  The chances are
that we shall have to use them before we are ten minutes
older."

In an incredibly short space of time the young man
emerged from the bath, his luxuriant beard gone forever,
he hoped.  Butzow looked at him with a smile.

"I must say that the beard did not add greatly to your
majesty's good looks," he said.

"Never mind the bouquets, old man," cried Barney, cram-
ming his arms into the sleeves of his khaki jacket and buck-
ling sword and revolver about him, as he hurried toward a
small door that opened upon the opposite side of the apart-
ment to that through which his visitors had been conducted.

Together the three hastened through a narrow, little-used
corridor and down a flight of well-worn stone steps to a door
that let upon the rear court of the palace.

There were grooms and servants there, and soldiers too,
who saluted Butzow, according the old shopkeeper and
the smooth-faced young stranger only cursory glances.  It
was evident that without his beard it was not likely that
Barney would be again mistaken for the king.

At the stables Butzow requisitioned three horses, and soon
the trio was galloping through a little-frequented street
toward the northern, hilly environs of Lustadt.  They rode
in silence until they came to an old stone building, whose
boarded windows and general appearance of dilapidation
proclaimed its long tenantless condition.  Rank weeds, now
rustling dry and yellow in the November wind, choked
what once might have been a luxuriant garden.  A stone
wall, which had at one time entirely surrounded the grounds,
had been almost completely removed from the front to serve
as foundation stone for a smaller edifice farther down the
mountainside.

The horsemen avoided this break in the wall, coming up
instead upon the rear side where their approach was wholly
screened from the building by the wall upon that exposure.

Close in they dismounted, and leaving the animals in
charge of the shopkeeper of Tafelberg, Barney and Butzow
hastened toward a small postern-gate which swung, groan-
ing, upon a single rusted hinge.  Each felt that there was no
time for caution or stratagem.  Instead all depended upon
the very boldness and rashness of their attack, and so as
they came through into the courtyard the two dashed
headlong for the building.

Chance accomplished for them what no amount of careful
execution might have done, and they came within the ruin
unnoticed by the four who occupied the old, darkened
library.

Possibly the fact that one of the men had himself just
entered and was excitedly talking to the others may have
drowned the noisy approach of the two.  However that may
be, it is a fact that Barney and the cavalry officer came to
the very door of the library unheard.

There they halted, listening.  Coblich was speaking.

"The Regent commands it, Maenck," he was saying.  "It is
the only thing that can save our necks.  He said that you had
better be the one to do it, since it was your carelessness that
permitted the fellow to escape from Blentz."

Huddled in a far corner of the room was an abject figure
trembling in terror.  At the words of Coblich it staggered to
its feet.  It was the king.

"Have pity--have pity!" he cried.  "Do not kill me, and I
will go away where none will ever know that I live.  You can
tell Peter that I am dead.  Tell him anything, only spare my
life.  Oh, why did I ever listen to the cursed fool who
tempted me to think of regaining the crown that has brought
me only misery and suffering--the crown that has now
placed the sentence of death upon me."

"Why not let him go?" suggested the trooper, who up to
this time had not spoken.  "If we don't kill him, we can't be
hanged for his murder."

"Don't be too sure of that," exclaimed Maenck.  "If he
goes away and never returns, what proof can we offer that
we did not kill him, should we be charged with the crime?
And if we let him go, and later he returns and gains his
throne, he will see that we are hanged anyway for treason.

"The safest thing to do is to put him where he at least
cannot come back to threaten us, and having done so upon
the orders of Peter, let the king's blood be upon Peter's
head.  I, at least, shall obey my master, and let you two bear
witness that I did the thing with my own hand."  So saying
he drew his sword and crossed toward the king.

But Captain Ernst Maenck never reached his sovereign.

As the terrified shriek of the sorry monarch rang through
the interior of the desolate ruin another sound mingled with
it, half-drowning the piercing wail of terror.

It was the sharp crack of a revolver, and even as it spoke
Maenck lunged awkwardly forward, stumbled, and collapsed
at Leopold's feet.  With a moan the king shrank back from
the grisly thing that touched his boot, and then two men
were in the center of the room, and things were happening
with a rapidity that was bewildering.

About all that he could afterward recall with any distinct-
ness was the terrified face of Coblich, as he rushed past him
toward a door in the opposite side of the room, and the
horrid leer upon the face of the dead trooper, who foolishly,
had made a move to draw his revolver.


Within the cathedral at Lustadt excitement was at fever
heat.  It lacked but two minutes of noon, and as yet no king
had come to claim the crown.  Rumors were running riot
through the close-packed audience.

One man had heard the king's chamberlain report to Prince
von der Tann that the master of ceremonies had found the
king's apartments vacant when he had gone to urge the
monarch to hasten his preparations for the coronation.

Another had seen Butzow and two strangers galloping
north through the city.  A third told of a little old man who
had come to the king with an urgent message.

Peter of Blentz and Prince Ludwig were talking in whis-
pers at the foot of the chancel steps.  Peter ascended the
steps and facing the assemblage raised a silencing hand.

"He who claimed to be Leopold of Lutha," he said, "was
but a mad adventurer.  He would have seized the throne of
the Rubinroths had his nerve not failed him at the last mo-
ment.  He has fled.  The true king is dead.  Now I, Prince
Regent of Lutha, declare the throne vacant, and announce
myself king!"

There were a few scattered cheers and some hissing.  A
score of the nobles rose as though to protest, but before any
could take a step the attention of all was directed toward
the sorry figure of a white-faced man who scurried up the
broad center aisle.

It was Coblich.

He ran to Peter's side, and though he attempted to speak
in a whisper, so out of breath, and so filled with hysterical
terror was he that his words came out in gasps that were
audible to many of those who stood near by.

"Maenck is dead," he cried.  "The impostor has stolen the
king."

Peter of Blentz went white as his lieutenant.  Von der Tann
heard and demanded an explanation.

"You said that Leopold was dead," he said accusingly.

Peter regained his self-control quickly.

"Coblich is excited," he explained.  "He means that the
impostor has stolen the body of the king that Coblich and
Maenck had discovered and were bring to Lustadt."

Von der Tann looked troubled.

He knew not what to make of the series of wild tales that
had come to his ears within the past hour.  He had hoped
that the young man whom he had last seen in the king's
apartments was the true Leopold.  He would have been glad
to have served such a one, but there had been many in-
explicable occurrences which tended to cast a doubt upon
the man's claims--and yet, had he ever claimed to be the
king?  It suddenly occurred to the old prince that he had
not.  On the contrary he had repeatedly stated to Prince
Ludwig's daughter and to Lieutenant Butzow that he was
not Leopold.

It seemed that they had all been so anxious to believe
him king that they had forced the false position upon him,
and now if he had indeed committed the atrocity that
Coblich charged against him, who could wonder?  With less
provocation men had before attempted to seize thrones by
more dastardly means.

Peter of Blentz was speaking.

"Let the coronation proceed," he cried, "that Lutha may
have a true king to frustrate the plans of the impostor and
the traitors who had supported him."

He cast a meaning glance at Prince von der Tann.

There were many cries for Peter of Blentz.  "Let's have
done with treason, and place upon the throne of Lutha
one whom we know to be both a Luthanian and sane.
Down with the mad king!  Down with the impostor!"

Peter turned to ascend the chancel steps.

Von der Tann still hesitated.  Below him upon one side of
the aisle were massed his own retainers.  Opposite them were
the men of the Regent, and dividing the two the parallel
ranks of Horse Guards stretched from the chancel down
the broad aisle to the great doors.  These were strongly for
the impostor, if impostor he was, who had led them to
victory over the men of the Blentz faction.

Von der Tann knew that they would fight to the last ditch
for their hero should he come to claim the crown.  Yet how
would they fight--to which side would they cleave, were
he to attempt to frustrate the design of the Regent to seize
the throne of Lutha?

Already Peter of Blentz had approached the bishop, who,
eager to propitiate whoever seemed most likely to become
king, gave the signal for the procession that was to mark
the solemn bearing of the crown of Lutha up the aisle to
the chancel.

Outside the cathedral there was the sudden blare of
trumpets.  The great doors swung violently open, and the
entire throng were upon their feet in an instant as a trooper
of the Royal Horse shouted: "The king!  The king!  Make
way for Leopold of Lutha!"




XII

THE GRATITUDE OF A KING

AT THE CRY silence fell upon the throng.  Every head was
turned toward the great doors through which the head of a
procession was just visible.  It was a grim looking procession
--the head of it, at least.

There were four khaki-clad trumpeters from the Royal
Horse Guards, the gay and resplendent uniforms which they
should have donned today conspicuous for their absence.
From their brazen bugles sounded another loud fanfare, and
then they separated, two upon each side of the aisle, and
between them marched three men.

One was tall, with gray eyes and had a reddish-brown
beard.  He was fully clothed in the coronation robes of Leo-
pold.  Upon his either hand walked the others--Lieutenant
Butzow and a gray-eyed, smooth-faced, square-jawed stran-
ger.

Behind them marched the balance of the Royal Horse
Guards that were not already on duty within the cathedral.
As the eyes of the multitude fell upon the man in the
coronation robes there were cries of: "The king!  Impostor!"
and "Von der Tann's puppet!"

"Denounce him!" whispered one of Peter's henchmen in
his master's ear.

The Regent moved closer to the aisle, that he might meet
the impostor at the foot of the chancel steps.  The pro-
cession was moving steadily up the aisle.

Among the clan of Von der Tann a young girl with wide
eyes was bending forward that she might have a better
look at the face of the king.  As he came opposite her her
eyes filled with horror, and then she saw the eyes of the
smooth-faced stranger at the king's side.  They were brave,
laughing eyes, and as they looked straight into her own the
truth flashed upon her, and the girl gave a gasp of dismay
as she realized that the king of Lutha and the king of her
heart were not one and the same.

At last the head of the procession was almost at the foot
of the chancel steps.  There were murmurs of: "It is not
the king," and "Who is this new impostor?"

Leopold's eyes were searching the faces of the close-
packed nobility about the chancel.  At last they fell upon
the face of Peter.  The young man halted not two paces
from the Regent.  The man went white as the king's eyes
bored straight into his miserable soul.

"Peter of Blentz," cried the young man, "as God is your
judge, tell the truth today.  Who am I?"

The legs of the Prince Regent trembled.  He sank upon
his knees, raising his hands in supplication toward the other.
"Have pity on me, your majesty, have pity!" he cried.

"Who am I, man?" insisted the king.

"You are Leopold Rubinroth, sire, by the grace of God,
king of Lutha," cried the frightened man.  "Have mercy on
an old man, your majesty."

"Wait!  Am I mad?  Was I ever mad?"

"As God is my judge, sire, no!" replied Peter of Blentz.

Leopold turned to Butzow.

"Remove the traitor from our presence," he commanded,
and at a word from the lieutenant a dozen guardsmen
seized the trembling man and hustled him from the cathedral
amid hisses and execrations.


Following the coronation the king was closeted in his
private audience chamber in the palace with Prince Lud-
wig.

"I cannot understand what has happened, even now, your
majesty," the old man was saying.  "That you are the true
Leopold is all that I am positive of, for the discomfiture
of Prince Peter evidenced that fact all too plainly.  But who
the impostor was who ruled Lutha in your name for two
days, disappearing as miraculously as he came, I cannot
guess.

"But for another miracle which preserved you for us in
the nick of time he might now be wearing the crown of
Lutha in your stead.  Having Peter of Blentz safely in cus-
tody our next immediate task should be to hunt down the
impostor and bring him to justice also; though"--and the
old prince sighed--"he was indeed a brave man, and a
noble figure of a king as he led your troops to battle."

The king had been smiling as Von der Tann first spoke of
the "impostor," but at the old man's praise of the other's
bravery a slight flush tinged his cheek, and the shadow of
a scowl crossed his brow.

"Wait," he said, "we shall not have to look far for your
'impostor,'" and summoning an aide he dispatched him for
"Lieutenant Butzow and Mr. Custer."

A moment later the two entered the audience chamber.
Barney found that Leopold the king, surrounded by com-
forts and safety, was a very different person from Leopold
the fugitive.  The weak face now wore an expression of ar-
rogance, though the king spoke most graciously to the
American.

"Here, Von der Tann," said Leopold, "is your 'impostor.'
But for him I should doubtless be dead by now, or once
again a prisoner at Blentz."

Barney and Butzow found it necessary to repeat their
stories several times before the old man could fully grasp
all that had transpired beneath his very nose without his
being aware of scarce a single detail of it.

When he was finally convinced that they were telling the
truth, he extended his hand to the American.

"I knelt to you once, young man," he said, "and kissed
your hand.  I should be filled with bitterness and rage to-
ward you.  On the contrary, I find that I am proud to have
served in the retinue of such an impostor as you, for you
upheld the prestige of the house of Rubinroth upon the
battlefield, and though you might have had a crown, you
refused it and brought the true king into his own."

Leopold sat tapping his foot upon the carpet.  It was all
very well if he, the king, chose to praise the American, but
there was no need for old von der Tann to slop over so.
The king did not like it.  As a matter of fact, he found him-
self becoming very jealous of the man who had placed him
upon his throne.

"There is only one thing that I can harbor against you,"
continued Prince Ludwig, "and that is that in a single in-
stance you deceived me, for an hour before the coronation
you told me that you were a Rubinroth."

"I told you, prince," corrected Barney, "that the royal
blood of Rubinroth flowed in my veins, and so it does.  I
am the son of the runaway Princess Victoria of Lutha."

Both Leopold and Ludwig looked their surprise, and to
the king's eyes came a sudden look of fear.  With the royal
blood in his veins, what was there to prevent this popular
hero from some day striving for the throne he had once re-
fused?  Leopold knew that the minds of men were wont to
change most unaccountably.

"Butzow," he said suddenly to the lieutenant of horse,
"how many do you imagine know positively that he who
has ruled Lutha for the past two days and he who was
crowned in the cathedral this noon are not one and the
same?"

"Only a few besides those who are in this room, your
majesty," replied Butzow.  "Peter and Coblich have known
it from the first, and then there is Kramer, the loyal old
shopkeeper of Tafelberg, who followed Coblich and Maenck
all night and half a day as they dragged the king to the
hiding-place where we found him.  Other than these there
may be those who guess the truth, but there are none who
know."

For a moment the king sat in thought.  Then he rose and
commenced packing back and forth the length of the apart-
ment.

"Why should they ever know?" he said at last, halting
before the three men who had been standing watching him.
"For the sake of Lutha they should never know that an-
other than the true king sat upon the throne even for an
hour."

He was thinking of the comparison that might be drawn
between the heroic figure of the American and his own
colorless part in the events which had led up to his corona-
tion.  In his heart of hearts he felt that old Von der Tann
rather regretted that the American had not been the king,
and he hated the old man accordingly, and was commenc-
ing to hate the American as well.

Prince Ludwig stood looking at the carpet after the king
had spoken.  His judgment told him that the king's sug-
gestion was a wise one; but he was sorry and ashamed that
it had come from Leopold.  Butzow's lips almost showed
the contempt that he felt for the ingratitude of his king.

Barney Custer was the first to speak.

"I think his majesty is quite right," he said, "and tonight
I can leave the palace after dark and cross the border some
time tomorrow evening.  The people need never know the
truth."

Leopold looked relieved.

"We must reward you, Mr. Custer," he said.  "Name that
which it lies within our power to grant you and it shall
be yours."

Barney thought of the girl he loved; but he did not men-
tion her name, for he knew that she was not for him now.

"There is nothing, your majesty," he said.

"A money reward," Leopold started to suggest, and then
Barney Custer lost his temper.

A flush mounted to his face, his chin went up, and there
came to his lips bitter words of sarcasm.  With an effort,
however, he held his tongue, and, turning his back upon
the king, his broad shoulders proclaiming the contempt he
felt, he walked slowly out of the room.

Von der Tann and Butzow and Leopold of Lutha stood
in silence as the American passed out of sight beyond the
portal.

The manner of his going had been an affront to the king,
and the young ruler had gone red with anger.

"Butzow," he cried, "bring the fellow back; he shall be
taught a lesson in the deference that is due kings."

Butzow hesitated.  "He has risked his life a dozen times
for your majesty," said the lieutenant.

Leopold flushed.

"Do not humiliate him, sire," advised Von der Tann.  "He
has earned a greater reward at your hands than that."

The king resumed his pacing for a moment, coming to a
halt once more before the two.

"We shall take no notice of his insolence," he said, "and
that shall be our royal reward for his services.  More than he
deserves, we dare say, at that."

As Barney hastened through the palace on his way to his
new quarters to obtain his arms and order his horse sad-
dled, he came suddenly upon a girlish figure gazing sadly
from a window upon the drear November world--her heart
as sad as the day.

At the sound of his footstep she turned, and as her eyes
met the gray ones of the man she stood poised as though
of half a mind to fly.  For a moment neither spoke.

"Can your highness forgive?" he asked.

For answer the girl buried her face in her hands and
dropped upon the cushioned window seat before her.  The
American came close and knelt at her side.

"Don't," he begged as he saw her shoulders rise to the
sudden sobbing that racked her slender frame.  "Don't!"

He thought that she wept from mortification that she had
given her kisses to another than the king.

"None knows," he continued, "what has passed between
us.  None but you and I need ever know.  I tried to make
you understand that I was not Leopold; but you would
not believe.  It is not my fault that I loved you.  It is not
my fault that I shall always love you.  Tell me that you for-
give me my part in the chain of strange circumstances that
deceived you into an acknowledgment of a love that you
intended for another.  Forgive me, Emma!"

Down the corridor behind them a tall figure approached
on silent, noiseless feet.  At sight of the two at the window
seat it halted.  It was the king.

The girl looked up suddenly into the eyes of the Ameri-
can bending so close above her.

"I can never forgive you," she cried, "for not being the
king, for I am betrothed to him--and I love you!"

Before she could prevent him, Barney Custer had taken
her in his arms, and though at first she made a pretense of
attempting to escape, at last she lay quite still.  Her arms
found their way about the man's neck, and her lips returned
the kisses that his were showering upon her upturned mouth.

Presently her glance wandered above the shoulder of the
American, and of a sudden her eyes filled with terror, and,
with a little gasp of consternation, she struggled to free her-
self.

"Let me go!" she whispered.  "Let me go--the king!"

Barney sprang to his feet and, turning, faced Leopold.
The king had gone quite white.

"Failing to rob me of my crown," he cried in a trembling
voice, "you now seek to rob me of my betrothed!  Go to
your father at once, and as for you--you shall learn what
it means for you thus to meddle in the affairs of kings."

Barney saw the terrible position in which his love had
placed the Princess Emma.  His only thought now was for
her.  Bowing low before her he spoke so that the king might
hear, yet as though his words were for her ears alone.

"Your highness knows the truth, now," he said, "and that
after all I am not the king.  I can only ask that you will
forgive me the deception.  Now go to your father as the
king commands."

Slowly the girl turned away.  Her heart was torn between
love for this man, and her duty toward the other to whom
she had been betrothed in childhood.  The hereditary in-
stinct of obedience to her sovereign was strong within her,
and the bonds of custom and society held her in their re-
lentless shackles.  With a sob she passed up the corridor,
curtsying to the king as she passed him.

When she had gone Leopold turned to the American.
There was an evil look in the little gray eyes of the monarch.

"You may go your way," he said coldly.  "We shall give
you forty-eight hours to leave Lutha.  Should you ever re-
turn your life shall be the forfeit."

The American kept back the hot words that were ready
upon the end of his tongue.  For her sake he must bow to
fate.  With a slight inclination of his head toward Leopold
he wheeled and resumed his way toward his quarters.

Half an hour later as he was about to descend to the
courtyard where a trooper of the Royal Horse held his
waiting mount, Butzow burst suddenly into his room.

"For God's sake," cried the lieutenant, "get out of this.
The king has changed his mind, and there is an officer of the
guard on his way here now with a file of soldiers to place
you under arrest.  Leopold swears that he will hang you for
treason.  Princess Emma has spurned him, and he is wild
with rage."

The dismal November twilight had given place to bleak
night as two men cantered from the palace courtyard and
turned their horses' heads northward toward Lutha's nearest
boundary.  All night they rode, stopping at daylight before a
distant farm to feed and water their mounts and snatch a
mouthful for themselves.  Then onward once again they
pressed in their mad flight.

Now that day had come they caught occasional glimpses
of a body of horsemen far behind them, but the border was
near, and their start such that there was no danger of their
being overtaken.

"For the thousandth time, Butzow," said one of the men,
"will you turn back before it is too late?"

But the other only shook his head obstinately, and so
they came to the great granite monument which marks the
boundary between Lutha and her powerful neighbor upon
the north.

Barney held out his hand.  "Good-bye, old man," he said.
"If I've learned the ingratitude of kings here in Lutha, I
have found something that more than compensates me--
the friendship of a brave man.  Now hurry back and tell them
that I escaped across the border just as I was about to fall
into your hands and they will think that you have been
pursuing me instead of aiding in my escape across the
border."

But again Butzow shook his head.

"I have fought shoulder to shoulder with you, my friend,"
he said.  "I have called you king, and after that I could
never serve the coward who sits now upon the throne of
Lutha.  I have made up my mind during this long ride from
Lustadt, and I have come to the decision that I should pre-
fer to raise corn in Nebraska with you rather than serve in
the court of an ingrate."

"Well, you are an obstinate Dutchman, after all," replied
the American with a smile, placing his hand affectionately
upon the shoulder of his comrade.

There was a clatter of horses' hoofs upon the gravel of
the road behind them.

The two men put spurs to their mounts, and Barney
Custer galloped across the northern boundary of Lutha just
ahead of a troop of Luthanian cavalry, as had his father
thirty years before; but a royal princess had accompanied
the father--only a soldier accompanied the son.





PART II


I

BARNEY RETURNS TO LUTHA

"WHAT'S THE MATTER, Vic?" asked Barney Custer of his
sister.  "You look peeved."

"I am peeved," replied the girl, smiling.  "I am terribly
peeved.  I don't want to play bridge this afternoon.  I want
to go motoring with Lieutenant Butzow.  This is his last
day with us."

"Yes.  I know it is, and I hate to think of it," replied
Barney; "but why in the world do you have to play bridge
if you don't want to?"

"I promised Margaret that I'd go.  They're short one, and
she's coming after me in her car."

"Where are you going to play--at the champion lady
bridge player's on Fourth Street?" asked Barney, grinning.

His sister answered with a nod and a smile.  "Where you
brought down the wrath of the lady champion upon your
head the other night when you were letting your mind
wander across to Lutha and the Old Forest, instead of
paying attention to the game," she added.

"Well, cheer up, Vic," cried her brother.  "Bert'll probably
set fire to the car, the way he did to their first one, and
then you won't have to go."

"Oh, yes, I would; Margaret would send him after me
in that awful-looking, unwashed Ford runabout of his," an-
swered the girl.

"And then you WOULD go," said Barney.

"You bet I would," laughed Victoria.  "I'd go in a wheel-
barrow with Bert."

But she didn't have to; and after she had driven off with
her chum, Barney and Butzow strolled down through the
little city of Beatrice to the corn mill in which the former
was interested.

"I'm mighty sorry that you have to leave us, Butzow,"
said Barney's partner.  "It's bad enough to lose you, but I'm
afraid it will mean the loss of Barney, too.  He's been hunt-
ing for some excuse to get back to Lutha, and with you
there and a war in sight I'm afraid nothing can hold him."

"I don't know but that it may be just as well for my
friends here that I leave," said Butzow seriously.  "I did not
tell you, Barney, all there is in this letter"--he tapped his
breastpocket, where the foreign-looking envelope reposed
with its contents.

Custer looked at him inquiringly.

"Besides saying that war between Austria and Serbia
seems unavoidable and that Lutha doubtless will be drawn
into it, my informant warns me that Leopold had sent
emissaries to America to search for you, Barney, and my-
self.  What his purpose may be my friend does not know,
but he warns us to be upon our guard.  Von der Tann wants
me to return to Lutha.  He has promised to protect me,
and with the country in danger there is nothing else for
me to do.  I must go."

"I wish I could go with you," said Barney.  "If it wasn't
for this dinged old mill I would; but Bert wants to go
away this summer, and as I have been away most of the
time for the past two years, it's up to me to stay."

As the three men talked the afternoon wore on.  Heavy
clouds gathered in the sky; a storm was brewing.  Outside, a
man, skulking behind a box car on the siding, watched the
entrance through which the three had gone.  He watched
the workmen, and as quitting time came and he saw them
leaving for their homes he moved more restlessly, trans-
ferring the package which he held from one hand to an-
other many times, yet always gingerly.

At last all had left.  The man started from behind the box
car, only to jump back as the watchman appeared around
the end of one of the buildings.  He watched the guardian
of the property make his rounds; he saw him enter his of-
fice, and then he crept forward toward the building, hold-
ing his queer package in his right hand.

In the office the watchman came upon the three friends.
At sight of him they looked at one another in surprise.

"Why, what time is it?" exclaimed Custer, and as he
looked at his watch he rose with a laugh.  "Late to dinner
again," he cried.  "Come on, we'll go out this other way."
And with a cheery good night to the watchman Barney
and his friends hastened from the building.

Upon the opposite side the stranger approached the door-
way to the mill.  The rain was falling in blinding sheets.
Ominously the thunder roared.  Vivid flashes of lightning
shot the heavens.  The watchman, coming suddenly from
the doorway, his hat brim pulled low over his eyes, passed
within a couple of paces of the stranger without seeing him.

Five minutes later there was a blinding glare accompanied
by a deafening roar.  It was as though nature had marshaled
all her forces in one mighty, devastating effort.  At the same
instant the walls of the great mill burst asunder, a nebulous
mass of burning gas shot heavenward, and then the flames
settled down to complete the destruction of the ruin.

It was the following morning that Victoria and Barney
Custer, with Lieutenant Butzow and Custer's partner, stood
contemplating the smoldering wreckage.

"And to think," said Barney, "that yesterday this muss
was the largest corn mill west of anywhere.  I guess we
can both take vacations now, Bert."

"Who would have thought that a single bolt of lightning
could have resulted in such havoc?" mused Victoria.

"Who would?" agreed Lieutenant Butzow, and then, with
a sudden narrowing of his eyes and a quick glance at Bar-
ney, "if it WAS lightning."

The American looked at the Luthanian.  "You think--" he
started.

"I don't dare think," replied Butzow, "because of the
fear of what this may mean to you and Miss Victoria if it
was not lightning that destroyed the mill.  I shouldn't have
spoken of it but that it may urge you to greater caution,
which I cannot but think is most necessary since the warn-
ing I received from Lutha."

"Why should Leopold seek to harm me now?" asked Bar-
ney.  "It has been almost two years since you and I placed
him upon his throne, only to be rewarded with threats and
hatred.  In that time neither of us has returned to Lutha
nor in any way conspired against the king.  I cannot fathom
his motives."

"There is the Princess Emma von der Tann," Butzow
reminded him.  "She still repulses him.  He may think that,
with you removed definitely and permanently, all will then
be plain sailing for him in that direction.  Evidently he does
not know the princess."


An hour later they were all bidding Butzow good-bye at
the station.  Victoria Custer was genuinely grieved to see
him go, for she liked this soldierly young officer of the Royal
Horse Guards immensely.

"You must come back to America soon," she urged.

He looked down at her from the steps of the moving train.
There was something in his expression that she had never
seen there before.

"I want to come back soon," he answered, "to--to Bea-
trice," and he flushed and smiled at his own stumbling
tongue.

For about a week Barney Custer moped disconsolately,
principally about the ruins of the corn mill.  He was in every-
one's way and accomplished nothing.

"I was never intended for a captain of industry," he con-
fided to his partner for the hundredth time.  "I wish some
excuse would pop up to which I might hang a reason for
beating it to Europe.  There's something doing there.  Nearly
everybody has declared war upon everybody else, and here
I am stagnating in peace.  I'd even welcome a tornado."

His excuse was to come sooner than he imagined.  That
night, after the other members of his family had retired,
Barney sat smoking within a screened porch off the living-
room.  His thoughts were upon a trim little figure in riding
togs, as he had first seen it nearly two years before, clinging
desperately to a runaway horse upon the narrow mountain
road above Tafelberg.

He lived that thrilling experience through again as he had
many times before.  He even smiled as he recalled the series
of events that had resulted from his resemblance to the mad
king of Lutha.

They had come to a culmination at the time when the
king, whom Barney had placed upon a throne at the risk
of his own life, discovered that his savior loved the girl to
whom the king had been betrothed since childhood and
that the girl returned the American's love even after she
knew that he had but played the part of a king.

Barney's cigar, forgotten, had long since died out.  Not
even its former fitful glow proclaimed his presence upon the
porch, whose black shadows completely enveloped him.  Be-
fore him stretched a wide acreage of lawn, tree dotted at
the side of the house.  Bushes hid the stone wall that
marked the boundary of the Custer grounds and extended
here and there out upon the sward among the trees.  The
night was moonless but clear.  A faint light pervaded the
scene.

Barney sat staring straight ahead, but his gaze did not
stop upon the familiar objects of the foreground.  Instead it
spanned two continents and an ocean to rest upon the little
spot of woodland and rugged mountain and lowland that
is Lutha.  It was with an effort that the man suddenly focused
his attention upon that which lay directly before him.  A
shadow among the trees had moved!

Barney Custer sat perfectly still, but now he was sud-
denly alert and watchful.  Again the shadow moved where
no shadow should be moving.  It crossed from the shade of
one tree to another.  Barney came cautiously to his feet.
Silently he entered the house, running quickly to a side door
that opened upon the grounds.  As he drew it back its
hinges gave forth no sound.  Barney looked toward the spot
where he had seen the shadow.  Again he saw it scuttle
hurriedly beneath another tree nearer the house.  This time
there was no doubt.  It was a man!

Directly before the door where Barney stood was a per-
gola, ivy-covered.  Behind this he slid, and, running its
length, came out among the trees behind the night prowler.
Now he saw him distinctly.  The fellow was bearded, and
in his right hand he carried a package.  Instantly Barney
recalled Butzow's comment upon the destruction of the mill
--"if it WAS lightning!"

Cold sweat broke from every pore of his body.  His mother
and father were there in the house, and Vic--all sleeping
peacefully.  He ran quickly toward the menacing figure,
and as he did so he saw the other halt behind a great tree
and strike a match.  In the glow of the flame he saw it
touch close to the package that the fellow held, and then he
was upon him.

There was a brief and terrific struggle.  The stranger hurled
the package toward the house.  Barney caught him by the
throat, beating him heavily in the face; and then, realizing
what the package was, he hurled the fellow from him, and
sprang toward the hissing and sputtering missile where it
lay close to the foundation wall of the house, though in the
instant of his close contact with the man he had recognized
through the disguising beard the features of Captain Ernst
Maenck, the principal tool of Peter of Blentz.

Quick though Barney was to reach the bomb and ex-
tinguish the fuse, Maenck had disappeared before he re-
turned to search for him; and, though he roused the gardener
and chauffeur and took turns with them in standing guard
the balance of the night, the would-be assassin did not
return.

There was no question in Barney Custer's mind as to
whom the bomb was intended for.  That Maenck had hurled
it toward the house after Barney had seized him was merely
the result of accident and the man's desire to get the death-
dealing missile as far from himself as possible before it ex-
ploded.  That it would have wrecked the house in the hope
of reaching him, had he not fortunately interfered, was too
evident to the American to be questioned.

And so he decided before the night was spent to put him-
self as far from his family as possible, lest some future
attempt upon his life might endanger theirs.  Then, too,
righteous anger and a desire for revenge prompted his de-
cision.  He would run Maenck to earth and have an ac-
counting with him.  It was evident that his life would not
be worth a farthing so long as the fellow was at liberty.

Before dawn he swore the gardener and chauffeur to si-
lence, and at breakfast announced his intention of leaving
that day for New York to seek a commission as correspondent
with an old classmate, who owned the New York Evening
National.  At the hotel Barney inquired of the proprietor
relative to a bearded stranger, but the man had had no one
of that description registered.  Chance, however, gave him a
clue.  His roadster was in a repair shop, and as he stopped
in to get it he overheard a conversation that told him all
he wanted to know.  As he stood talking with the foreman
a dust-covered automobile pulled into the garage.

"Hello, Bill," called the foreman to the driver.  "Where
you been so early?"

"Took a guy to Lincoln," replied the other.  "He was in
an awful hurry.  I bet we broke all the records for that
stretch of road this morning--I never knew the old boat
had it in her."

"Who was it?" asked Barney.

"I dunno," replied the driver.  "Talked like a furriner, and
looked the part.  Bushy black beard.  Said he was a German
army officer, an' had to beat it back on account of the war.
Seemed to me like he was mighty anxious to get back there
an' be killed."

Barney waited to hear no more.  He did not even go
home to say good-bye to his family.  Instead he leaped into
his gray roadster--a later model of the one he had lost in
Lutha--and the last that Beatrice, Nebraska, saw of him
was a whirling cloud of dust as he raced north out of town
toward Lincoln.

He was five minutes too late into the capital city to catch
the eastbound limited that Maenck must have taken; but
he caught the next through train for Chicago, and the
second day thereafter found him in New York.  There he
had little difficulty in obtaining the desired credentials from
his newspaper friend, especially since Barney offered to pay
all his own expenses and donate to the paper anything he
found time to write.

Passenger steamers were still sailing, though irregularly,
and after scanning the passenger-lists of three he found the
name he sought.  "Captain Ernst Maenck, Lutha."  So he had
not been mistaken, after all.  It was Maenck he had appre-
hended on his father's grounds.  Evidently the man had little
fear of being followed, for he had made no effort to hide
his identity in booking passage for Europe.

The steamer he had caught had sailed that very morning.
Barney was not so sorry, after all, for he had had time
during his trip from Beatrice to do considerable thinking,
and had found it rather difficult to determine just what to
do should he have overtaken Maenck in the United States.
He couldn't kill the man in cold blood, justly as he may
have deserved the fate, and the thought of causing his ar-
rest and dragging his own name into the publicity of court
proceedings was little less distasteful to him.

Furthermore, the pursuit of Maenck now gave Barney a
legitimate excuse for returning to Lutha, or at least to the
close neighborhood of the little kingdom, where he might
await the outcome of events and be ready to give his services
in the cause of the house of Von der Tann should they be
required.

By going directly to Italy and entering Austria from that
country Barney managed to arrive within the boundaries of
the dual monarchy with comparatively few delays.  Nor did
he encounter any considerable bodies of troops until he
reached the little town of Burgova, which lies not far from the
Serbian frontier.  Beyond this point his credentials would
not carry him.  The emperor's officers were polite, but firm.
No newspaper correspondents could be permitted nearer
the front than Burgova.

There was nothing to be done, therefore, but wait until
some propitious event gave him the opportunity to approach
more closely the Serbian boundary and Lutha.  In the mean-
time he would communicate with Butzow, who might be
able to obtain passes for him to some village nearer the
Luthanian frontier, when it should be an easy matter to
cross through to Serbia.  He was sure the Serbian authori-
ties would object less strenuously to his presence.

The inn at which he applied for accommodations was al-
ready overrun by officers, but the proprietor, with scant
apologies for a civilian, offered him a little box of a room in
the attic.  The place was scarce more than a closet, and for
that Barney was in a way thankful since the limited space
could accommodate but a single cot, thus insuring him the
privacy that a larger chamber would have precluded.

He was very tired after his long and comfortless land
journey, so after an early dinner he went immediately to
his room and to bed.  How long he slept he did not know,
but some time during the night he was awakened by the
sound of voices apparently close to his ear.

For a moment he thought the speakers must be in his
own room, so distinctly did he overhear each word of their
conversation; but presently he discovered that they were
upon the opposite side of a thin partition in an adjoining
room.  But half awake, and with the sole idea of getting
back to sleep again as quickly as possible, Barney paid only
the slightest attention to the meaning of the words that fell
upon his ears, until, like a bomb, a sentence broke through
his sleepy faculties, banishing Morpheus upon the instant.

"It will take but little now to turn Leopold against Von
der Tann."  The speaker evidently was an Austrian.  "Already
I have half convinced him that the old man aspires to the
throne.  Leopold fears the loyalty of his army, which is for
Von der Tann body and soul.  He knows that Von der Tann
is strongly anti-Austrian, and I have made it plain to him
that if he allows his kingdom to take sides with Serbia he
will have no kingdom when the war is over--it will be a
part of Austria.

"It was with greater difficulty, however, my dear Peter,
that I convinced him that you, Von Coblich, and Captain
Maenck were his most loyal friends.  He fears you yet, but,
nevertheless, he has pardoned you all.  Do not forget when
you return to your dear Lutha that you owe your repatria-
tion to Count Zellerndorf of Austria."

"You may be assured that we shall never forget," replied
another voice that Barney recognized at once as belonging
to Prince Peter of Blentz, the one time regent of Lutha.

"It is not for myself," continued Count Zellerndorf, "that I
crave your gratitude, but for my emperor.  You may do
much to win his undying gratitude, while for yourselves
you may win to almost any height with the friendship of
Austria behind you.  I am sure that should any accident,
which God forfend, deprive Lutha of her king, none would
make a more welcome successor in the eyes of Austria than
our good friend Peter."

Barney could almost see the smile of satisfaction upon the
thin lips of Peter of Blentz as this broad hint fell from the
lips of the Austrian diplomat--a hint that seemed to the
American little short of the death sentence of Leopold, King
of Lutha.

"We owed you much before, count," said Peter.  "But for
you we should have been hanged a year ago--without your
aid we should never have been able to escape from the
fortress of Lustadt or cross the border into Austria-Hungary.
I am sorry that Maenck failed in his mission, for had he
not we would have had concrete evidence to present to the
king that we are indeed his loyal supporters.  It would have
dispelled at once such fears and doubts as he may still
entertain of our fealty."

"Yes, I, too, am sorry," agreed Zellerndorf.  "I can assure
you that the news we hoped Captain Maenck would bring
from America would have gone a long way toward re-
storing you to the confidence and good graces of the king."

"I did my best," came another voice that caused Barney's
eyes to go wide in astonishment, for it was none other than
the voice of Maenck himself.  "Twice I risked hanging to
get him and only came away after I had been recognized."

"It is too bad," sighed Zellerndorf; "though it may not be
without its advantages after all, for now we still have this
second bugbear to frighten Leopold with.  So long, of course,
as the American lives there is always the chance that he
may return and seek to gain the throne.  The fact that his
mother was a Rubinroth princess might make it easy for
Von der Tann to place him upon the throne without much
opposition, and if he married the old man's daughter it is
easy to conceive that the prince might favor such a move.
At any rate, it should not be difficult to persuade Leopold
of the possibility of such a thing.

"Under the circumstances Leopold is almost convinced
that his only hope of salvation lies in cementing friendly
relations with the most powerful of Von der Tann's enemies,
of which you three gentlemen stand preeminently in the
foreground, and of assuring to himself the support of Aus-
tria.  And now, gentlemen," he went on after a pause, "good
night.  I have handed Prince Peter the necessary military
passes to carry you safely through our lines, and tomorrow
you may be in Blentz if you wish."




II

CONDEMNED TO DEATH

FOR SOME time Barney Custer lay there in the dark revolv-
ing in his mind all that he had overheard through the parti-
tion--the thin partition which alone lay between himself
and three men who would be only too glad to embrace the
first opportunity to destroy him.  But his fears were not for
himself so much as for the daughter of old Von der Tann,
and for all that might befall that princely house were these
three unhung rascals to gain Lutha and have their way
with the weak and cowardly king who reigned there.

If he could but reach Von der Tann's ear and through
him the king before the conspirators came to Lutha!  But
how might he accomplish it?  Count Zellerndorf's parting
words to the three had shown that military passes were
necessary to enable one to reach Lutha.

His papers were practically worthless even inside the lines.
That they would carry him through the lines he had not
the slightest hope.  There were two things to be accomplished
if possible.  One was to cross the frontier into Lutha; and
the other, which of course was quite out of the question,
was to prevent Peter of Blentz, Von Coblich, and Maenck
from doing so.  But was that altogether impossible?

The idea that followed that question came so suddenly
that it brought Barney Custer out onto the floor in a bound,
to don his clothes and sneak into the hall outside his room
with the stealth of a professional second-story man.

To the right of his own door was the door to the apart-
ment in which the three conspirators slept.  At least, Barney
hoped they slept.  He bent close to the keyhole and lis-
tened.  From within came no sound other than the regular
breathing of the inmates.  It had been at least half an hour
since the American had heard the conversation cease.  A
glance through the keyhole showed no light within the
room.  Stealthily Barney turned the knob.  Had they bolted
the door?  He felt the tumbler move to the pressure--
soundlessly.  Then he pushed gently inward.  The door swung.

A moment later he stood in the room.  Dimly he could
see two beds--a large one and a smaller.  Peter of Blentz
would be alone upon the smaller bed, his henchmen sleep-
ing together in the larger.  Barney crept toward the lone
sleeper.  At the bedside he fumbled in the dark groping for
the man's clothing--for the coat, in the breastpocket of
which he hoped to find the military pass that might carry
him safely out of Austria-Hungary and into Lutha.  On the
foot of the bed he found some garments.  Gingerly he felt
them over, seeking the coat.

At last he found it.  His fingers, steady even under the
nervous tension of this unaccustomed labor, discovered the
inner pocket and the folded paper.  There were several of
them; Barney took them all.

So far he made no noise.  None of the sleepers had stirred.
Now he took a step toward the doorway and--kicked a
shoe that lay in his path.  The slight noise in that quiet room
sounded to Barney's ears like the fall of a brick wall.  Peter
of Blentz stirred, turning in his sleep.  Behind him Barney
heard one of the men in the other bed move.  He turned his
head in that direction.  Either Maenck or Coblich was sitting
up peering through the darkness.

"Is that you, Prince Peter?"  The voice was Maenck's.

"What's the matter?" persisted Maenck.

"I'm going for a drink of water," replied the American,
and stepped toward the door.

Behind him Peter of Blentz sat up in bed.

"That you, Maenck?" he called.

Instantly Maenck was out of bed, for the first voice had
come from the vicinity of the doorway; both could not be
Peter's.

"Quick!" he cried; "there's someone in our room."

Barney leaped for the doorway, and upon his heels came
the three conspirators.  Maenck was closest to him--so close
that Barney was forced to turn at the top of the stairs.  In
the darkness he was just conscious of the form of the man
who was almost upon him.  Then he swung a vicious blow
for the other's face--a blow that landed, for there was a
cry of pain and anger as Maenck stumbled back into the
arms of the two behind him.  From below came the sound
of footsteps hurrying up the stairs to the accompaniment
of a clanking saber.  Barney's retreat was cut off.

Turning, he dodged into his own room before the enemy
could locate him or even extricate themselves from the con-
fusion of Maenck's sudden collision with the other two.  But
what could Barney gain by the slight delay that would be
immediately followed by his apprehension?

He didn't know.  All that he was sure of was that there
had been no other place to go than this little room.  As he
entered the first thing that his eyes fell upon was the small
square window.  Here at least was some slight encourage-
ment.

He ran toward it.  The lower sash was raised.  As the
door behind him opened to admit Peter of Blentz and his
companions, Barney slipped through into the night, hanging
by his hands from the sill without.  What lay beneath or
how far the drop he could not guess, but that certain death
menaced him from above he knew from the conversation he
had overheard earlier in the evening.

For an instant he hung suspended.  He heard the men
groping about the room.  Evidently they were in some fear
of the unknown assailant they sought, for they did not
move about with undue rashness.  Presently one of them
struck a light--Barney could see its flare lighten the window
casing for an instant.

"The room is empty," came a voice from above him.

"Look to the window!" cried Peter of Blentz, and then
Barney Custer let go his hold upon the sill and dropped
into the blackness below.

His fall was a short one, for the window had been di-
rectly over a low shed at the side of the inn.  Upon the
roof of this the American landed, and from there he dropped
to the courtyard without mishap.  Glancing up, he saw the
heads of three men peering from the window of the room
he had just quitted.

"There he is!" cried one, and instantly the three turned
back into the room.  As Barney fled from the courtyard he
heard the rattle of hasty footsteps upon the rickety stairway
of the inn.

Choosing an alley rather than a street in which he might
run upon soldiers at any moment, he moved quickly yet
cautiously away from the inn.  Behind him he could hear
the voices of many men.  They were raised to a high pitch
by excitement.  It was clear to Barney that there were many
more than the original three--Prince Peter had, in all proba-
bility, enlisted the aid of the military.

Could he but reach the frontier with his stolen passes he
would be comparatively safe, for the rugged mountains of
Lutha offered many places of concealment, and, too, there
were few Luthanians who did not hate Peter of Blentz
most cordially--among the men of the mountains at least.
Once there he could defy a dozen Blentz princes for the little
time that would be required to carry him into Serbia and
comparative safety.

As he approached a cross street a couple of squares from
the inn he found it necessary to pass beneath a street lamp.
For a moment he paused in the shadows of the alley listen-
ing.  Hearing nothing moving in the street, Barney was about
to make a swift spring for the shadows upon the opposite
side when it occurred to him that it might be safer to make
assurance doubly sure by having a look up and down the
street before emerging into the light.

It was just as well that he did, for as he thrust his head
around the corner of the building the first thing that his eyes
fell upon was the figure of an Austrian sentry, scarcely three
paces from him.  The soldier was standing in a listening
attitude, his head half turned away from the American.  The
sounds coming from the direction of the inn were apparently
what had attracted his attention.

Behind him, Barney was sure he heard evidences of pur-
suit.  Before him was certain detection should he attempt to
cross the street.  On either hand rose the walls of buildings.
That he was trapped there seemed little doubt.

He continued to stand motionless, watching the Austrian
soldier.  Should the fellow turn toward him, he had but to
withdraw his head within the shadow of the building that
hid his body.  Possibly the man might turn and take his beat
in the opposite direction.  In which case Barney was sure
he could dodge across the street, undetected.

Already the vague threat of pursuit from the direction of
the inn had developed into a certainty--he could hear men
moving toward him through the alley from the rear.  Would
the sentry never move!  Evidently not, until he heard the
others coming through the alley.  Then he would turn, and
the devil would be to pay for the American.

Barney was about hopeless.  He had been in the war zone
long enough to know that it might prove a very disagreeable
matter to be caught sneaking through back alleys at night.
There was a single chance--a sort of forlorn hope--and that
was to risk fate and make a dash beneath the sentry's nose
for the opposite alley mouth.

"Well, here goes," thought Barney.  He had heard that
many of the Austrians were excellent shots.  Visions of Bea-
trice, Nebraska, swarmed his memory.  They were pleasant
visions, made doubly alluring by the thought that the reali-
ties of them might never again be for him.

He turned once more toward the sounds of pursuit--the
men upon his track could not be over a square away--there
was not an instant to be lost.  And then from above him,
upon the opposite side of the alley, came a low: "S-s-t!"

Barney looked up.  Very dimly he could see the dark out-
line of a window some dozen feet from the pavement, and
framed within it the lighter blotch that might have been a
human face.  Again came the challenging: "S-s-t!"  Yes, there
was someone above, signaling to him.

"S-s-t!" replied Barney.  He knew that he had been dis-
covered, and could think of no better plan for throwing the
discoverer off his guard than to reply.

Then a soft voice floated down to him--a woman's voice!

"Is that you?"  The tongue was Serbian.  Barney could
understand it, though he spoke it but indifferently.

"Yes," he replied truthfully.

"Thank Heaven!" came the voice from above.  "I have
been watching you, and thought you one of the Austrian
pigs.  Quick!  They are coming--I can hear them;" and at
the same instant Barney saw something drop from the win-
dow to the ground.  He crossed the alley quickly, and could
have shouted in relief for what he found there--the end of
a knotted rope dangling from above.

His pursuers were almost upon him when he seized the
rude ladder to clamber upward.  At the window's ledge a
firm, young hand reached out and, seizing his own, almost
dragged him through the window.  He turned to look back
into the alley.  He had been just in time; the Austrian sentry,
alarmed by the sound of approaching footsteps down the
alley, had stepped into view.  He stood there now with
leveled rifle, a challenge upon his lips.  From the advancing
party came a satisfactory reply.

At the same instant the girl beside him in the Stygian
blackness of the room threw her arms about Barney's neck
and drew his face down to hers.

"Oh, Stefan," she whispered, "what a narrow escape!  It
makes me tremble to think of it.  They would have shot you,
my Stefan!"

The American put an arm about the girl's shoulders, and
raised one hand to her cheek--it might have been in caress,
but it wasn't.  It was to smother the cry of alarm he antici-
pated would follow the discovery that he was not "Stefan."
He bent his lips close to her ear.

"Do not make an outcry," he whispered in very poor
Serbian.  "I am not Stefan; but I am a friend."

The exclamation of surprise or fright that he had expected
was not forthcoming.  The girl lowered her arms from about
his neck.

"Who are you?" she asked in a low whisper.

"I am an American war correspondent," replied Barney,
"but if the Austrians get hold of me now it will be mighty
difficult to convince them that I am not a spy."  And then a
sudden determination came to him to trust his fate to this
unknown girl, whose face, even, he had never seen.  "I am
entirely at your mercy," he said.  "There are Austrian soldiers
in the street below.  You have but to call to them to send
me before the firing squad--or, you can let me remain here
until I can find an opportunity to get away in safety.  I am
trying to reach Serbia."

"Why do you wish to reach Serbia?" asked the girl sus-
piciously.

"I have discovered too many enemies in Austria tonight
to make it safe for me to remain," he replied, "and, further,
my original intention was to report the war from the Serbian
side."

The girl hesitated for a while, evidently in thought.

"They are moving on," suggested Barney.  "If you are
going to give me up you'd better do it at once."

"I'm not going to give you up," replied the girl.  "I'm going
to keep you prisoner until Stefan returns--he will know best
what to do with you.  Now you must come with me and be
locked up.  Do not try to escape--I have a revolver in my
hand," and to give her prisoner physical proof of the weapon
he could not see she thrust the muzzle against his side.

"I'll take your word for the gun," said Barney, "if you'll
just turn it in the other direction.  Go ahead--I'll follow you."

"No, you won't," replied the girl.  "You'll go first; but
before that you'll raise your hands above your head.  I want
to search you."

Barney did as he was bid and a moment later felt deft
fingers running over his clothing in search of concealed
weapons.  Satisfied at last that he was unarmed, the girl
directed him to precede her, guiding his steps from behind
with a hand upon his arm.  Occasionally he felt the muzzle
of her revolver touch his body.  It was a most unpleasant
sensation.

They crossed the room to a door which his captor directed
him to open, and after they had passed through and she had
closed it behind them the girl struck a match and lit a candle
which stood upon a little bracket on the partition wall.  The
dim light of the tallow dip showed Barney that he was in a
narrow hall from which several doors opened into different
rooms.  At one end of the hall a stairway led to the floor
below, while at the opposite end another flight disappeared
into the darkness above.

"This way," said the girl, motioning toward the stairs
that led upward.

Barney had turned toward her as she struck the match,
obtaining an excellent view of her features.  They were clear-
cut and regular.  Her eyes were large and very dark.  Dark
also was her hair, which was piled in great heaps upon her
finely shaped head.  Altogether the face was one not easily
to be forgotten.  Barney could scarce have told whether the
girl was beautiful or not, but that she was striking there
could be no doubt.

He preceded her up the stairway to a door at the top.  At
her direction he turned the knob and entered a small room
in which was a cot, an ancient dresser and a single chair.

"You will remain here," she said, "until Stefan returns.
Stefan will know what to do with you."  Then she left him,
taking the light with her, and Barney heard a key turn in
the lock of the door after she had closed it.  Presently her
footfalls died out as she descended to the lower floors.

"Anyhow," thought the American, "this is better than the
Austrians.  I don't know what Stefan will do with me, but I
have a rather vivid idea of what the Austrians would have
done to me if they'd caught me sneaking through the alleys
of Burgova at midnight."

Throwing himself on the cot Barney was soon asleep, for
though his predicament was one that, under ordinary cir-
cumstances might have made sleep impossible, yet he had
so long been without the boon of slumber that tired nature
would no longer be denied.

When he awoke it was broad daylight.  The sun was
pouring in through a skylight in the ceiling of his tiny
chamber.  Aside from this there were no windows in the
room.  The sound of voices came to him with an uncanny
distinctness that made it seem that the speakers must be in
this very chamber, but a glance about the blank walls con-
vinced him that he was alone.

Presently he espied a small opening in the wall at the
head of his cot.  He rose and examined it.  The voices ap-
peared to be coming from it.  In fact, they were.  The opening
was at the top of a narrow shaft that seemed to lead to
the basement of the structure--apparently once the shaft of
a dumb-waiter or a chute for refuse or soiled clothes.

Barney put his ear close to it.  The voices that came from
below were those of a man and a woman.  He heard every
word distinctly.

"We must search the house, fraulein," came in the deep
voice of a man.

"Whom do you seek?" inquired a woman's voice.  Barney
recognized it as the voice of his captor.

"A Serbian spy, Stefan Drontoff," replied the man.  "Do
you know him?"

There was a considerable pause on the girl's part before
she answered, and then her reply was in such a low voice
that Barney could barely hear it.

"I do not know him," she said.  "There are several men
who lodge here.  What may this Stefan Drontoff look like?"

"I have never seen him," replied the officer; "but by ar-
resting all the men in the house we must get this Stefan
also, if he is here."

"Oh!" cried the girl, a new note in her voice, "I guess I
know now whom you mean.  There is one man here I have
heard them call Stefan, though for the moment I had for-
gotten it.  He is in the small attic-room at the head of the
stairs.  Here is a key that will fit the lock.  Yes, I am sure
that he is Stefan.  You will find him there, and it should be
easy to take him, for I know that he is unarmed.  He told
me so last night when he came in."

"The devil!" muttered Barney Custer; but whether he
referred to his predicament or to the girl it would be im-
possible to tell.  Already the sound of heavy boots on the
stairs announced the coming of men--several of them.  Bar-
ney heard the rattle of accouterments--the clank of a scab-
bard--the scraping of gun butts against the walls.  The
Austrians were coming!

He looked about.  There was no way of escape except the
door and the skylight, and the door was impossible.

Quickly he tilted the cot against the door, wedging its
legs against a crack in the floor--that would stop them for a
minute or two.  then he wheeled the dresser beneath the sky-
light and, placing the chair on top of it, scrambled to the
seat of the latter.  His head was at the height of the sky-
light.  to force the skylight from its frame required but a
moment.  A key entered the lock of the door from the op-
posite side and turned.  He knew that someone without was
pushing.  Then he heard an oath and heavy battering upon
the panels.  A moment later he had drawn himself through
the skylight and stood upon the roof of the building.  Be-
fore him stretched a series of uneven roofs to the end of
the street.  Barney did not hesitate.  He started on a rapid trot
toward the adjoining roof.  From that he clambered to a
higher one beyond.

On he went, now leaping narrow courts, now dropping
to low sheds and again clambering to the heights of the
higher buildings, until he had come almost to the end of the
row.  Suddenly, behind him he heard a hoarse shout, fol-
lowed by the report of a rifle.  With a whir, a bullet flew
a few inches above his head.  He had gained the last roof--
a large, level roof--and at the shot he turned to see how
near to him were his pursuers.

Fatal turn!

Scarce had he taken his eyes from the path ahead than
his foot fell upon a glass skylight, and with a loud crash he
plunged through amid a shower of broken glass.

His fall was a short one.  Directly beneath the skylight
was a bed, and on the bed a fat Austrian infantry captain.
Barney lit upon the pit of the captain's stomach.  With a
howl of pain the officer catapulted Barney to the floor.  There
were three other beds in the room, and in each bed one or
two other officers.  Before the American could regain his
feet they were all sitting on him--all except the infantry
captain.  He lay shrieking and cursing in a painful attempt
to regain his breath, every atom of which Barney had
knocked out of him.

The officers sitting on Barney alternately beat him and
questioned him, interspersing their interrogations with lurid
profanity.

"If you will get off of me," at last shouted the American,
"I shall be glad to explain--and apologize."

They let him up, scowling ferociously.  He had promised
to explain, but now that he was confronted by the immedi-
ate necessity of an explanation that would prove at all satis-
factory as to how he happened to be wandering around the
rooftops of Burgova, he discovered that his powers of in-
vention were entirely inadequate.  The need for explaining,
however, was suddenly removed.  A shadow fell upon them
from above, and as they glanced up Barney saw the figure
of an officer surrounded by several soldiers looking down
upon him.

"Ah, you have him!" cried the new-comer in evident satis-
faction.  "It is well.  Hold him until we descend."

A moment later he and his escort had dropped through
the broken skylight to the floor beside them.

"Who is the mad man?" cried the captain who had broken
Barney's fall.  "The assassin!  He tried to murder me."

"I cannot doubt it," replied the officer who had just de-
scended, "for the fellow is no other than Stefan Drontoff,
the famous Serbian spy!"

"Himmel! ejaculated the officers in chorus.  "You have
done a good days' work, lieutenant."

"The firing squad will do a better work in a few minutes,"
replied the lieutenant, with a grim pointedness that took
Barney's breath away.




III

BEFORE THE FIRING SQUAD

THEY MARCHED Barney before the staff where he urged his
American nationality, pointing to his credentials and passes
in support of his contention.

The general before whom he had been brought shrugged
his shoulders.  "They are all Americans as soon as they are
caught," he said; "but why did you not claim to be Prince
Peter of Blentz?  You have his passes as well.  How can you
expect us to believe your story when you have in your pos-
session passes for different men?

"We have every respect for our friends the Americans.  I
would even stretch a point rather than chance harming an
American; but you will admit that the evidence is all against
you.  You were found in the very building where Drontoff
was known to stay while in Burgova.  The young woman
whose mother keeps the place directed our officer to your
room, and you tried to escape, which I do not think that
an innocent American would have done.

"However, as I have said, I will go to almost any length
rather than chance a mistake in the case of one who from
his appearance might pass more readily for an American
than a Serbian.  I have sent for Prince Peter of Blentz.  If
you can satisfactorily explain to him how you chance to be
in possession of military passes bearing his name I shall be
very glad to give you the benefit of every other doubt."

Peter of Blentz.  Send for Peter of Blentz!  Barney won-
dered just what kind of a sensation it was to stand facing a
firing squad.  He hoped that his knees wouldn't tremble--
they felt a trifle weak even now.  There was a chance that
the man might not recall his face, but a very slight chance.
It had been his remarkable likeness to Leopold of Lutha
that had resulted in the snatching of a crown from Prince
Peter's head.

Likely indeed that he would ever forget his, Barney's,
face, though he had seen it but once without the red beard
that had so added to Barney's likeness to the king.  But
Maenck would be along, of course, and Maenck would have
no doubts--he had seen Barney too recently in Beatrice to
fail to recognize him now.

Several men were entering the room where Barney stood
before the general and his staff.  A glance revealed to the
prisoner that Peter of Blentz had come, and with him Von
Coblich and Maenck.  At the same instant Peter's eyes met
Barney's, and the former, white and wide-eyed came al-
most to a dead halt, grasping hurriedly at the arm of Maenck
who walked beside him.

"My God!" was all that Barney heard him say, but he
spoke a name that the American did not hear.  Maenck also
looked his surprise, but his expression was suddenly changed
to one of malevolent cunning and gratification.  He turned
toward Prince Peter with a few low-whispered words.  A look
of relief crossed the face of the Blentz prince.

"You appear to know the gentleman," said the general
who had been conducting Barney's examination.  "He has
been arrested as a Serbian spy, and military passes in your
name were found upon his person together with the papers
of an American newspaper correspondent, which he claims
to be.  He is charged with being Stefan Drontoff, whom we
long have been anxious to apprehend.  Do you chance to
know anything about him, Prince Peter?"

"Yes," replied Peter of Blentz, "I know him well by sight.
He entered my room last night and stole the military passes
from my coat--we all saw him and pursued him, but he
got away in the dark.  There can be no doubt but that he
is the Serbian spy."

"He insists that he is Bernard Custer, an American," urged
the general, who, it seemed to Barney, was anxious to make
no mistake, and to give the prisoner every reasonable chance
--a state of mind that rather surprised him in a European
military chieftain, all of whom appeared to share the popu-
lar obsession regarding the prevalence of spies.

"Pardon me, general," interrupted Maenck.  "I am well
acquainted with Mr. Custer, who spent some time in Lutha
a couple of years ago.  This man is not he."

"That is sufficient, gentlemen, I thank you," said the gen-
eral.  He did not again look at the prisoner, but turned to a
lieutenant who stood near-by.  "You may remove the pris-
oner," he directed.  "He will be destroyed with the others--
here is the order," and he handed the subaltern a printed
form upon which many names were filled in and at the bot-
tom of which the general had just signed his own.  It had
evidently been waiting the outcome of the examination of
Stefan Drontoff.

Surrounded by soldiers, Barney Custer walked from the
presence of the military court.  It was to him as though he
moved in a strange world of dreams.  He saw the look of
satisfaction upon the face of Peter of Blentz as he passed
him, and the open sneer of Maenck.  As yet he did not
fully realize what it all meant--that he was marching to
his death!  For the last time he was looking upon the faces
of his fellow men; for the last time he had seen the sun
rise, never again to see it set.

He was to be "destroyed."  He had heard that expression
used many times in connection with useless horses, or vicious
dogs.  Mechanically he drew a cigarette from his pocket and
lighted it.  There was no bravado in the act.  On the contrary
it was done almost unconsciously.  The soldiers marched him
through the streets of Burgova.  The men were entirely im-
passive--even so early in the war they had become accus-
tomed to this grim duty.  The young officer who commanded
them was more nervous than the prisoner--it was his first
detail with a firing squad.  He looked wonderingly at Bar-
ney, expecting momentarily to see the man collapse, or at
least show some sign of terror at his close impending fate;
but the American walked silently toward his death, puffing
leisurely at his cigarette.

At last, after what seemed a long time, his guard turned
in at a large gateway in a brick wall surrounding a factory.
As they entered Barney saw twenty or thirty men in civilian
dress, guarded by a dozen infantrymen.  They were stand-
ing before the wall of a low brick building.  Barney noticed
that there were no windows in the wall.  It suddenly oc-
curred to him that there was something peculiarly grim
and sinister in the appearance of the dead, blank surface
of weather-stained brick.  For the first time since he had
faced the military court he awakened to a full realization of
what it all meant to him--he was going to be lined up
against that ominous brick wall with these other men--
they were going to shoot them.

A momentary madness seized him.  He looked about upon
the other prisoners and guards.  A sudden break for liberty
might give him temporary respite.  He could seize a rifle
from the nearest soldier, and at least have the satisfaction of
selling his life dearly.  As he looked he saw more soldiers
entering the factory yard.

A sudden apathy overwhelmed him.  What was the use?
He could not escape.  Why should he wish to kill these
soldiers?  It was not they who were responsible for his plight
--they were but obeying orders.  The close presence of death
made life seem very desirable.  These men, too, desired life.
Why should he take it from them uselessly.  At best he
might kill one or two, but in the end he would be killed as
surely as though he took his place before the brick wall
with the others.

He noticed now that these others evinced no inclination
to contest their fates.  Why should he, then?  Doubtless
many of them were as innocent as he, and all loved life as
well.  He saw that several were weeping silently.  Others
stood with bowed heads gazing at the hard-packed earth of
the factory yard.  Ah, what visions were their eyes beholding
for the last time!  What memories of happy firesides!  What
dear, loved faces were limned upon that sordid clay!

His reveries were interrupted by the hoarse voice of a
sergeant, breaking rudely in upon the silence and the dumb
terror.  The fellow was herding the prisoners into position.
When he was done Barney found himself in the front rank
of the little, hopeless band.  Opposite them, at a few paces,
stood the firing squad, their gun butts resting upon the
ground.

The young lieutenant stood at one side.  He issued some
instructions in a low tone, then he raised his voice.

"Ready!" he commanded.  Fascinated by the horror of it,
Barney watched the rifles raised smartly to the soldiers'
hips--the movement was as precise as though the men were
upon parade.  Every bolt clicked in unison with its fellows.

"Aim!"  the pieces leaped to the hollows of the men's
shoulders.  The leveled barrels were upon a line with the
breasts of the condemned.  A man at Barney's right moaned.
Another sobbed.

"Fire!"  There was the hideous roar of the volley.  Barney
Custer crumpled forward to the ground, and three bodies
fell upon his.  A moment later there was a second volley--
all had not fallen at the first.  Then the soldiers came among
the bodies, searching for signs of life; but evidently the two
volleys had done their work.  The sergeant formed his men
in line.  The lieutenant marched them away.  Only silence
remained on guard above the pitiful dead in the factory
yard.

The day wore on and still the stiffening corpses lay where
they had fallen.  Twilight came and then darkness.  A head
appeared above the top of the wall that had enclosed the
grounds.  Eyes peered through the night and keen ears lis-
tened for any sign of life within.  At last, evidently satisfied
that the place was deserted, a man crawled over the summit
of the wall and dropped to the ground within.  Here again
he paused, peering and listening.

What strange business had he here among the dead that
demanded such caution in its pursuit?  Presently he ad-
vanced toward the pile of corpses.  Quickly he tore open
coats and searched pockets.  He ran his fingers along the
fingers of the dead.  Two rings had rewarded his search
and he was busy with a third that encircled the finger of a
body that lay beneath three others.  It would not come off.
He pulled and tugged, and then he drew a knife from his
pocket.

But he did not sever the digit.  Instead he shrank back
with a muffled scream of terror.  The corpse that he would
have mutilated had staggered suddenly to its feet, flinging
the dead bodies to one side as it rose.

"You fiend!" broke from the lips of the dead man, and
the ghoul turned and fled, gibbering in his fright.

The tramp of soldiers in the street beyond ceased sud-
denly at the sound from within the factory yard.  It was a
detail of the guard marching to the relief of sentries.  A
moment later the gates swung open and a score of soldiers
entered.  They saw a figure dodging toward the wall a
dozen paces from them, but they did not see the other that
ran swiftly around the corner of the factory.

This other was Barney Custer of Beatrice.  When the com-
mand to fire had been given to the squad of riflemen, a
single bullet had creased the top of his head, stunning him.
All day he had lain there unconscious.  It had been the
tugging of the ghoul at his ring that had roused him to life
at last.

Behind him, as he scurried around the end of the factory
building, he heard the scattering fire of half a dozen rifles,
followed by a scream--the fleeing hyena had been hit.  Bar-
ney crouched in the shadow of a pile of junk.  He heard the
voices of soldiers as they gathered about the wounded
man, questioning him, and a moment later the imperious
tones of an officer issuing instructions to his men to search
the yard.  That he must be discovered seemed a certainty
to the American.  He crouched further back in the shadows
close to the wall, stepping with the utmost caution.

Presently to his chagrin his foot touched the metal cover of
a manhole; there was a resultant rattling that smote upon
Barney's ears and nerves with all the hideous clatter of a
boiler shop.  He halted, petrified, for an instant.  He was no
coward, but after being so near death, life had never looked
more inviting, and he knew that to be discovered meant
certain extinction this time.

The soldiers were circling the building.  Already he could
hear them nearing his position.  In another moment they
would round the corner of the building and be upon him.
For an instant he contemplated a bold rush for the fence.  In
fact, he had gathered himself for the leaping start and the
quick sprint across the open under the noses of the soldiers
who still remained beside the dying ghoul, when his mind
suddenly reverted to the manhole beneath his feet.  Here
lay a hiding place, at least until the soldiers had departed.

Barney stooped and raised the heavy lid, sliding it to one
side.  How deep was the black chasm beneath he could not
even guess.  Doubtless it led into a coal bunker, or it might
open over a pit of great depth.  There was no way to dis-
cover other than to plumb the abyss with his body.  Above
was death--below, a chance of safety.

The soldiers were quite close when Barney lowered him-
self through the manhole.  Clinging with his fingers to the
upper edge his feet still swung in space.  How far beneath
was the bottom?  He heard the scraping of the heavy shoes
of the searchers close above him, and then he closed his
eyes, released the grasp of his fingers, and dropped.




IV

A RACE TO LUTHA

BARNEY'S FALL was not more than four or five feet.  He
found himself upon a slippery floor of masonry over which
two or three inches of water ran sluggishly.  Above him he
heard the soldiers pass the open manhole.  It was evident
that in the darkness they had missed it.

For a few minutes the fugitive remained motionless, then,
hearing no sounds from above he started to grope about his
retreat.  Upon two sides were blank, circular walls, upon the
other two circular openings about four feet in diameter.  It
was through these openings that the tiny stream of water
trickled.

Barney came to the conclusion that he had dropped into
a sewer.  To get out the way he had entered appeared im-
possible.  He could not leap upward from the slimy, concave
bottom the distance he had dropped.  To follow the sewer
upward would lead him nowhere nearer escape.  There
remained no hope but to follow the trickling stream down-
ward toward the river, into which his judgment told him
the entire sewer system of the city must lead.

Stooping, he entered the ill-smelling circular conduit, grop-
ing his way slowly along.  As he went the water deepened.
It was half way to his knees when he plunged unexpectedly
into another tube running at right angles to the first.  The
bottom of this tube was lower than that of the one which
emptied into it, so that Barney now found himself in a
swiftly running stream of filth that reached above his knees.
Downward he followed this flood--faster now for the fear
of the deadly gases which might overpower him before he
could reach the river.

The water deepened gradually as he went on.  At last he
reached a point where, with his head scraping against the
roof of the sewer, his chin was just above the surface of
the stream.  A few more steps would be all that he could take
in this direction without drowning.  Could he retrace his way
against the swift current?  He did not know.  He was weak-
ened from the effects of his wound, from lack of food and
from the exertions of the past hour.  Well, he would go on
as far as he could.  The river lay ahead of him somewhere.
Behind was only the hostile city.

He took another step.  His foot found no support.  He
surged backward in an attempt to regain his footing, but the
power of the flood was too much for him.  He was swept
forward to plunge into water that surged above his head
as he sank.  An instant later he had regained the surface
and as his head emerged he opened his eyes.

He looked up into a starlit heaven!  He had reached the
mouth of the sewer and was in the river.  For a moment he
lay still, floating upon his back to rest.  Above him he heard
the tread of a sentry along the river front, and the sound of
men's voices.

The sweet, fresh air, the star-shot void above, acted as a
powerful tonic to his shattered hopes and overwrought
nerves.  He lay inhaling great lungsful of pure, invigorating
air.  He listened to the voices of the Austrian soldiery above
him.  All the buoyancy of his inherent Americanism returned
to him.

"This is no place for a minister's son," he murmured, and
turning over struck out for the opposite shore.  The river
was not wide, and Barney was soon nearing the bank along
which he could see occasional camp fires.  Here, too, were
Austrians.  He dropped down-stream below these, and at last
approached the shore where a wood grew close to the
water's edge.  The bank here was steep, and the American
had some difficulty in finding a place where he could clamber
up the precipitous wall of rock.  But finally he was success-
ful, finding himself in a little clump of bushes on the
river's brim.  Here he lay resting and listening--always lis-
tening.  It seemed to Barney that his ears ached with the
constant strain of unflagging duty that his very existence
demanded of them.

Hearing nothing, he crawled at last from his hiding place
with the purpose of making his way toward the south and
to the frontier as rapidly as possible.  He could hope only to
travel by night, and he guessed that this night must be
nearly spent.  Stooping, he moved cautiously away from the
river.  Through the shadows of the wood he made his way
for perhaps a hundred yards when he was suddenly con-
fronted by a figure that stepped from behind the bole of a
tree.

"Halt!  Who goes there?" came the challenge.

Barney's heart stood still.  With all his care he had run
straight into the arms of an Austrian sentry.  To run would
be to be shot.  To advance would mean capture, and that
too would mean death.

For the barest fraction of an instant he hesitated, and
then his quick American wits came to his aid.  Feigning
intoxication he answered the challenge in dubious Austrian
that he hoped his maudlin tongue would excuse.

"Friend," he answered thickly.  "Friend with a drink--
have one?"  And he staggered drunkenly forward, banking
all upon the credulity and thirst of the soldier who con-
fronted him with fixed bayonet.

That the sentry was both credulous and thirsty was evi-
denced by the fact that he let Barney come within reach of
his gun.  Instantly the drunken Austrian was transformed into
a very sober and active engine of destruction.  Seizing the
barrel of the piece Barney jerked it to one side and toward
him, and at the same instant he leaped for the throat of the
sentry.

So quickly was this accomplished that the Austrian had
time only for a single cry, and that was choked in his wind-
pipe by the steel fingers of the American.  Together both men
fell heavily to the ground, Barney retaining his hold upon
the other's throat.

Striking and clutching at one another they fought in
silence for a couple of minutes, then the soldier's struggles
began to weaken.  He squirmed and gasped for breath.  His
mouth opened and his tongue protruded.  His eyes started
from their sockets.  Barney closed his fingers more tightly
upon the bearded throat.  He rained heavy blows upon the
upturned face.  The beating fists of his adversary waved
wildly now--the blows that reached Barney were pitifully
weak.  Presently they ceased.  The man struggled violently
for an instant, twitched spasmodically and lay still.

Barney clung to him for several minutes longer, until
there was not the slightest indication of remaining life.  The
perpetration of the deed sickened him; but he knew that
his act was warranted, for it had been either his life or the
other's.  He dragged the body back to the bushes in which
he had been hiding.  There he stripped off the Austrian
uniform, put his own clothes upon the corpse and rolled it
into the river.

Dressed as an Austrian private, Barney Custer shouldered
the dead soldier's gun and walked boldly through the wood
to the south.  Momentarily he expected to run upon other
soldiers, but though he kept straight on his way for hours
he encountered none.  The thin line of sentries along the
river had been posted only to double the preventive measures
that had been taken to keep Serbian spies either from enter-
ing or leaving the city.

Toward dawn, at the darkest period of the night, Barney
saw lights ahead of him.  Apparently he was approaching a
village.  He went more cautiously now, but all his care did
not prevent him from running for the second time that night
almost into the arms of a sentry.  This time, however, Barney
saw the soldier before he himself was discovered.  It was
upon the edge of the town, in an orchard, that the sentinel
was posted.  Barney, approaching through the trees, darting
from one to another, was within a few paces of the man be-
fore he saw him.

The American remained quietly in the shadow of a tree
waiting for an opportunity to escape, but before it came he
heard the approach of a small body of troops.  They were
coming from the village directly toward the orchard.  They
passed the sentry and marched within a dozen feet of the
tree behind which Barney was hiding.

As they came opposite him he slipped around the tree to
the opposite side.  The sentry had resumed his pacing, and
was now out of sight momentarily among the trees further
on.  He could not see the American, but there were others
who could.  They came in the shape of a non-commissioned
officer and a detachment of the guard to relieve the sentry.
Barney almost bumped into them as he rounded the tree.
There was no escape--the non-commissioned officer was
within two feet of him when Barney discovered him.  "What
are you doing here?" shouted the sergeant with an oath.
"Your post is there," and he pointed toward the position
where Barney had seen the sentry.

At first Barney could scarce believe his ears.  In the dark-
ness the sergeant had mistaken him for the sentinel!  Could
he carry it out?  And if so might it not lead him into worse
predicament?  No, Barney decided, nothing could be worse.
To be caught masquerading in the uniform of an Austrian
soldier within the Austrian lines was to plumb the utter-
most depth of guilt--nothing that he might do now could
make his position worse.

He faced the sergeant, snapping his piece to present, hop-
ing that this was the proper thing to do.  Then he stumbled
through a brief excuse.  The officer in command of the troops
that had just passed had demanded the way of him, and
he had but stepped a few paces from his post to point out
the road to his superior.

The sergeant grunted and ordered him to fall in.  Another
man took his place on duty.  They were far from the enemy
and discipline was lax, so the thing was accomplished which
under other circumstances would have been well night im-
possible.  A moment later Barney found himself marching
back toward the village, to all intents and purposes an Aus-
trian private.

Before a low, windowless shed that had been converted
into barracks for the guard, the detail was dismissed.  The
men broke ranks and sought their blankets within the shed,
tired from their lonely vigil upon sentry duty.

Barney loitered until the last.  All the others had entered.
He dared not, for he knew that any moment the sentry
upon the post from which he had been taken would appear
upon the scene, after discovering another of his comrades.
He was certain to inquire of the sergeant.  They would be
puzzled, of course, and, being soldiers, they would be
suspicious.  There would be an investigation, which would
start in the barracks of the guard.  That neighborhood would
at once become a most unhealthy spot for Barney Custer,
of Beatrice, Nebraska.

When the last of the soldiers had entered the shed Bar-
ney glanced quickly about.  No one appeared to notice him.
He walked directly past the doorway to the end of the
building.  Around this he found a yard, deeply shadowed.
He entered it, crossed it, and passed out into an alley be-
yond.  At the first cross-street his way was blocked by the
sight of another sentry--the world seemed composed en-
tirely of Austrian sentries.  Barney wondered if the entire
Austrian army was kept perpetually upon sentry duty; he
had scarce been able to turn without bumping into one.

He turned back into the alley and at last found a crooked
passageway between buildings that he hoped might lead
him to a spot where there was no sentry, and from which he
could find his way out of the village toward the south.  The
passage, after devious windings, led into a large, open court,
but when Barney attempted to leave the court upon the
opposite side he found the ubiquitous sentries upon guard
there.

Evidently there would be no escape while the Austrians
remained in the town.  There was nothing to do, therefore,
but hide until the happy moment of their departure arrived.
He returned to the courtyard, and after a short search dis-
covered a shed in one corner that had evidently been used
to stable a horse, for there was straw at one end of it and a
stall in the other.  Barney sat down upon the straw to wait
developments.  Tired nature would be denied no longer.  His
eyes closed, his head drooped upon his breast.  In three
minutes from the time he entered the shed he was stretched
full length upon the straw, fast asleep.

The chugging of a motor awakened him.  It was broad
daylight.  Many sounds came from the courtyard without.
It did not take Barney long to gather his scattered wits--in
an instant he was wide awake.  He glanced about.  He was
the only occupant of the shed.  Rising, he approached a
small window that looked out upon the court.  All was life
and movement.  A dozen military cars either stood about or
moved in and out of the wide gates at the opposite end of
the enclosure.  Officers and soldiers moved briskly through a
doorway that led into a large building that flanked the court
upon one side.  While Barney slept the headquarters of an
Austrian army corps had moved in and taken possession of
the building, the back of which abutted upon the court
where lay his modest little shed.

Barney took it all in at a single glance, but his eyes hung
long and greedily upon the great, high-powered machines
that chugged or purred about him.

Gad!  If he could but be behind the wheel of such a car
for an hour!  The frontier could not be over fifty miles to
the south, of that he was quite positive; and what would
fifty miles be to one of those machines?

Barney sighed as a great, gray-painted car whizzed into
the courtyard and pulled up before the doorway.  Two offi-
cers jumped out and ran up the steps.  The driver, a young
man in a uniform not unlike that which Barney wore, drew
the car around to the end of the courtyard close beside
Barney's shed.  Here he left it and entered the building into
which his passengers had gone.  By reaching through the
window Barney could have touched the fender of the ma-
chine.  A few seconds' start in that and it would take more
than an Austrian army corps to stop him this side of the
border.  Thus mused Barney, knowing already that the mad
scheme that had been born within his brain would be put
to action before he was many minutes older.

There were many soldiers on guard about the courtyard.
The greatest danger lay in arousing the suspicions of one
of these should he chance to see Barney emerge from the
shed and enter the car.

"The proper thing," thought Barney, "is to come from
the building into which everyone seems to pass, and the
only way to be seen coming out of it is to get into it; but
how the devil am I to get into it?"

The longer he thought the more convinced he became
that utter recklessness and boldness would be his only sal-
vation.  Briskly he walked from the shed out into the court-
yard beneath the eyes of the sentries, the officers, the sol-
diers, and the military drivers.  He moved straight among
them toward the doorway of the headquarters as though
bent upon important business--which, indeed, he was.  At
least it was quite the most important business to Barney
Custer that that young gentleman could recall having ven-
tured upon for some time.

No one paid the slightest attention to him.  He had left
his gun in the shed for he noticed that only the men on
guard carried them.  Without an instant's hesitation he ran
briskly up the short flight of steps and entered the head-
quarters building.  Inside was another sentry who barred his
way questioningly.  Evidently one must state one's business
to this person before going farther.  Barney, without any
loss of time or composure, stepped up to the guard.

"Has General Kampf passed in this morning?" he asked
blithely.  Barney had never heard of any "General Kampf,"
nor had the sentry, since there was no such person in the
Austrian army.  But he did know, however, that there were
altogether too many generals for any one soldier to know
the names of them all.

"I do not know the general by sight," replied the sentry.

Here was a pretty mess, indeed.  Doubtless the sergeant
would know a great deal more than would be good for
Barney Custer.  The young man looked toward the door
through which he had just entered.  His sole object in com-
ing into the spider's parlor had been to make it possible for
him to come out again in full view of all the guards and
officers and military chauffeurs, that their suspicions might
not be aroused when he put his contemplated coup to the
test.

He glanced toward the door.  Machines were whizzing in
and out of the courtyard.  Officers on foot were passing and
repassing.  The sentry in the hallway was on the point of
calling his sergeant.

"Ah!" cried Barney.  "There is the general now," and
without waiting to cast even a parting glance at the guard
he stepped quickly through the doorway and ran down
the steps into the courtyard.  Looking neither to right nor to
left, and with a convincing air of self-confidence and im-
portant business, he walked directly to the big, gray ma-
chine that stood beside the little shed at the end of the
courtyard.

To crank it and leap to the driver's seat required but a
moment.  The big car moved smoothly forward.  A turn of
the steering wheel brought it around headed toward the
wide gates.  Barney shifted to second speed, stepped on
the accelerator and the cut-out simultaneously, and with a
noise like the rattle of a machine gun, shot out of the court-
yard.

None who saw his departure could have guessed from
the manner of it that the young man at the wheel of the
gray car was stealing the machine or that his life depended
upon escape without detection.  It was the very boldness of
his act that crowned it with success.

Once in the street Barney turned toward the south.  Cars
were passing up and down in both directions, usually at
high speed.  Their numbers protected the fugitive.  Momen-
tarily he expected to be halted; but he passed out of the
village without mishap and reached a country road which,
except for a lane down its center along which automobiles
were moving, was blocked with troops marching southward.
Through this soldier-walled lane Barney drove for half an
hour.

From a great distance, toward the southeast, he could
hear the boom of cannon and the bursting of shells.  Presently
the road forked.  The troops were moving along the road on
the left toward the distant battle line.  Not a man or ma-
chine was turning into the right fork, the road toward the
south that Barney wished to take.

Could he successfully pass through the marching soldiers
at his right?  Among all those officers there surely would be
one who would question the purpose and destination of this
private soldier who drove alone in the direction of the near-
by frontier.

The moment had come when he must stake everything on
his ability to gain the open road beyond the plodding mass
of troops.  Diminishing the speed of the car Barney turned it
in toward the marching men at the same time sounding his
horn loudly.  An infantry captain, marching beside his com-
pany, was directly in front of the car.  He looked up at the
American.  Barney saluted and pointed toward the right-
hand fork.

The captain turned and shouted a command to his men.
Those who had not passed in front of the car halted.  Barney
shot through the little lane they had opened, which im-
mediately closed up behind him.  He was through!  He was
upon the open road!  Ahead, as far as he could see, there
was no sign of any living creature to bar his way, and the
frontier could not be more than twenty-five miles away.




V

THE TRAITOR KING

IN HIS CASTLE at Lustadt, Leopold of Lutha paced nerv-
ously back and forth between his great desk and the window
that overlooked the royal gardens.  Upon the opposite side
of the desk stood an old man--a tall, straight, old man with
the bearing of a soldier and the head of a lion.  His keen,
gray eyes were upon the king, and sorrow was written
upon his face.  He was Ludwig von der Tann, chancellor
of the kingdom of Lutha.

At last the king stopped his pacing and faced the old man,
though he could not meet those eagle eyes squarely, try as
he would.  It was his inability to do so, possibly, that added
to his anger.  Weak himself, he feared this strong man and
envied him his strength, which, in a weak nature, is but
a step from hatred.  There evidently had been a long pause
in their conversation, yet the king's next words took up the
thread of their argument where it had broken.

"You speak as though I had no right to do it," he snapped.
"One might think that you were the king from the manner
with which you upbraid and reproach me.  I tell you, Prince
von der Tann, that I shall stand it no longer."

The king approached the desk and pounded heavily upon
its polished surface with his fist.  The physical act of vio-
lence imparted to him a certain substitute for the moral
courage which he lacked.

"I will tell you, sir, that I am king.  It was not necessary
that I consult you or any other man before pardoning Prince
Peter and his associates.  I have investigated the matter
thoroughly and I am convinced that they have been taught
a sufficient lesson and that hereafter they will be my most
loyal subjects."

He hesitated.  "Their presence here," he added, "may
prove an antidote to the ambitions of others who lately have
taken it upon themselves to rule Lutha for me."

There was no mistaking the king's meaning, but Prince
Ludwig did not show by any change of expression that the
shot had struck him in a vulnerable spot; nor, upon the other
hand, did he ignore the insinuation.  There was only sorrow
in his voice when he replied.

"Sire," he said, "for some time I have been aware of the
activity of those who would like to see Peter of Blentz re-
turned to favor with your majesty.  I have warned you, only
to see that my motives were always misconstrued.  There is a
greater power at work, your majesty, than any of us--
greater than Lutha itself.  One that will stop at nothing in
order to gain its ends.  It cares naught for Peter of Blentz,
naught for me, naught for you.  It cares only for Lutha.  For
strategic purposes it must have Lutha.  It will trample you
under foot to gain its end, and then it will cast Peter of
Blentz aside.  You have insinuated, sire, that I am ambitious.
I am.  I am ambitious to maintain the integrity and freedom
of Lutha.

"For three hundred years the Von der Tanns have labored
and fought for the welfare of Lutha.  It was a Von der Tann
that put the first Rubinroth king upon the throne of Lutha.
To the last they were loyal to the former dynasty while
that dynasty was loyal to Lutha.  Only when the king at-
tempted to sell the freedom of his people to a powerful
neighbor did the Von der Tanns rise against him.

"Sire! the Von der Tanns have always been loyal to the
house of Rubinroth.  And but a single thing rises superior
within their breasts to that loyalty, and that is their loyalty
to Lutha."  He paused for an instant before concluding.  "And
I, sire, am a Von der Tann."

There could be no mistaking the old man's meaning.  So
long as Leopold was loyal to his people and their interests
Ludwig von der Tann would be loyal to Leopold.  The king
was cowed.  He was very much afraid of this grim old war-
rior.  He chafed beneath his censure.

"You are always scolding me," he cried irritably.  "I am
getting tired of it.  And now you threaten me.  Do you call
that loyalty?  Do you call it loyalty to refuse to compel your
daughter to keep her plighted troth?  If you wish to prove
your loyalty command the Princess Emma to fulfil the prom-
ise you made my father--command her to wed me at once."

Von der Tann looked the king straight in the eyes.

"I cannot do that," he said.  "She has told me that she will
kill herself rather than wed with your majesty.  She is all I
have left, sire.  What good would be accomplished by rob-
bing me of her if you could not gain her by the act?  Win
her confidence and love, sire.  It may be done.  Thus only
may happiness result to you and to her."

"You see," exclaimed the king, "what your loyalty amounts
to!  I believe that you are saving her for the impostor--I
have heard as much hinted at before this.  Nor do I doubt
that she would gladly connive with the fellow if she thought
there was a chance of his seizing the throne."

Von der Tann paled.  For the first time righteous indigna-
tion and anger got the better of him.  He took a step toward
the king.

"Stop!" he commanded.  "No man, not even my king, may
speak such words to a Von der Tann."

In an antechamber just outside the room a man sat near
the door that led into the apartment where the king and his
chancellor quarreled.  He had been straining his ears to catch
the conversation which he could hear rising and falling in
the adjoining chamber, but till now he had been unsuccess-
ful.  Then came Prince Ludwig's last words booming loudly
through the paneled door, and the man smiled.  He was
Count Zellerndorf, the Austrian minister to Lutha.

The king's outraged majesty goaded him to an angry
retort.

"You forget yourself, Prince von der Tann," he cried.
"Leave our presence.  When we again desire to be insulted
we shall send for you."

As the chancellor passed into the antechamber Count
Zellerndorf rose and greeted him warmly, almost effusively.
Von der Tann returned his salutations with courtesy but
with no answering warmth.  Then he passed on out of the
palace.

"The old fox must have heard," he mused as he mounted
his horse and turned his face toward Tann and the Old
Forest.

When Count Zellerndorf of Austria entered the presence
of Leopold of Lutha he found that young ruler much dis-
turbed.  He had resumed his restless pacing between desk
and window, and as the Austrian entered he scarce paused
to receive his salutation.  Count Zellerndorf was a frequent
visitor at the
palace.  There were few formalities between
this astute diplomat and the young king; those had passed
gradually away as their acquaintance and friendship ripened.

"Prince Ludwig appeared angry when he passed through
the antechamber," ventured Zellerndorf.  "Evidently your
majesty found cause to rebuke him."

The king nodded and looked narrowly at the Austrian.
"The Prince von der Tann insinuated that Austria's only
wish in connection with Lutha is to seize her," he said.

Zellerndorf raised his hands in well-simulated horror.

"Your majesty!" he exclaimed.  "It cannot be that the prince
has gone to such lengths to turn you against your best
friend, my emperor.  If he has I can only attribute it to his
own ambitions.  I have hesitated to speak to you of this
matter, your majesty, but now that the honor of my own
ruler is questioned I must defend him.

"Bear with me then, should what I have to say wound
you.  I well know the confidence which the house of Von der
Tann has enjoyed for centuries in Lutha; but I must brave
your wrath in the interest of right.  I must tell you that it is
common gossip in Vienna that Von der Tann aspires to the
throne of Lutha either for himself or for his daughter
through the American impostor who once sat upon your
throne for a few days.  And let me tell you more.

"The American will never again menace you--he was
arrested in Burgova as a spy and executed.  He is dead; but
not so are Von der Tann's ambitions.  When he learns that he
no longer may rely upon the strain of the Rubinroth blood
that flowed in the veins of the American from his royal
mother, the runaway Princess Victoria, there will remain to
him only the other alternative of seizing the throne for him-
self.  He is a very ambitious man, your majesty.  Already he
has caused it to become current gossip that he is the real
power behind the throne of Lutha--that your majesty is
but a figure-head, the puppet of Von der Tann."

Zellerndorf paused.  He saw the flush of shame and anger
that suffused the king's face, and then he shot the bolt that
he had come to fire, but which he had not dared to hope
would find its target so denuded of defense.

"Your majesty," he whispered, coming quite close to the
king, "all Lutha is inclined to believe that you fear Prince
von der Tann.  Only a few of us know the truth to be the
contrary.  For the sake of your prestige you must take some
step to counteract this belief and stamp it out for good and
all.  I have planned a way--hear it.

"Von der Tann's hatred of Peter of Blentz is well known.
No man in Lutha believes that he would permit you to have
any intercourse with Peter.  I have brought from Blentz
an invitation to your majesty to honor the Blentz prince
with your presence as a guest for the ensuing week.  Accept
it, your majesty.

"Nothing could more conclusively prove to the most skep-
tical that you are still the king, and that Von der Tann, nor
any other, may not dare to dictate to you.  It will be the
most splendid stroke of statesmanship that you could achieve
at the present moment."

For an instant the king stood in thought.  He still feared
Peter of Blentz as the devil is reputed to fear holy water,
though for converse reasons.  Yet he was very angry with
Von der Tann.  It would indeed be an excellent way to
teach the presumptuous chancellor his place.

Leopold almost smiled as he thought of the chagrin with
which Prince Ludwig would receive the news that he had
gone to Blentz as the guest of Peter.  It was the last impetus
that was required by his weak, vindictive nature to press
it to a decision.

"Very well," he said, "I will go tomorrow."

It was late the following day that Prince von der Tann
received in his castle in the Old Forest word that an Austrian
army had crossed the Luthanian frontier--the neutrality of
Lutha had been violated.  The old chancellor set out im-
mediately for Lustadt.  At the palace he sought an interview
with the king only to learn that Leopold had departed
earlier in the day to visit Peter of Blentz.

There was but one thing to do and that was to follow the
king to Blentz.  Some action must be taken immediately--it
would never do to let this breach of treaty pass unnoticed.

The Serbian minister who had sent word to the chancellor
of the invasion by the Austrian troops was closeted with
him for an hour after his arrival at the palace.  It was clear
to both these men that the hand of Zellerndorf was plainly in
evidence in both the important moves that had occurred in
Lutha within the past twenty-four hours--the luring of the
king to Blentz and the entrance of Austrian soldiery into
Lutha.

Following his interview with the Serbian minister Von der
Tann rode toward Blentz with only his staff in attendance.
It was long past midnight when the lights of the town ap-
peared directly ahead of the little party.  They rode at a
trot along the road which passes through the village to wind
upward again toward the ancient feudal castle that looks
down from its hilltop upon the town.

At the edge of the village Von der Tann was thunder-
struck by a challenge from a sentry posted in the road, nor
was his dismay lessened when he discovered that the man
was an Austrian.

"What is the meaning of this?" he cried angrily.  "What
are Austrian soldiers doing barring the roads of Lutha to the
chancellor of Lutha?"

The sentry called an officer.  The latter was extremely
suave.  He regretted the incident, but his orders were most
positive--no one could be permitted to pass through the
lines without an order from the general commanding.  He
would go at once to the general and see if he could procure
the necessary order.  Would the prince be so good as to await
his return?  Von der Tann turned on the young officer, his
face purpling with rage.

"I will pass nowhere within the boundaries of Lutha," he
said, "upon the order of an Austrian.  You may tell your
general that my only regret is that I have not with me to-
night the necessary force to pass through his lines to my
king--another time I shall not be so handicapped," and Lud-
wig, Prince von der Tann, wheeled his mount and spurred
away in the direction of Lustadt, at his heels an extremely
angry and revengeful staff.




VI

A TRAP IS SPRUNG

LONG BEFORE Prince von der Tann reached Lustadt he had
come to the conclusion that Leopold was in virtue a prisoner
in Blentz.  To prove his conclusion he directed one of his
staff to return to Blentz and attempt to have audience with
the king.

"Risk anything," he instructed the officer to whom he had
entrusted the mission.  "Submit, if necessary, to the humilia-
tion of seeking an Austrian pass through the lines to the
castle.  See the king at any cost and deliver this message
to him and to him alone and secretly.  Tell him my fears,
and that if I do not have word from him within twenty-
four hours I shall assume that he is indeed a prisoner.

"I shall then direct the mobilization of the army and
take such steps as seem fit to rescue him and drive the in-
vaders from the soil of Lutha.  If you do not return I shall
understand that you are held prisoner by the Austrians and
that my worst fears have been realized."

But Prince Ludwig was one who believed in being fore-
handed and so it happened that the orders for the mobiliza-
tion of the army of Lutha were issued within fifteen minutes
of his return to Lustadt.  It would do no harm, thought the
old man, with a grim smile, to get things well under way a
day ahead of time.  This accomplished, he summoned the
Serbian minister, with what purpose and to what effect be-
came historically evident several days later.  When, after
twenty-four hours' absence, his aide had not returned from
Blentz, the chancellor had no regrets for his forehanded-
ness.

In the castle of Peter of Blentz the king of Lutha was be-
ing entertained royally.  He was told nothing of the attempt
of his chancellor to see him, nor did he know that a messen-
ger from Prince von der Tann was being held a prisoner
in the camp of the Austrians in the village.  He was sur-
rounded by the creatures of Prince Peter and by Peter's
staunch allies, the Austrian minister and the Austrian officers
attached to the expeditionary force occupying the town.
They told him that they had positive information that the
Serbians already had crossed the frontier into Lutha, and
that the presence of the Austrian troops was purely for the
protection of Lutha.

It was not until the morning following the rebuff of
Prince von der Tann that Peter of Blentz, Count Zellern-
dorf and Maenck heard of the occurrence.  They were cha-
grined by the accident, for they were not ready to deliver
their final stroke.  The young officer of the guard had, of
course, but followed his instructions--who would have thought
that old Von der Tann would come to Blentz!  That he
suspected their motives seemed apparent, and now that
his rebuff at the gates had aroused his ire and, doubtless,
crystallized his suspicions, they might find in him a very
ugly obstacle to the fruition of their plans.

With Von der Tann actively opposed to them, the value
of having the king upon their side would be greatly mini-
mized.  The people and the army had every confidence in
the old chancellor.  Even if he opposed the king there was
reason to believe that they might still side with him.

"What is to be done?" asked Zellerndorf.  "Is there no
way either to win or force Von der Tann to acquiescence?"

"I think we can accomplish it," said Prince Peter, after a
moment of thought.  "Let us see Leopold.  His mind has
been prepared to receive almost gratefully any insinuations
against the loyalty of Von der Tann.  With proper evidence
the king may easily be persuaded to order the chancellor's
arrest--possibly his execution as well."

So they saw the king, only to meet a stubborn refusal
upon the part of Leopold to accede to their suggestions.  He
still was madly in love with Von der Tann's daughter, and
he knew that a blow delivered at her father would only
tend to increase her bitterness toward him.  The conspirators
were nonplussed.

They had looked for a comparatively easy road to the
consummation of their desires.  What in the world could be
the cause of the king's stubborn desire to protect the man
they knew he feared, hated, and mistrusted with all the
energy of his suspicious nature?  It was the king himself
who answered their unspoken question.

"I cannot believe in the disloyalty of Prince Ludwig," he
said, "nor could I, even if I desired it, take such drastic
steps as you suggest.  Some day the Princess Emma, his
daughter, will be my queen."

Count Zellerndorf was the first to grasp the possibilities
that lay in the suggestion the king's words carried.

"Your majesty," he cried, "there is a way to unite all
factions in Lutha.  It would be better to insure the loyalty
of Von der Tann through bonds of kinship than to an-
tagonize him.  Marry the Princess Emma at once.

"Wait, your majesty," he added, as Leopold raised an ob-
jecting hand.  "I am well informed as to the strange obsti-
nacy of the princess, but for the welfare of the state--yes,
for the sake of your very throne, sire--you should exert
your royal prerogatives and command the Princess Emma to
carry out the terms of your betrothal."

"What do you mean, Zellerndorf?" asked the king.

"I mean, sire, that we should bring the princess here and
compel her to marry you."

Leopold shook his head.  "You do not know her," he said.
"You do not know the Von der Tann nature--one cannot
force a Von der Tann."

"Pardon, sire," urged Zellerndorf, "but I think it can be
accomplished.  If the Princess Emma knew that your majesty
believed her father to be a traitor--that the order for his
arrest and execution but awaited your signature--I doubt
not that she would gladly become queen of Lutha, with
her father's life and liberty as a wedding gift."

For several minutes no one spoke after Count Zellerndorf
had ceased.  Leopold sat looking at the toe of his boot.
Peter of Blentz, Maenck, and the Austrian watched him in-
tently.  The possibilities of the plan were sinking deep into
the minds of all four.  At last the king rose.  He was mum-
bling to himself as though unconscious of the presence of
the others.

"She is a stubborn jade," he mumbled.  "It would be an
excellent lesson for her.  She needs to be taught that I am
her king," and then as though his conscience required a
sop, "I shall be very good to her.  Afterward she will be
happy."  He turned toward Zellerndorf.  "You think it can
be done?"

"Most assuredly, your majesty.  We shall take immediate
steps to fetch the Princess Emma to Blentz," and the Aus-
trian rose and backed from the apartment lest the king
change his mind.  Prince Peter and Maenck followed him.


Princess Emma von der Tann sat in her boudoir in her
father's castle in the Old Forest.  Except for servants, she
was alone in the fortress, for Prince von der Tann was in
Lustadt.  Her mind was occupied with memories of the
young American who had entered her life under such strange
circumstances two years before--memories that had been
awakened by the return of Lieutenant Otto Butzow to Lutha.
He had come directly to her father and had been attached
to the prince's personal staff.

From him she had heard a great deal about Barney
Custer, and the old interest, never a moment forgotten dur-
ing these two years, was reawakened to all its former in-
tensity.

Butzow had accompanied Prince Ludwig to Lustadt, but
Princess Emma would not go with them.  For two years she
had not entered the capital, and much of that period had
been spent in Paris.  Only within the past fortnight had she
returned to Lutha.

In the middle of the morning her reveries were inter-
rupted by the entrance of a servant bearing a message.  She
had to read it twice before she could realize its purport;
though it was plainly worded--the shock of it had stunned
her.  It was dated at Lustadt and signed by one of the
palace functionaries:


Prince von der Tann has suffered a slight stroke.  Do
not be alarmed, but come at once.  The two troopers
who bear this message will act as your escort.


It required but a few minutes for the girl to change to
her riding clothes, and when she ran down into the court she
found her horse awaiting her in the hands of her groom,
while close by two mounted troopers raised their hands to
their helmets in salute.

A moment later the three clattered over the drawbridge
and along the road that leads toward Lustadt.  The escort
rode a short distance behind the girl, and they were hard
put to it to hold the mad pace which she set them.

A few miles from Tann the road forks.  One branch leads
toward the capital and the other winds over the hills in the
direction of Blentz.  The fork occurs within the boundaries
of the Old Forest.  Great trees overhang the winding road,
casting a twilight shade even at high noon.  It is a lonely
spot, far from any habitation.

As the Princess Emma approached the fork she reined in
her mount, for across the road to Lustadt a dozen horse-
men barred her way.  At first she thought nothing of it,
turning her horse's head to the righthand side of the road
to pass the party, all of whom were in uniform; but as she
did so one of the men reined directly in her path.  The act
was obviously intentional.

The girl looked quickly up into the man's face, and her
own went white.  He who stopped her way was Captain
Ernst Maenck.  She had not seen the man for two years, but
she had good cause to remember him as the governor of the
castle of Blentz and the man who had attempted to take
advantage of her helplessness when she had been a prisoner
in Prince Peter's fortress.  Now she looked straight into the
fellow's eyes.

"Let me pass, please," she said coldly.

"I am sorry," replied Maenck with an evil smile; "but the
king's orders are that you accompany me to Blentz--the
king is there."

For answer the girl drove her spur into her mount's side.
The animal leaped forward, striking Maenck's horse on the
shoulder and half turning him aside, but the man clutched
at the girl's bridle-rein, and, seizing it, brought her to a stop.

"You may as well come voluntarily, for come you must,"
he said.  "It will be easier for you."

"I shall not come voluntarily," she replied.  "If you take
me to Blentz you will have to take me by force, and if my
king is not sufficiently a gentleman to demand an account-
ing of you, I am at least more fortunate in the possession
of a father who will."

"Your father will scarce wish to question the acts of his
king," said Maenck--"his king and the husband of his
daughter."

"What do you mean?" she cried.

"That before you are many hours older, your highness,
you will be queen of Lutha."

The Princess Emma turned toward her tardy escort that
had just arrived upon the scene.

"This person has stopped me," she said, "and will not
permit me to continue toward Lustadt.  Make a way for me;
you are armed!"

Maenck smiled.  "Both of them are my men," he explained.

The girl saw it all now--the whole scheme to lure her
to Blentz.  Even then, though, she could not believe the king
had been one of the conspirators of the plot.

Weak as he was he was still a Rubinroth, and it was
difficult for a Von der Tann to believe in the duplicity of a
member of the house they had served so loyally for cen-
turies.  With bowed head the princess turned her horse into
the road that led toward Blentz.  Half the troopers pre-
ceded her, the balance following behind.

Maenck wondered at the promptness of her surrender.

"To be a queen--ah! that was the great temptation," he
thought but he did not know what was passing in the girl's
mind.  She had seen that escape for the moment was im-
possible, and so had decided to bide her time until a more
propitious chance should come.  In silence she rode among
her captors.  The thought of being brought to Blentz alive
was unbearable.

Somewhere along the road there would be an opportunity
to escape.  Her horse was fleet; with a short start he could
easily outdistance these heavier cavalry animals and as a
last resort she could--she must--find some way to end her
life, rather than to be dragged to the altar beside Leopold
of Lutha.

Since childhood Emma von der Tann had ridden these
hilly roads.  She knew every lane and bypath for miles
around.  She knew the short cuts, the gullies and ravines.
She knew where one might, with a good jumper, save a
wide detour, and as she rode toward Blentz she passed in
review through her mind each of the many spots where a
sudden break for liberty might have the best chance to
succeed.

And at last she hit upon the place where a quick turn
would take her from the main road into the roughest sort of
going for one not familiar with the trail.  Maenck and his
soldiers had already partially relaxed their vigilance.  The
officer had come to the conclusion that his prisoner was
resigned to her fate and that, after all, the fate of being
forced to be queen did not appear so dark to her.

They had wound up a wooded hill and were half way
up to the summit.  The princess was riding close to the right-
hand side of the road.  Quite suddenly, and before a hand
could be raised to stay her, she wheeled her mount between
two trees, struck home her spur, and was gone into the
wood upon the steep hillside.

With an oath, Maenck cried to his men to be after her.
He himself spurred into the forest at the point where the
girl had disappeared.  So sudden had been her break for
liberty and so quickly had the foliage swallowed her that
there was something almost uncanny in it.

A hundred yards from the road the trees were further
apart, and through them the pursuers caught a glimpse of
their quarry.  The girl was riding like mad along the rough,
uneven hillside.  Her mount, surefooted as a chamois, seemed
in his element.  But two of the horses of her pursuers were
as swift, and under the cruel spurs of their riders were clos-
ing up on their fugitive.  The girl urged her horse to greater
speed, yet still the two behind closed in.

A hundred yards ahead lay a deep and narrow gully,
hid by bushes that grew rankly along its verge.  Straight
toward this the Princess Emma von der Tann rode.  Behind
her came her pursuers--two quite close and the others trail-
ing farther in the rear.  The girl reined in a trifle, letting the
troopers that were closest to her gain until they were but a
few strides behind, then she put spur to her horse and drove
him at topmost speed straight toward the gully.  At the
bushes she spoke a low word in his backlaid ears, raised
him quickly with the bit, leaning forward as he rose in air.
Like a bird that animal took the bushes and the gully be-
yond, while close behind him crashed the two luckless
troopers.

Emma von der Tann cast a single backward glance over
her shoulder, as her horse regained his stride upon the op-
posite side of the gully, to see her two foremost pursuers
plunging headlong into it.  Then she shook free her reins
and gave her mount his head along a narrow trail that both
had followed many times before.

Behind her, Maenck and the balance of his men came to a
sudden stop at the edge of the gully.  Below them one of the
troopers was struggling to his feet.  The other lay very still
beneath his motionless horse.  With an angry oath Maenck
directed one of his men to remain and help the two who
had plunged over the brink, then with the others he rode
along the gully searching for a crossing.

Before they found one their captive was a mile ahead of
them, and, barring accident, quite beyond recapture.  She
was making for a highway that would lead her to Lustadt.
Ordinarily she had been wont to bear a little to the north-
east at this point and strike back into the road that she had
just left; but today she feared to do so lest she be cut off
before she gained the north and south highroad which the
other road crossed a little farther on.

To her right was a small farm across which she had never
ridden, for she always had made it a point never to trespass
upon fenced grounds.  On the opposite side of the farm was
a wood, and somewhere beyond that a small stream which
the highroad crossed upon a little bridge.  It was all new
country to her, but it must be ventured.

She took the fence at the edge of the clearing and then
reined in a moment to look behind her.  A mile away she
saw the head and shoulders of a horseman above some low
bushes--the pursuers had found a way through the gully.

Turning once more to her flight the girl rode rapidly
across the fields toward the wood.  Here she found a high
wire fence so close to thickly growing trees upon the opposite
side that she dared not attempt to jump it--there was no
point at which she would not have been raked from the
saddle by overhanging boughs.  Slipping to the ground she
attacked the barrier with her bare hands, attempting to
tear away the staples that held the wire in place.  For several
minutes she surged and tugged upon the unyielding metal
strand.  An occasional backward glance revealed to her hor-
rified eyes the rapid approach of her enemies.  One of them
was far in advance of the others--in another moment he
would be upon her.

With redoubled fury she turned again to the fence.  A
superhuman effort brought away a staple.  One wire was
down and an instant later two more.  Standing with one foot
upon the wires to keep them from tangling about her
horse's legs, she pulled her mount across into the wood.  The
foremost horseman was close upon her as she finally suc-
ceeded in urging the animal across the fallen wires.

The girl sprang to her horse's side just as the man reached
the fence.  The wires, released from her weight, sprang up
breast high against his horse.  He leaped from the saddle
the instant that the girl was swinging into her own.  Then
the fellow jumped the fence and caught her bridle.

She struck at him with her whip, lashing him across the
head and face, but he clung tightly, dragged hither and
thither by the frightened horse, until at last he managed to
reach the girl's arm and drag her to the ground.

Almost at the same instant a man, unkempt and dis-
heveled, sprang from behind a tree and with a single blow
stretched the trooper unconscious upon the ground.




VII

BARNEY TO THE RESCUE

AS BARNEY CUSTER raced along the Austrian highroad to-
ward the frontier and Lutha, his spirits rose to a pitch of
buoyancy to which they had been strangers for the past
several days.  For the first time in many hours it seemed
possible to Barney to entertain reasonable hopes of escape
from the extremely dangerous predicament into which he
had gotten himself.

He was even humming a gay little tune as he drove into
a tiny hamlet through which the road wound.  No sign of
military appeared to fill him with apprehension.  He was
very hungry and the odor of cooking fell gratefully upon his
nostrils.  He drew up before the single inn, and presently,
washed and brushed, was sitting before the first meal he
had seen for two days.  In the enjoyment of the food he
almost forgot the dangers he had passed through, or that
other dangers might be lying in wait for him at his elbow.

From the landlord he learned that the frontier lay but
three miles to the south of the hamlet.  Three miles!  Three
miles to Lutha!  What if there was a price upon his head in
that kingdom?  It was HER home.  It had been his mother's
birthplace.  He loved it.

Further, he must enter there and reach the ear of old
Prince von der Tann.  Once more he must save the king who
had shown such scant gratitude upon another occasion.

For Leopold, Barney Custer did not give the snap of his
fingers; but what Leopold, the king, stood for in the lives
and sentiments of the Luthanians--of the Von der Tanns--
was very dear to the American because it was dear to a
trim, young girl and to a rugged, leonine, old man, of both
of whom Barney was inordinately fond.  And possibly, too, it
was dear to him because of the royal blood his mother
had bequeathed him.

His meal disposed of to the last morsel, and paid for,
Barney entered the stolen car and resumed his journey
toward Lutha.  That he could remain there he knew to be
impossible, but in delivering his news to Prince Ludwig he
might have an opportunity to see the Princess Emma once
again--it would be worth risking his life for, of that he was
perfectly satisfied.  And then he could go across into Serbia
with the new credentials that he had no doubt Prince von
der Tann would furnish him for the asking to replace those
the Austrians had confiscated.

At the frontier Barney was halted by an Austrian customs
officer; but when the latter recognized the military car and
the Austrian uniform of the driver he waved him through
without comment.  Upon the other side the American ex-
pected possible difficulty with the Luthanian customs offi-
cer, but to his surprise he found the little building deserted,
and none to bar his way.  At last he was in Lutha--by noon
on the following day he should be at Tann.

To reach the Old Forest by the best roads it was neces-
sary to bear a little to the southeast, passing through Tafel-
berg and striking the north and south highway between that
point and Lustadt, to which he could hold until reaching
the east and west road that runs through both Tann and
Blentz on its way across the kingdom.

The temptation to stop for a few minutes in Tafelberg for
a visit with his old friend Herr Kramer was strong, but fear
that he might be recognized by others, who would not
guard his secret so well as the shopkeeper of Tafelberg
would, decided him to keep on his way.  So he flew through
the familiar main street of the quaint old village at a speed
that was little, if any less, than fifty miles an hour.

On he raced toward the south, his speed often necessarily
diminished upon the winding mountain roads, but for the
most part clinging to a reckless mileage that caused the
few natives he encountered to flee to the safety of the
bordering fields, there to stand in open-mouthed awe.

Halfway between Tafelberg and the crossroad into which
he purposed turning to the west toward Tann there is an
S-curve where the bases of two small hills meet.  The road
here is narrow and treacherous--fifteen miles an hour is al-
most a reckless speed at which to travel around the curves
of the S.  Beyond are open fields upon either side of the
road.

Barney took the turns carefully and had just emerged into
the last leg of the S when he saw, to his consternation, a
half-dozen Austrian infantrymen lolling beside the road.  An
officer stood near them talking with a sergeant.  To turn back
in that narrow road was impossible.  He could only go ahead
and trust to his uniform and the military car to carry him
safely through.  Before he reached the group of soldiers the
fields upon either hand came into view.  They were dotted
with tents, wagons, motor-vans and artillery.  What did it
mean?  What was this Austrian army doing in Lutha?

Already the officer had seen him.  This was doubtless an
outpost, however clumsily placed it might be for strategic
purposes.  To pass it was Barney's only hope.  He had passed
through one Austrian army--why not another?  He approached
the outpost at a moderate rate of speed--to tear toward it
at the rate his heart desired would be to awaken not sus-
picion only but positive conviction that his purposes and mo-
tives were ulterior.

The officer stepped toward the road as though to halt
him.  Barney pretended to be fussing with some refractory
piece of controlling mechanism beneath the cowl--appar-
ently he did not see the officer.  He was just opposite him
when the latter shouted to him.  Barney straightened up
quickly and saluted, but did not stop.

"Halt!" cried the officer.

Barney pointed down the road in the direction in which
he was headed.

"Halt!" repeated the officer, running to the car.

Barney glanced ahead.  Two hundred yards farther on
was another post--beyond that he saw no soldiers.  He
turned and shouted a volley of intentionally unintelligible
jargon at the officer, continuing to point ahead of him.

He hoped to confuse the man for the few seconds neces-
sary for him to reach the last post.  If the soldiers there saw
that he had been permitted to pass through the first they
doubtless would not hinder his further passage.  That they
were watching him Barney could see.

He had passed the officer now.  There was no necessity for
dalliance.  He pressed the accelerator down a trifle.  The car
moved forward at increased speed.  a final angry shout
broke from the officer behind him, followed by a quick
command.  Barney did not have to wait long to learn the
tenor of the order, for almost immediately a shot sounded
from behind and a bullet whirred above his head.  Another
shot and another followed.

Barney was pressing the accelerator downward to the
limit.  The car responded nobly--there was no sputtering,
no choking.  Just a rapid rush of increasing momentum as
the machine gained headway by leaps and bounds.

The bullets were ripping the air all about him.  Just ahead
the second outpost stood directly in the center of the road.
There were three soldiers and they were taking deliberate
aim, as carefully as though upon the rifle range.  It seemed
to Barney that they couldn't miss him.  He swerved the car
suddenly from one side of the road to the other.  At the
rate that it was going the move was fraught with but little
less danger than the supine facing of the leveled guns ahead.

The three rifles spoke almost simultaneously.  The glass of
the windshield shattered in Barney's face.  There was a hole
in the left-hand front fender that had not been there before.

"Rotten shooting," commented Barney Custer, of Beatrice.

The soldiers still stood in the center of the road firing at
the swaying car as, lurching from side to side, it bore down
upon them.  Barney sounded the raucous military horn; but
the soldiers seemed unconscious of their danger--they still
stood there pumping lead toward the onrushing Juggernaut.
At the last instant they attempted to rush from its path; but
they were too late.

At over sixty miles an hour the huge, gray monster bore
down upon them.  One of them fell beneath the wheels--the
two others were thrown high in air as the bumper struck
them.  The body of the man who had fallen beneath the
wheels threw the car half way across the road--only iron
nerve and strong arms held it from the ditch upon the op-
posite side.

Barney Custer had never been nearer death than at that
moment--not even when he faced the firing squad before
the factory wall in Burgova.  He had done that without a
tremor--he had heard the bullets of the outpost whistling
about his head a moment before, with a smile upon his lips--
he had faced the leveled rifles of the three he had ridden
down and he had not quailed.  But now, his machine in the
center of the road again, he shook like a leaf, still in the
grip of the sickening nausea of that awful moment when
the mighty, insensate monster beneath him had reeled
drunkenly in its mad flight, swerving toward the ditch and
destruction.

For a few minutes he held to his rapid pace before he
looked around, and then it was to see two cars climbing into
the road from the encampment in the field and heading to-
ward him in pursuit.  Barney grinned.  Once more he was
master of his nerves.  They'd have a merry chase, he thought,
and again he accelerated the speed of the car.  Once before
he had had it up to seventy-five miles, and for a moment,
when he had had no opportunity to even glance at the
speedometer, much higher.  Now he was to find the maxi-
mum limit of the possibilities of the brave car he had come
to look upon with real affection.

The road ahead was comparatively straight and level.  Be-
hind him came the enemy.  Barney watched the road rushing
rapidly out of sight beneath the gray fenders.  He glanced
occasionally at the speedometer.  Seventy-five miles an hour.
Seventy-seven!  "Going some," murmured Barney as he saw
the needle vibrate up to eighty.  Gradually he nursed her up
and up to greater speed.

Eighty-five!  The trees were racing by him in an indis-
tinct blur of green.  The fences were thin, wavering lines--
the road a white-gray ribbon, ironed by the terrific speed
to smooth unwrinkledness.  He could not take his eyes from
the business of steering to glance behind; but presently there
broke faintly through the whir of the wind beating against
his ears the faint report of a gun.  He was being fired upon
again.  He pressed down still further upon the accelerator.
The car answered to the pressure.  The needle rose steadily
until it reached ninety miles an hour--and topped it.

Then from somewhere in the radiator hose a hissing and a
spurt of steam.  Barney was dumbfounded.  He had filled the
cooling system at the inn where he had eaten.  It had been
working perfectly before and since.  What could have hap-
pened?  There could be but a single explanation.  A bullet
from the gun of one of the three men who had attempted
to stop him at the second outpost had penetrated the radia-
tor, and had slowly drained it.

Barney knew that the end was near, since the usefulness
of the car in furthering his escape was over.  At the speed
he was going it would be but a short time before the super-
heated pistons expanding in their cylinders would tear the
motor to pieces.  Barney felt that he would be lucky if he
himself were not killed when it happened.

He reduced his speed and glanced behind.  His pursuers
had not gained upon him, but they still were coming.  A
bend in the road shut them from his view.  A little way
ahead the road crossed over a river upon a wooden bridge.
On the opposite side and to the right of the road was a
wood.  It seemed to offer the most likely possibilities of con-
cealment in the vicinity.  If he could but throw his pursuers
off the trail for a while he might succeed in escaping
through the wood, eventually reaching Tann on foot.  He
had a rather hazy idea of the exact direction of the town
and castle, but that he could find them eventually he was
sure.

The sight of the river and the bridge he was nearing sug-
gested a plan, and the ominous grating of the overheated
motor warned him that whatever he was to do he must do
at once.  As he neared the bridge he reduced the speed of
the car to fifteen miles an hour, and set the hand throttle to
hold it there.  Still gripping the steering wheel with one
hand, he climbed over the left-hand door to the running
board.  As the front wheels of the car ran up onto the bridge
Barney gave the steering wheel a sudden turn to the right,
and jumped.

The car veered toward the wooden handrail, there was a
splintering of stanchions, as, with a crash, the big machine
plunged through them headforemost into the river.  Without
waiting to give even a glance at his handiwork Barney Cus-
ter ran across the bridge, leaped the fence upon the right-
hand side and plunged into the shelter of the wood.

Then he turned to look back up the road in the direction
from which his pursuers were coming.  They were not in
sight--they had not seen his ruse.  The water in the river
was of sufficient depth to completely cover the car--no sign
of it appeared above the surface.

Barney turned into the wood smiling.  His scheme had
worked well.  The occupants of the two cars following him
might not note the broken handrail, or, if they did, might
not connect it with Barney in any way.  In this event they
would continue in the direction of Lustadt, wondering what
in the world had become of their quarry.  Or, if they guessed
that his car had gone over into the river, they would doubt-
less believe that its driver had gone with it.  In either event
Barney would be given ample time to find his way to Tann.

He wished that he might find other clothes, since if he
were dressed otherwise there would be no reason to imagine
that his pursuers would recognize him should they come
upon him.  None of them could possibly have gained a suf-
ficiently good look at his features to recognize them again.

The Austrian uniform, however, would convict him, or at
least lay him under suspicion, and in Barney's present case,
suspicion was as good as conviction were he to fall into the
hands of the Austrians.  The garb had served its purpose
well in aiding in his escape from Austria, but now it was
more of a menace than an asset.

For a week Barney Custer wandered through the woods
and mountains of Lutha.  He did not dare approach or
question any human being.  Several times he had seen Aus-
trian cavalry that seemed to be scouring the country for
some purpose that the American could easily believe was
closely connected with himself.  At least he did not feel dis-
posed to stop them, as they cantered past his hiding place,
to inquire the nature of their business.

Such farmhouses as he came upon he gave a wide berth
except at night, and then he only approached them stealthily
for such provender as he might filch.  Before the week was
up he had become an expert chicken thief, being able to rob
a roost as quietly as the most finished carpetbagger on the
sunny side of Mason and Dixon's line.

A careless housewife, leaving her lord and master's rough
shirt and trousers hanging upon the line overnight, had
made possible for Barney the coveted change in raiment.
Now he was barged as a Luthanian peasant.  He was hat-
less, since the lady had failed to hang out her mate's
woolen cap, and Barney had not dared retain a single ves-
tige of the damning Austrian uniform.

What the peasant woman thought when she discovered
the empty line the following morning Barney could only
guess, but he was morally certain that her grief was more
than tempered by the gold piece he had wrapped in a bit
of cloth torn from the soldier's coat he had worn, which he
pinned on the line where the shirt and pants had been.

It was somewhere near noon upon the seventh day that
Barney skirting a little stream, followed through the con-
cealing shade of a forest toward the west.  In his peasant
dress he now felt safer to approach a farmhouse and in-
quire his way to Tann, for he had come a sufficient distance
from the spot where he had stolen his new clothes to hope
that they would not be recognized or that the news of their
theft had not preceded him.

As he walked he heard the sound of the feet of a horse
galloping over a dry field--muffled, rapid thud approach-
ing closer upon his right hand.  Barney remained motionless.
He was sure that the rider would not enter the wood which,
with its low-hanging boughs and thick underbrush, was ill
adapted to equestrianism.

Closer and closer came the sound until it ceased suddenly
scarce a hundred yards from where the American hid.  He
waited in silence to discover what would happen next.
Would the rider enter the wood on foot?  What was his pur-
pose?  Was it another Austrian who had by some miracle
discovered the whereabouts of the fugitive?  Barney could
scarce believe it possible.

Presently he heard another horse approaching at the same
mad gallop.  He heard the sound of rapid, almost frantic
efforts of some nature where the first horse had come to a
stop.  He heard a voice urging the animal forward--plead-
ing, threatening.  A woman's voice.  Barney's excitement be-
came intense in sympathy with the subdued excitement of
the woman whom he could not as yet see.

A moment later the second rider came to a stop at the
same point at which the first had reined in.  A man's voice
rose roughly.  "Halt!" it cried.  "In the name of the king,
halt!"  The American could no longer resist the temptation to
see what was going on so close to him "in the name of the
king."

He advanced from behind his tree until he saw the two
figures--a man's and a woman's.  Some bushes intervened--
he could not get a clear view of them, yet there was some-
thing about the figure of the woman, whose back was to-
ward him as she struggled to mount her frightened horse,
that caused him to leap rapidly toward her.  He rounded a
tree a few paces from her just as the man--a trooper in the
uniform of the house of Blentz--caught her arm and dragged
her from the saddle.  At the same instant Barney recognized
the girl--it was Princess Emma.

Before either the trooper or the princess were aware of
his presence he had leaped to the man's side and dealt him
a blow that stretched him at full length upon the ground--
stunned.




VIII

AN ADVENTUROUS DAY

FOR AN INSTANT the two stood looking at one another.  The
girl's eyes were wide with incredulity, with hope, with fear.
She was the first to break the silence.

"Who are you?" she breathed in a half whisper.

"I don't wonder that you ask," returned the man.  "I must
look like a scarecrow.  I'm Barney Custer.  Don't you re-
member me now?  Who did you think I was?"

The girl took a step toward him.  Her eyes lighted with
relief.

"Captain Maenck told me that you were dead," she said,
"that you had been shot as a spy in Austria, and then there
is that uncanny resemblance to the king--since he has shaved
his beard it is infinitely more remarkable.  I thought you
might be he.  He has been at Blentz and I knew that it was
quite possible that he had discovered treachery upon the
part of Prince Peter.  In which case he might have escaped
in disguise.  I really wasn't sure that you were not he until
you spoke."

Barney stooped and removed the bandoleer of cartridges
from the fallen trooper, as well as his revolver and carbine.
Then he took the girl's hand and together they turned into
the wood.  Behind them came the sound of pursuit.  They
heard the loud words of Maenck as he ordered his three
remaining men into the wood on foot.  As he advanced,
Barney looked to the magazine of his carbine and the cylin-
der of his revolver.

"Why were they pursuing you?" he asked.

"They were taking me to Blentz to force me to wed
Leopold," she replied.  "They told me that my father's life
depended upon my consenting; but I should not have done
so.  The honor of my house is more precious than the life of
any of its members.  I escaped them a few miles back, and
they were following to overtake me."

A noise behind them caused Barney to turn.  One of the
troopers had come into view.  He carried his carbine in his
hands and at sight of the man with the fugitive girl he
raised it to his shoulder; but as the American turned toward
him his eyes went wide and his jaw dropped.

Instantly Barney knew that the fellow had noted his re-
semblance to the king.  Barney's body was concealed from
the view of the other by a bush which grew between them,
so the man saw only the face of the American.  The fellow
turned and shouted to Maenck: "The king is with her."

"Nonsense," came the reply from farther back in the wood.
"If there is a man with her and he will not surrender, shoot
him."  At the words Barney and the girl turned once more
to their flight.  From behind came the command to halt--
"Halt! or I fire."  Just ahead Barney saw the river.

They were sure to be taken there if he was unable to gain
the time necessary to make good a crossing.  Upon the op-
posite side was a continuation of the wood.  Behind them
the leading trooper was crashing through the underbrush
in renewed pursuit.  He came in sight of them again, just as
they reached the river bank.  Once more his carbine was
leveled.  Barney pushed the girl to her knees behind a bush.
Then he wheeled and fired, so quickly that the man with
the already leveled gun had no time to anticipate his act.

With a cry the fellow threw his hands above his head,
staggered forward and plunged full length upon his face.
Barney gathered the princess in his arms and plunged into
the shallow stream.  The girl held his carbine as he stumbled
over the rocky bottom.  The water deepened rapidly--the
opposite shore seemed a long way off and behind there were
three more enemies in hot pursuit.

Under ordinary circumstances Barney could have found it
in his heart to wish the little Luthanian river as broad as the
Mississippi, for only under such circumstances as these could
he ever hope to hold the Princess Emma in his arms.  Two
years before she had told him that she loved him; but at
the same time she had given him to understand that their
love was hopeless.  She might refuse to wed the king; but
that she should ever wed another while the king lived was
impossible, unless Leopold saw fit to release her from her
betrothal to him and sanction her marriage to another.  That
he ever would do this was to those who knew him not even
remotely possible.

He loved Emma von der Tann and he hated Barney
Custer--hated him with a jealous hatred that was almost
fanatic in its intensity.  And even that the Princess Emma
von der Tann would wed him were she free to wed was a
question that was not at all clear in the mind of Barney
Custer.  He knew something of the traditions of this noble
family--of the pride of caste, of the fetish of blood that
inexorably dictated the ordering of their lives.

The girl had just said that the honor of her house was
more precious than the life of any of its members.  How much
more precious would it be to her than her own material
happiness!  Barney Custer sighed and struggled through the
swirling waters that were now above his hips.  If he pressed
the lithe form closer to him than necessity demanded, who
may blame him?

The girl, whose face was toward the bank they had just
quitted, gave no evidence of displeasure if she noted the
fierce pressure of his muscles.  Her eyes were riveted upon
the wood behind.  Presently a man emerged.  He called to
them in a loud and threatening tone.

Barney redoubled his Herculean efforts to gain the oppo-
site bank.  He was in midstream now and the water had
risen to his waist.  The girl saw Maenck and the other
trooper emerge from the underbrush beside the first.  Maenck
was crazed with anger.  He shook his fist and screamed aloud
his threatening commands to halt, and then, of a sudden,
gave an order to one of the men at his side.  Immediately
the fellow raised his carbine and fired at the escaping couple.

The bullet struck the water behind them.  At the sound of
the report the girl raised the gun she held and leveled it at
the group behind her.  She pulled the trigger.  There was a
sharp report, and one of the troopers fell.  Then she fired
again, quickly, and again and again.  She did not score an-
other hit, but she had the satisfaction of seeing Maenck and
the last of his troopers dodge back to the safety of protecting
trees.

"The cowards!" muttered Barney as the enemy's shot an-
nounced his sinister intention; "they might have hit your
highness."

The girl did not reply until she had ceased firing.

"Captain Maenck is notoriously a coward," she said.  "He
is hiding behind a tree now with one of his men--I hit the
other."

"You hit one of them!" exclaimed Barney enthusiastically.

"Yes," said the girl.  "I have shot a man.  I often wondered
what the sensation must be to have done such a thing.  I
should feel terribly, but I don't.  They were firing at you,
trying to shoot you in the back while you were defenseless.
I am not sorry--I cannot be; but I only wish that it had
been Captain Maenck."

In a short time Barney reached the bank and, helping the
girl up, climbed to her side.  A couple of shots followed
them as they left the river, but did not fall dangerously
near.  Barney took the carbine and replied, then both of
them disappeared into the wood.

For the balance of the day they tramped on in the
direction of Lustadt, making but little progress owing to the
fear of apprehension.  They did not dare utilize the high
road, for they were still too close to Blentz.  Their only hope
lay in reaching the protection of Prince von der Tann before
they should be recaptured by the king's emissaries.  At
dusk they came to the outskirts of a town.  Here they hid
until darkness settled, for Barney had determined to enter
the place after dark and hire horses.

The American marveled at the bravery and endurance of
the girl.  He had always supposed that a princess was so
carefully guarded from fatigue and privation all her life that
the least exertion would prove her undoing; but no hardy
peasant girl could have endured more bravely the hardships
and dangers through which the Princess Emma had passed
since the sun rose that morning.

At last darkness came, and with it they approached and
entered the village.  They kept to unlighted side streets until
they met a villager, of whom they inquired their way to
some private house where they might obtain refreshments.
The fellow scrutinized them with evident suspicion.

"There is an inn yonder," he said, pointing toward the
main street.  "You can obtain food there.  Why should re-
spectable folk want to go elsewhere than to the public inn?
And if you are afraid to go there you must have very good
reasons for not wanting to be seen, and--" he stopped short
as though assailed by an idea.  "Wait," he cried, excitedly,
"I will go and see if I can find a place for you.  Wait right
here," and off he ran toward the inn.

"I don't like the looks of that," said Barney, after the
man had left them.  "He's gone to report us to someone.
Come, we'd better get out of here before he comes back."

The two turned up a side street away from the inn.  They
had gone but a short distance when they heard the sound
of voices and the thud of horses' feet behind them.  The
horses were coming at a walk and with them were several
men on foot.  Barney took the princess' hand and drew her up
a hedge bordered driveway that led into private grounds.  In
the shadows of the hedge they waited for the party behind
them to pass.  It might be no one searching for them, but it
was just as well to be on the safe side--they were still near
Blentz.  Before the men reached their hiding place a motor
car followed and caught up with them, and as the party
came opposite the driveway Barney and the princess over-
heard a portion of their conversation.

"Some of you go back and search the street behind the
inn--they may not have come this way."  The speaker was
in the motor car.  "We will follow along this road for a bit
and then turn into the Lustadt highway.  If you don't find
them go back along the road toward Tann."

In her excitement the Princess Emma had not noticed that
Barney Custer still held her hand in his.  Now he pressed it.
"It is Maenck's voice," he whispered.  "Every road will be
guarded."

For a moment he was silent, thinking.  The searching party
had passed on.  They could still hear the purring of the
motor as Maenck's car moved slowly up the street.

"This is a driveway," murmured Barney.  "People who
build driveways into their grounds usually have something
to drive.  Whatever it is it should be at the other end of the
driveway.  Let's see if it will carry two."

Still in the shadow of the hedge they moved cautiously
toward the upper end of the private road until presently
they saw a building looming in their path.

"A garage?" whispered Barney.

"Or a barn," suggested the princess.

"In either event it should contain something that can go,"
returned the American.  "Let us hope that it can go like--
like--ah--the wind."

"And carry two," supplemented the princess.

"Wait here," said Barney.  "If I get caught, run.  What-
ever happens you mustn't be caught."

Princess Emma dropped back close to the hedge and
Barney approached the building, which proved to be a
private garage.  The doors were locked, as also were the
three windows.  Barney passed entirely around the structure
halting at last upon the darkest side.  Here was a window.
Barney tried to loosen the catch with the blade of his pocket
knife, but it wouldn't unfasten.  His endeavors resulted only
in snapping short the blade of his knife.  For a moment he
stood contemplating the baffling window.  He dared not break
the glass for fear of arousing the inmates of the house
which, though he could not see it, might be close at hand.

Presently he recalled a scene he had witnessed on State
Street in Chicago several years before--a crowd standing
before the window of a jeweler's shop inspecting a neat little
hole that a thief had cut in the glass with a diamond and
through which he had inserted his hand and brought forth
several hundred dollars worth of loot.  But Barney Custer
wore no diamond--he would as soon have worn a celluloid
collar.  But women wore diamonds.  Doubtless the Princess
Emma had one.  He ran quickly to her side.

"Have you a diamond ring?" he whispered.

"Gracious!" she exclaimed, "you are progressing rapidly,"
and slipped a solitaire from her finger to his hand.

"Thanks," said Barney.  "I need the practice; but wait and
you'll see that a diamond may be infinitely more valuable
than even the broker claims," and he was gone again into
the shadows of the garage.  Here upon the window pane he
scratched a rough deep circle, close to the catch.  A quick
blow sent the glass clattering to the floor within.  For a
minute Barney stood listening for any sign that the noise
had attracted attention, but hearing nothing he ran his hand
through the hole that he had made and unlatched the
frame.  A moment later he had crawled within.

Before him, in the darkness, stood a roadster.  He ran his
hand over the pedals and levers, breathing a sigh of relief
as his touch revealed the familiar control of a standard
make.  Then he went to the double doors.  They opened
easily and silently.

Once outside he hastened to the side of the waiting girl.

"It's a machine," he whispered.  "We must both be in it
when it leaves the garage--it's the through express for Lus-
tadt and makes no stops for passengers or freight."

He led her back to the garage and helped her into the
seat beside him.  As silently as possible he ran the machine
into the driveway.  A hundred yards to the left, half hidden
by intervening trees and shrubbery, rose the dark bulk of a
house.  A subdued light shone through the drawn blinds of
several windows--the only sign of life about the premises
until the car had cleared the garage and was moving slowly
down the driveway.  Then a door opened in the house let-
ting out a flood of light in which the figure of a man was
silhouetted.  A voice broke the silence.

"Who are you?  What are you doing there?  Come back!"

The man in the doorway called excitedly, "Friedrich!  Come!
Come quickly!  Someone is stealing the automobile," and the
speaker came running toward the driveway at top speed.
Behind him came Friedrich.  Both were shouting, waving
their arms and threatening.  Their combined din might have
aroused the dead.

Barney sought speed--silence now was useless.  He turned
to the left into the street away from the center of the town.
In this direction had gone the automobile with Maenck, but
by taking the first righthand turn Barney hoped to elude
the captain.  In a moment Friedrich and the other were
hopelessly distanced.  It was with a sigh of relief that the
American turned the car into the dark shadows beneath the
overarching trees of the first cross street.

He was running without lights along an unknown way;
and beside him was the most precious burden that Barney
Custer might ever expect to carry.  Under these circumstances
his speed was greatly reduced from what he would have
wished, but at that he was forced to accept grave risks.  The
road might end abruptly at the brink of a ravine--it might
swerve perilously close to a stone quarry--or plunge head-
long into a pond or river.  Barney shuddered at the possibili-
ties; but nothing of the sort happened.  The street ran straight
out of the town into a country road, rather heavy with
sand.  In the open the possibilities of speed were increased,
for the night, though moonless, was clear, and the road
visible for some distance ahead.

The fugitives were congratulating themselves upon the ex-
cellent chance they now had to reach Lustadt.  There was
only Maenck and his companion ahead of them in the other
car, and as there were several roads by which one might
reach the main highway the chances were fair that Prince
Peter's aide would miss them completely.

Already escape seemed assured when the pounding of
horses' hoofs upon the roadway behind them arose to blast
their new found hope.  Barney increased the speed of the
car.  It leaped ahead in response to his foot; but the road
was heavy, and the sides of the ruts gripping the tires re-
tarded the speed.  For a mile they held the lead of the
galloping horsemen.  The shouts of their pursuers fell clearly
upon their ears, and the Princess Emma, turning in her seat,
could easily see the four who followed.  At last the car be-
gan to draw away--the distance between it and the riders
grew gradually greater.

"I believe we are going to make it," whispered the girl,
her voice tense with excitement.  "If you could only go a
little faster, Mr. Custer, I'm sure that we will."

"She's reached her limit in this sand," replied the man,
"and there's a grade just ahead--we may find better going
beyond, but they're bound to gain on us before we reach
the top."

The girl strained her eyes into the night before them.  On
the right of the road stood an ancient ruin--grim and for-
bidding.  As her eyes rested upon it she gave a little ex-
clamation of relief.

"I know where we are now," she cried.  "The hill ahead is
sandy, and there is a quarter of a mile of sand beyond, but
then we strike the Lustadt highway, and if we can reach it
ahead of them their horses will have to go ninety miles an
hour to catch us--provided this car possesses any such
speed possibilities."

"If it can go forty we are safe enough," replied Barney;
"but we'll give it a chance to go as fast as it can--the
farther we are from the vicinity of Blentz the safer I shall
feel for the welfare of your highness."

A shot rang behind them, and a bullet whistled high
above their heads.  The princess seized the carbine that
rested on the seat between them.

"Shall I?" she asked, turning its muzzle back over the low-
ered top.

"Better not," answered the man.  "They are only trying
to frighten us into surrendering--that shot was much too
high to have been aimed at us--they are shooting over our
heads purposely.  If they deliberately attempt to pot us later,
then go for them, but to do it now would only draw their
fire upon us.  I doubt if they wish to harm your highness,
but they certainly would fire to hit in self-defense."

The girl lowered the firearm.  "I am becoming perfectly
bloodthirsty," she said, "but it makes me furious to be
hunted like a wild animal in my native land, and by the
command of my king, at that.  And to think that you who
placed him upon his throne, you who have risked your life
many times for him, will find no protection at his hands
should you be captured is maddening.  Ach, Gott, if I
were a man!"

"I thank God that you are not, your highness," returned
Barney fervently.

Gently she laid her hand upon his where it gripped the
steering wheel.

"No," she said, "I was wrong--I do not need to be a man
while there still be such men as you, my friend; but I would
that I were not the unhappy woman whom Fate had bound
to an ingrate king--to a miserable coward!"

They had reached the grade at last, and the motor was
straining to the Herculean task imposed upon it.

Grinding and grating in second speed the car toiled up-
ward through the clinging sand.  The pace was snail-like.  Be-
hind, the horsemen were gaining rapidly.  The labored
breathing of their mounts was audible even above the noise
of the motor, so close were they.  The top of the ascent lay
but a few yards ahead, and the pursuers were but a few
yards behind.

"Halt!" came from behind, and then a shot.  The ping of
the bullet and the scream of the ricochet warned the man
and the girl that those behind them were becoming desper-
ate--the bullet had struck one of the rear fenders.  Without
again asking assent the princess turned and, kneeling upon
the cushion of the seat, fired at the nearest horseman.  The
horse stumbled and plunged to his knees.  Another, just be-
hind, ran upon him, and the two rolled over together with
their riders.  Two more shots were fired by the remaining
horsemen and answered by the girl in the automobile, and
then the car topped the hill, shot into high, and with re-
newed speed forged into the last quarter-mile of heavy
going toward the good road ahead; but now the grade
was slightly downward and all the advantage was upon the
side of the fugitives.

However, their margin would be but scant when they
reached the highway, for behind them the remaining troop-
ers were spurring their jaded horses to a final spurt of
speed.  At last the white ribbon of the main road became
visible.  To the right they saw the headlights of a machine.
It was Maenck probably, doubtless attracted their way by
the shooting.

But the machine was a mile away and could not possibly
reach the intersection of the two roads before they had
turned to the left toward Lustadt.  Then the incident would
resolve itself into a simple test of speed between the two
cars--and the ability and nerve of the drivers.  Barney hadn't
the slightest doubt now as to the outcome.  His borrowed
car was a good one, in good condition.  And in the matter
of driving he rather prided himself that he needn't take his
hat off to anyone when it came to ability and nerve.

They were only about fifty feet from the highway.  The
girl touched his hand again.  "We're safe," she cried, her
voice vibrant with excitement, "we're safe at last."  From be-
neath the bonnet, as though in answer to her statement,
came a sickly, sucking sputter.  The momentum of the car
diminished.  The throbbing of the engine ceased.  They sat
in silence as the machine coasted toward the highway and
came to a dead stop, with its front wheels upon the road
to safety.  The girl turned toward Barney with an exclama-
tion of surprise and interrogation.

"The jig's up," he groaned.; "we're out of gasoline!"




IX

THE CAPTURE

THE CAPTURE of Princess Emma von der Tann and Barney
Custer was a relatively simple matter.  Open fields spread in
all directions about the crossroads at which their car had
come to its humiliating stop.  There was no cover.  To have
sought escape by flight, thus in the open, would have been
to expose the princess to the fire of the troopers.  Barney
could not do this.  He preferred to surrender and trust to
chance to open the way to escape later.

When Captain Ernst Maenck drove up he found the pris-
oners disarmed, standing beside the now-useless car.  He
alighted from his own machine and with a low bow saluted
the princess, an ironical smile upon his thin lips.  Then he
turned his attention toward her companion.

"Who are you?" he demanded gruffly.  In the darkness
he failed to recognize the American whom he thought dead
in Austria.

"A servant of the house of Von der Tann," replied Barney.

"You deserve shooting," growled the officer, "but we'll
leave that to Prince Peter and the king.  When I tell them
the trouble you have caused us--well, God help you."

The journey to Blentz was a short one.  They had been
much nearer that grim fortress than either had guessed.  At
the outskirts of the town they were challenged by Austrian
sentries, through which Maenck passed with ease after the
sentinel had summoned an officer.  From this man Maenck
received the password that would carry them through the
line of outposts between the town and the castle--"Slanka-
men."  Barney, who overheard the word, made a mental note
of it.

At last they reached the dreary castle of Peter of Blentz.
In the courtyard Austrian soldiers mingled with the men of
the bodyguard of the king of Lutha.  Within, the king's offi-
cers fraternized with the officers of the emperor.  Maenck
led his prisoners to the great hall which was filled with
officers and officials of both Austria and Lutha.

The king was not there.  Maenck learned that he had re-
tired to his apartments a few minutes earlier in company
with Prince Peter of Blentz and Von Coblich.  He sent a
servant to announce his return with the Princess von der
Tann and a man who had attempted to prevent her being
brought to Blentz.

Barney had, as far as possible, kept his face averted from
Maenck since they had entered the lighted castle.  He hoped
to escape recognition, for he knew that if his identity were
guessed it might go hard with the princess.  As for himself,
it might go even harder, but of that he gave scarcely a
thought--the safety of the princess was paramount.

After a few minutes of waiting the servant returned with
the king's command to fetch the prisoners to his apartments.
The face of the Princess Emma was haggard.  For the first
time Barney saw signs of fear upon her countenance.  With
leaden steps they accompanied their guard up the winding
stairway to the tower rooms that had been furnished for
the king.  They were the same in which Emma von der Tann
had been imprisoned two years before.

On either side of the doorway stood a soldier of the king's
bodyguard.  As Captain Maenck approached they saluted.
A servant opened the door and they passed into the room.
Before them were Peter of Blentz and Von Coblich standing
beside a table at which Leopold of Lutha was sitting.  The
eyes of the three men were upon the doorway as the little
party entered.  The king's face was flushed with wine.  He
rose as his eyes rested upon the face of the princess.

"Greetings, your highness," he cried with an attempt at
cordiality.

The girl looked straight into his eyes, coldly, and then
bent her knee in formal curtsy.  The king was about to speak
again when his eyes wandered to the face of the American.
Instantly his own went white and then scarlet.  The eyes of
Peter of Blentz followed those of the king, widening in as-
tonishment as they rested upon the features of Barney Cus-
ter.

"You told me he was dead," shouted the king.  "What is
the meaning of this, Captain Maenck?"

Maenck looked at his male prisoner and staggered back
as though struck between the eyes.

"Mein Gott," he exclaimed, "the impostor!"

"You told me he was dead," repeated the king accusingly.

"As God is my judge, your majesty," cried Peter of Blentz,
"this man was shot by an Austrian firing squad in Burgova
over a week ago."

"Sire," exclaimed Maenck, "this is the first sight I have
had of the prisoners except in the darkness of the night;
until this instant I had not the remotest suspicion of his
identity.  He told me that he was a servant of the house of
Von der Tann."

"I told you the truth, then," interjected Barney.

"Silence, you ingrate!" cried the king.

"Ingrate?" repeated Barney.  "You have the effrontery to
call me an ingrate?  You miserable puppy."

A silence, menacing in its intensity, fell upon the little
assemblage.  The king trembled.  His rage choked him.  The
others looked as though they scarce could believe the testi-
mony of their own ears.  All there, with the possible excep-
tion of the king, knew that he deserved even more degrad-
ing appellations; but they were Europeans, and to Euro-
peans a king is a king--that they can never forget.  It had
been the inherent suggestion of kingship that had bent the
knee of the Princess Emma before the man she despised.

But to the American a king was only what he made him-
self.  In this instance he was not even a man in the estimation
of Barney Custer.  Maenck took a step toward the prisoner
--a menacing step, for his hand had gone to his sword.
Barney met him with a level look from between narrowed
lids.  Maenck hesitated, for he was a great coward.  Peter
of Blentz spoke:

"Sire," he said, "the fellow knows that he is already as
good as dead, and so in his bravado he dares affront you.
He has been convicted of spying by the Austrians.  He is
still a spy.  It is unnecessary to repeat the formality of a
trial."

Leopold at last found his voice, though it trembled and
broke as he spoke.

"Carry out the sentence of the Austrian court in the
morning," he said.  "A volley now might arouse the garrison
in the town and be misconstrued."

Maenck ordered Barney escorted from the apartment, then
he turned toward the king.

"And the other prisoner, sire?" he inquired.

"There is no other prisoner," he said.  "Her highness, the
Princess von der Tann, is a guest of Prince Peter.  She will
be escorted to her apartment at once."

"Her highness, the Princess von der Tann, is not a guest
of Prince Peter."  The girl's voice was low and cold.  "If Mr.
Custer is a prisoner, her highness, too, is a prisoner.  If he is
to be shot, she demands a like fate.  To die by the side of a
MAN would be infinitely preferable to living by the side of
your majesty."

Once again Leopold of Lutha reddened.  For a moment
he paced the room angrily to hide his emotion.  Then he
turned once to Maenck.

"Escort the prisoner to the north tower," he commanded,
"and this insolent girl to the chambers next to ours.  To-
morrow we shall talk with her again."

Outside the room Barney turned for a last look at the
princess as he was being led in one direction and she in
another.  A smile of encouragement was on his lips and cold
hopelessness in his heart.  She answered the smile and her
lips formed a silent "good-bye."  They formed something
else, too--three words which he was sure he could not have
mistaken, and then they parted, he for the death chamber
and she for what fate she could but guess.

As his guard halted before a door at the far end of a long
corridor Barney Custer sensed a sudden familiarity in his
surroundings.  He was conscious of that sensation which is
common to all of us--of having lived through a scene at
some former time, to each minutest detail.

As the door opened and he was pushed into the room he
realized that there was excellent foundation for the impres-
sion--he immediately recognized the apartment as the same
in which he had once before been imprisoned.  At that time
he had been mistaken for the mad king who had escaped
from the clutches of Peter of Blentz.  The same king was
now visiting as a guest the fortress in which he had spent
ten bitter years as a prisoner.

"Say your prayers, my friend," admonished Maenck, as
he was about to leave him alone, "for at dawn you die--
and this time the firing squad will make a better job of it."

Barney did not answer him, and the captain departed,
locking the door after him and leaving two men on guard
in the corridor.  Alone, Barney looked about the room.  It was
in no wise changed since his former visit to it.  He recalled
the incidents of the hour of his imprisonment here, thought
of old Joseph who had aided his escape, looked at the
paneled fireplace, whose secret, it was evident, not even the
master of Blentz was familiar with--and grinned.

"'For at dawn you die!'" he repeated to himself, still
smiling broadly.  Then he crossed quickly to the fireplace,
running his fingers along the edge of one of the large tiled
panels that hid the entrance to the well-like shaft that rose
from the cellars beneath to the towers above and which
opened through similar concealed exits upon each floor.  If
the floor above should be untenanted he might be able to
reach it as he and Joseph had done two years ago when they
opened the secret panel in the fireplace and climbed a hid-
den ladder to the room overhead; and then by vacant cor-
ridors reached the far end of the castle above the suite in
which the princess had been confined and near which Bar-
ney had every reason to believe she was now imprisoned.

Carefully Barney's fingers traversed the edges of the panel.
No hidden latch rewarded his search.  Again and again he
examined the perfectly fitted joints until he was convinced
either that there was no latch there or that it was hid be-
yond possibility of discovery.  With each succeeding minute
the American's heart and hopes sank lower and lower.  Two
years had elapsed since he had seen the secret portal swing
to the touch of Joseph's fingers.  One may forget much in
two years; but that he was at work upon the right panel
Barney was positive.  However, it would do no harm to ex-
amine its mate which resembled it in minutest detail.

Almost indifferently Barney turned his attention to the
other panel.  He ran his fingers over it, his eyes following
them.  What was that?  A finger-print?  Upon the left side half
way up a tiny smudge was visible.  Barney examined it
more carefully.  A round, white figure of the conventional
design that was burned into the tile bore the telltale smudge.

Otherwise it differed apparently in no way from the
numerous other round, white figures that were repeated
many times in the scheme of decoration.  Barney placed his
thumb exactly over the mark that another thumb had left
there and pushed.  The figure sank into the panel beneath
the pressure.  Barney pushed harder, breathless with sus-
pense.  The panel swung in at his effort.  The American could
have whooped with delight.

A moment more and he stood upon the opposite side of
the secret door in utter darkness, for he had quickly closed
it after him.  To strike a match was but the matter of a mo-
ment.  The wavering light revealed the top of the ladder that
led downward and the foot of another leading aloft.  He
struck still more matches in search of the rope.  It was not
there, but his quest revealed the fact that the well at this
point was much larger than he had imagined--it broadened
into a small chamber.

The light of many matches finally led him to the discovery
of a passageway directly behind the fireplace.  It was nar-
row, and after spanning the chimney descended by a few
rough steps to a slightly lower level.  It led toward the
opposite end of the castle.  Could it be possible that it con-
nected directly with the apartments in the farther tower--
in the tower where the king was and the Princess Emma?
Barney could scarce hope for any such good luck, but at
least it was worth investigating--it must lead somewhere.

He followed it warily, feeling his way with hands and
feet and occasionally striking a match.  It was evident that
the corridor lay in the thick wall of the castle, midway be-
tween the bottoms of the windows of the second floor and the
tops of those upon the first--this would account for the
slightly lower level of the passage from the floor of the
second story.

Barney had traversed some distance in the darkness along
the forgotten corridor when the sound of voices came to
him from beyond the wall at his right.  He stopped, motion-
less, pressing his ear against the side wall.  As he did so he
became aware of the fact that at this point the wall was of
wood--a large panel of hardwood.  Now he could hear even
the words of the speaker upon the opposite side.

"Fetch her here, captain, and I will talk with her alone."
The voice was the king's.  "And, captain, you might remove
the guard from before the door temporarily.  I shall not re-
quire them, nor do I wish them to overhear my conversa-
tion with the princess."

Barney could hear the officer acknowledge the commands
of the king, and then he heard a door close.  The man had
gone to fetch the princess.  The American struck a match
and examined the panel before him.  It reached to the top
of the passageway and was some three feet in width.

At one side were three hinges, and at the other an ancient
spring lock.  For an instant Barney stood in indecision.  What
should he do?  His entry into the apartments of the king
would result in alarming the entire fortress.  Were he sure
the king was alone it might be accomplished.  Should he
enter now or wait until the Princess Emma had been brought
to the king?

With the question came the answer--a bold and daring
scheme.  His fingers sought the lock.  Very gently, he un-
latched it and pushed outward upon the panel.  Suddenly
the great doorway gave beneath his touch.  It opened a
crack letting a flood of light into his dark cell that almost
blinded him.

For a moment he could see nothing, and then out of the
glaring blur grew the figure of a man sitting at a table--
with his back toward the panel.

It was the king, and he was alone.  Noiselessly Barney
Custer entered the apartment, closing the panel after him.
At his back now was the great oil painting of the Blentz
princess that had hid the secret entrance to the room.  He
crossed the thick rugs until he stood behind the king.  Then
he clapped one hand over the mouth of the monarch of
Lutha and threw the other arm about his neck.

"Make the slightest outcry and I shall kill you," he whis-
pered in the ear of the terrified man.

Across the room Barney saw a revolver lying upon a small
table.  He raised the king to his feet and, turning his back
toward the weapon dragged him across the apartment until
the table was within easy reach.  Then he snatched up the
revolver and swung the king around into a chair facing him,
the muzzle of the gun pressed against his face.

"Silence," he whispered.

The king, white and trembling, gasped as his eyes fell
upon the face of the American.

"You?"  His voice was barely audible.

"Take off your clothes--every stitch of them--and if any
one asks for admittance, deny them.  Quick, now," as the
king hesitated.  "My life is forfeited unless I can escape.  If I
am apprehended
I shall see that you pay for my recapture
with your life--if any one enters this room without my
sanction they will enter it to find a dead king upon the
floor; do you understand?"

The king made no reply other than to commence divesting
himself of his clothing.  Barney followed his example, but
not before he had crossed to the door that opened into the
main corridor and shot the bolt upon the inside.  When both
men had removed their clothing Barney pointed to the little
pile of soiled peasant garb that he had worn.

"Put those on," he commanded.

The king hesitated, drawing back in disgust.  Barney
paused, half-way into the royal union suit, and leveled the
revolver at Leopold.  The king picked up one of the gar-
ments gingerly between the tips of his thumb and finger.

"Hurry!" admonished the American, drawing the silk half-
hose of the ruler of Lutha over his foot.  "If you don't hurry,"
he added, "someone may interrupt us, and you know what
the result would be--to you."

Scowling, Leopold donned the rough garments.  Barney,
fully clothed in the uniform the king had been wearing,
stepped across the apartment to where the king's sword and
helmet lay upon the side table that had also borne the re-
volver.  He placed the helmet upon his head and buckled the
sword-belt about his waist, then he faced the king, behind
whom was a cheval glass.  In it Barney saw his image.  The
king was looking at the American, his eyes wide and his jaw
dropped.  Barney did not wonder at his consternation.  He
himself was dumbfounded by the likeness which he bore
to the king.  It was positively uncanny.  He approached Leo-
pold.

"Remove your rings," he said, holding out his hand.  The
king did as he was bid, and Barney slipped the two baubles
upon his fingers.  One of them was the royal ring of the kings
of Lutha.

The American now blindfolded the king and led him to-
ward the panel which had given him ingress to the room.
Through it the two men passed, Barney closing the panel
after them.  then he conducted the king back along the
dark passageway to the room which the American had but
recently quitted.  At the back of the panel which led into his
former prison Barney halted and listened.  No sound came
from beyond the partition.  Gently Barney opened the secret
door a trifle--just enough to permit him a quick survey of
the interior of the apartment.  It was empty.  A smile crossed
his face as he thought of the difficulty Leopold might en-
counter the following morning in convincing his jailers that
he was not the American.

Then he recalled his reflection in the cheval glass and
frowned.  Could Leopold convince them?  He doubted it--
and what then?  The American was sentenced to be shot at
dawn.  They would shoot the king instead.  Then there would
be none to whom to return the kingship.  What would he do
with it?  The temptation was great.  Again a throne lay within
his grasp--a throne and the woman he loved.  None might
ever know unless he chose to tell--his resemblance to Leo-
pold was too perfect.  It defied detection.

With an exclamation of impatience he wheeled about
and dragged the frightened monarch back to the room from
which he had stolen him.  As he entered he heard a knock
at the door.

"Do not disturb me now," he called.  "Come again in
half an hour."

"But it is Her Highness, Princess Emma, sire," came a
voice from beyond the door.  "You summoned her."

"She may return to her apartments," replied Barney.

All the time he kept his revolver leveled at the king,
from his eyes he had removed the blind after they had
entered the apartment.  He crossed to the table where the
king had been sitting when he surprised him, motioning
the ragged ruler to follow and be seated.

"Take that pen," he said, "and write a full pardon for
Mr. Bernard Custer, and an order requiring that he be fur-
nished with money and set at liberty at dawn."

The king did as he was bid.  For a moment the American
stood looking at him before he spoke again.

"You do not deserve what I am going to do for you," he
said.  "And Lutha deserves a better king than the one my
act will give her; but I am neither a thief nor a murderer,
and so I must forbear leaving you to your just deserts and
return your throne to you.  I shall do so after I have insured
my own safety and done what I can for Lutha--what you
are too little a man and king to do yourself.

"So soon as they liberate you in the morning, make the
best of your way to Brosnov, on the Serbian frontier.  Await
me there.  When I can, I shall come.  Again we may ex-
change clothing and you can return to Lustadt.  I shall cross
over into Siberia out of your reach, for I know you too
well to believe that any sense of honor or gratitude would
prevent you signing my death-warrant at the first opportunity.
Now, come!"

Once again Barney led the blindfolded king through the
dark corridor to the room in the opposite tower--to the
prison of the American.  At the open panel he shoved him
into the apartment.  Then he drew the door quietly to,
leaving the king upon the inside, and retraced his steps to
the royal apartments.  Crossing to the center table, he touched
an electric button.  A moment later an officer knocked at the
door, which, in the meantime, Barney had unbolted.

"Enter!" said the American.  He stood with his back to-
ward the door until he heard it close behind the officer.
When he turned he was apparently examining his revolver.
If the officer suspected his identity, it was just as well to
be prepared.  Slowly he raised his eyes to the newcomer, who
stood stiffly at salute.  The officer looked him full in the face.

"I answered your majesty's summons," said the man.

"Oh, yes!" returned the American.  "You may fetch the
Princess Emma."

The officer saluted once more and backed out of the
apartment.  Barney walked to the table and sat down.  A
tin box of cigarettes lay beside the lamp.  Barney lighted one
of them.  The king had good taste in the selection of tobacco,
he thought.  Well, a man must need have some redeeming
characteristics.

Outside, in the corridor, he heard voices, and again the
knock at the door.  He bade them enter.  As the door opened
Emma von der Tann, her head thrown back and a flush of
anger on her face, entered the room.  Behind her was the
officer who had been despatched to bring her.  Barney
nodded to the latter.

"You may go," he said.  He drew a chair from the table
and asked the princess to be seated.  She ignored his re-
quest.

"What do you wish of me?" she asked.  She was looking
straight into his eyes.  The officer had withdrawn and closed
the door after him.  They were alone, with nothing to fear;
yet she did not recognize him.

"You are the king," she continued in cold, level tones,
"but if you are also a gentleman, you will at once order
me returned to my father at Lustadt, and with me the man
to whom you owe so much.  I do not expect it of you, but I
wish to give you the chance.

"I shall not go without him.  I am betrothed to you; but
until tonight I should rather have died than wed you.  Now
I am ready to compromise.  If you will set Mr. Custer at
liberty in Serbia and return me unharmed to my father,
I will fulfill my part of our betrothal."

Barney Custer looked straight into the girl's face for a
long moment.  A half smile played upon his lips at the
thought of her surprise when she learned the truth, when
suddenly it dawned upon him that she and he were both
much safer if no one, not even her loyal self, guessed that
he was other than the king.  It is not difficult to live a part,
but often it is difficult to act one.  Some little word or look,
were she to know that he was Barney Custer, might betray
them; no, it was better to leave her in ignorance, though
his conscience pricked him for the disloyalty that his act
implied.

It seemed a poor return for her courage and loyalty to
him that her statement to the man she thought king had
revealed.  He marveled that a Von der Tann could have
spoken those words--a Von der Tann who but the day be-
fore had refused to save her father's life at the loss of the
family honor.  It seemed incredible to the American that he
had won such love from such a woman.  Again came the
mighty temptation to keep the crown and the girl both;
but with a straightening of his broad shoulders he threw it
from him.

She was promised to the king, and while he masqueraded
in the king's clothes, he at least would act the part that a
king should.  He drew a folded paper from his inside pocket
and handed it to the girl.

"Here is the American's pardon," he said, "drawn up and
signed by the king's own hand."

She opened it and, glancing through it hurriedly, looked
up at the man before her with a questioning expression in
her eyes.

"You came, then," she said, "to a realization of the enor-
mity of your ingratitude?"

The man shrugged.

"He will never die at my command," he said.

"I thank your majesty," she said simply.  "As a Von der
Tann, I have tried to believe that a Rubinroth could not be
guilty of such baseness.  And now, tell me what your an-
swer is to my proposition."

"We shall return to Lustadt tonight," he replied.  "I fear
the purpose of Prince Peter.  In fact, it may be difficult--even
impossible--for us to leave Blentz; but we can at least
make the attempt."

"Can we not take Mr. Custer with us?" she asked.  "Prince
Peter may disregard your majesty's commands and, after
you are gone, have him shot.  Do not forget that he kept
the crown from Peter of Blentz--it is certain that Prince
Peter will never forget it."

"I give you my word, your highness, that I know posi-
tively that if I leave Blentz tonight Prince Peter will not
have Mr. Custer shot in the morning, and it will so greatly
jeopardize his own plans if we attempt to release the prisoner
that in all probability we ourselves will be unable to es-
cape."

She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment.

"You give me your word that he will be safe?" she asked.

"My royal word," he replied.

"Very well, let us leave at once."

Barney touched the bell once more, and presently an
officer of the Blentz faction answered the summons.  As the
man closed the door and approached, saluting, Barney
stepped close to him.

"We are leaving for Tann tonight," he said, "at once.  You
will conduct us from the castle and procure horses for us.
All the time I shall walk at your elbow, and in my hand I
shall carry this," and he displayed the king's revolver.  "At
the first indication of defection upon your part I shall kill
you.  Do you perfectly understand me?"

"But, your majesty," exclaimed the officer, "why is it
necessary that you leave thus surreptitiously?  May not the
king go and come in his own kingdom as he desires?  Let
me announce your wishes to Prince Peter that he may fur-
nish you with a proper escort.  Doubtless he will wish to
accompany you himself, sire."

"You will do precisely what I say without further com-
ment," snapped Barney.  "Now get a--"  He had been about
to say: "Now get a move on you," when it occurred to him
that this was not precisely the sort of language that kings
were supposed to use to their inferiors.  So he changed it.
"Now get a couple of horses for her highness and myself,
as well as your own, for you will accompany us to Tann."

The officer looked at the weapon in the king's hand.  He
measured the distance between himself and the king.  He
well knew the reputed cowardice of Leopold.  Could he make
the leap and strike up the king's hand before the timorous
monarch found even the courage of the cornered rat to fire
at him?  Then his eyes sought the face of the king, searching
for the signs of nervous terror that would make his con-
quest an easy one; but what he saw in the eyes that bored
straight into his brought his own to the floor at the king's
feet.

What new force animated Leopold of Lutha?  Those were
not the eyes of a coward.  No fear was reflected in their
steely glitter.  The officer mumbled an apology, saluted, and
turned toward the door.  At his elbow walked the impostor;
a cavalry cape that had belonged to the king now covered
his shoulders and hid the weapon that pressed its hard
warning now and again into the short-ribs of the Blentz
officer.  Just behind the American came the Princess Emma
von der Tann.

The three passed through the deserted corridors of the
sleeping castle, taking a route at Barney's suggestion that led
them to the stable courtyard without necessitating traversing
the main corridors or the great hall or the guardroom, in all
of which there still were Austrian and Blentz soldiers, whose
duties or pleasures had kept them from their blankets.

At the stables a sleepy groom answered the summons of
the officer, whom Barney had warned not to divulge the
identity of himself or the princess.  He left the princess in
the shadows outside the building.  After what seemed an
eternity to the American, three horses were led into the
courtyard, saddled, and bridled.  The party mounted and
approached the gates.  Here, Barney knew, might be en-
countered the most serious obstacle in their path.  He rode
close to the side of their unwilling conductor.  Leaning for-
ward in his saddle, he whispered in the man's ear.

"Failure to pass us through the gates," he said, "will be
the signal for your death."

The man reined in his mount and turned toward the
American.

"I doubt if they will pass even me without a written
order from Prince Peter," he said.  "If they refuse, you must
reveal your identity.  The guard is composed of Luthanians
--I doubt if they will dare refuse your majesty."

Then they rode on up to the gates.  A soldier stepped
from the sentry box and challenged them.

"Lower the drawbridge," ordered the officer.  "It is
Captain Krantzwort on a mission for the king."

The soldier approached, raising a lantern, which he had
brought from the sentry box, and inspected the captain's
face.  He seemed ill at ease.  In the light of the lantern, the
American saw that he was scarce more than a boy--doubt-
less a recruit.  He saw the expression of fear and awe with
which he regarded the officer, and it occurred to him that
the effect of the king's presence upon him would be abso-
lutely overpowering.  Still the soldier hesitated.

"My orders are very strict, sir," he said.  "I am to let no
one leave without a written order from Prince Peter.  If the
sergeant or the lieutenant were here they would know what
to do; but they are both at the castle--only two other
soldiers are at the gates with me.  Wait, and I will send one
of them for the lieutenant."

"No," interposed the American.  "You will send for no
one, my man.  Come closer--look at my face."

The soldier approached, holding his lantern above his
head.  As its feeble rays fell upon the face and uniform of
the man on horseback, the sentry gave a little gasp of as-
tonishment.

"Now, lower the drawbridge," said Barney Custer, "it is
your king's command."

Quickly the fellow hastened to obey the order.  The chains
creaked and the windlass groaned as the heavy planking
sank to place across the moat.

As Barney passed the soldier he handed him the pardon
Leopold had written for the American.

"Give this to your lieutenant," he said, "and tell him to
hand it to Prince Peter before dawn tomorrow.  Do not fail."

A moment later the three were riding down the winding
road toward Blentz.  Barney had no further need of the
officer who rode with them.  He would be glad to be rid of
him, for he anticipated that the fellow might find ample
opportunity to betray them as they passed through the
Austrian lines, which they must do to reach Lustadt.

He had told the captain that they were going to Tann in
order that, should the man find opportunity to institute pur-
suit, he might be thrown off the track.  The Austrian sentries
were no great distance ahead when Barney ordered a halt.

"Dismount," he directed the captain, leaping to the ground
himself at the same time.  "Put your hands behind your
back."

The officer did as he was bid, and Barney bound his
wrists securely with a strap and buckle that he had re-
moved from the cantle of his saddle as he rode.  Then he
led him off the road among some weeds and compelled him
to lie down, after which he bound his ankles together and
stuffed a gag in his mouth, securing it in place with a bit
of stick and the chinstrap from the man's helmet.  The threat
of the revolver kept Captain Krantzwort silent and obedient
throughout the hasty operations.

"Good-bye, captain," whispered Barney, "and let me sug-
gest that you devote the time until your discovery and re-
lease in pondering the value of winning your king's confi-
dence in the future.  Had you chosen your associates more
carefully in the past, this need not have occurred."

Barney unsaddled the captain's horse and turned him
loose, then he remounted and, with the princess at his side,
rode down toward Blentz.



X

A NEW KING IN LUTHA

AS THE TWO riders approached the edge of the village of
Blentz a sentry barred their way.  To his challenge the
American replied that they were "friends from the castle."

"Advance," directed the sentry, "and give the counter-
sign."

Barney rode to the fellow's side, and leaning from the
saddle whispered in his ear the word "Slankamen."

Would it pass them out as it had passed Maenck in?
Barney scarcely breathed as he awaited the result of his
experiment.  The soldier brought his rifle to present and
directed them to pass.  With a sigh of relief that was almost
audible the two rode into the village and the Austrian lines.

Once within they met with no further obstacle until they
reached the last line of sentries upon the far side of the
town.  It was with more confidence that Barney gave the
countersign here, nor was he surprised that the soldier
passed them readily; and now they were upon the high-
road to Lustadt, with nothing more to bar their way.

For hours they rode on in silence.  Barney wanted to talk
with his companion, but as king he found nothing to say to
her.  The girl's mind was filled with morbid reflections of the
past few hours and dumb terror for the future.  She would
keep her promise to the king; but after--life would not be
worth the living; why should she live?  She glanced at the
man beside her in the light of the coming dawn.  Ah, why
was he so like her American in outward appearances only?
Their own mothers could scarce have distinguished them,
and yet in character no two men could have differed more
widely.  The man turned to her.

"We are almost there," he said.  "You must be very tired."

The words reflected a consideration that had never been
a characteristic of Leopold.  The girl began to wonder if
there might not possibly be a vein of nobility in the man,
after all, that she had never discovered.  Since she had en-
tered his apartments at Blentz he had been in every way a
different man from the Leopold she had known of old.  The
boldness of his escape from Blentz supposed a courage that
the king had never given the slightest indication of in the
past.  Could it be that he was making a genuine effort to
become a man--to win her respect?

They were approaching Lustadt as the sun rose.  A troop
of horse was just emerging from the north gate.  As it neared
them they saw that the cavalrymen wore the uniforms of
the Royal Horse Guard.  At their head rode a lieutenant.  As
his eyes fell upon the face of the princess and her com-
panion, he brought his troopers to a halt, and, with in-
credulity plain upon his countenance, advanced to meet
them, his hand raised in salute to the king.  It was Butzow.

Now Barney was sure that he would be recognized.  For
two years he and the Luthanian officer had been inseparable.
Surely Butzow would penetrate his disguise.  He returned
his friend's salute, looked him full in the eyes, and asked
where he was riding.

"To Blentz, your majesty," replied Butzow, "to demand
an audience.  I bear important word from Prince von der
Tann.  He has learned the Austrians are moving an entire
army corps into Lutha, together with siege howitzers.  Serbia
has demanded that all Austrian troops be withdrawn from
Luthanian territory at once, and has offered to assist your
majesty in maintaining your neutrality by force, if neces-
sary."

As Butzow spoke his eyes were often upon the Princess
Emma, and it was quite evident that he was much puzzled
to account for her presence with the king.  She was sup-
posed to be at Tann, and Butzow knew well enough her
estimate of Leopold to know that she would not be in his
company of her own volition.  His expression as he addressed
the man he supposed to be his king was far from deferen-
tial.  Barney could scarce repress a smile.

"We will ride at once to the palace," he said.  "At the
gate you may instruct one of your sergeants to telephone to
will act as our escort."

Butzow saluted and turned to his troopers, giving the
necessary commands that brought them about in the wake
of the pseudo-king.  Once again Barney Custer, of Beatrice,
rode into Lustadt as king of Lutha.  The few people upon
the streets turned to look at him as he passed, but there
was little demonstration of love or enthusiasm.

Leopold had awakened no emotions of this sort in the
hearts of his subjects.  Some there were who still remembered
the gallant actions of their ruler on the field of battle when
his forces had defeated those of the regent, upon that other
occasion when this same American had sat upon the
throne of Lutha for two days and had led the little army
to victory; but since then the true king had been with them
daily in his true colors.  Arrogance, haughtiness, and petty
tyranny had marked his reign.  Taxes had gone even higher
than under the corrupt influence of the Blentz regime.
The king's days were spent in bed; his nights in dissipation.
Old Ludwig von der Tann seemed Lutha's only friend at
court.  Him the people loved and trusted.

It was the old chancellor who met them as they entered
the palace--the Princess Emma, Lieutenant Butzow, and
the false king.  As the old man's eyes fell upon his daughter,
he gave an exclamation of surprise and of incredulity.  He
looked from her to the American.

"What is the meaning of this, your majesty?" he cried in
a voice hoarse with emotion.  "What does her highness in
your company?"

There was neither fear nor respect in Prince Ludwig's
tone--only anger.  He was demanding an accounting from
Leopold, the man; not from Leopold, the king.  Barney
raised his hand.

"Wait," he said, "before you judge.  The princess was
brought to Blentz by Prince Peter.  She will tell you that I
have aided her to escape and that I have accorded her only
such treatment as a woman has a right to expect from a
king."

The girl inclined her head.

"His majesty has been most kind," she said.  "He has
treated me with every consideration and respect, and I am
convinced that he was not a willing party to my arrest and
forcible detention at Blentz; or," she added, "if he was, he
regretted his action later and has made full reparation by
bringing me to Lustadt."

Prince von der Tann found difficulty in hiding his surprise
at this evidence of chivalry in the cowardly king.  But for
his daughter's testimony he could not have believed it pos-
sible that it lay within the nature of Leopold of Lutha to
have done what he had done within the past few hours.

He bowed low before the man who wore the king's uni-
form.  The American extended his hand, and Von der Tann,
taking it in his own, raised it to his lips.

"And now," said Barney briskly, "let us go to my apart-
ments and get to work.  Your highness"--and he turned to-
ward the Princess Emma--"must be greatly fatigued.  Lieu-
tenant Butzow, you will see that a suite is prepared for her
highness.  Afterward you may call upon Count Zellerndorf,
whom I understand returned to Lustadt yesterday, and noti-
fy him that I will receive him in an hour.  Inform the Serbian
minister that I desire his presence at the palace immediately.
Lose no time, lieutenant, and be sure to impress upon the
Serbian minister that immediately means immediately."

Butzow saluted and the Princess Emma curtsied, as the
king turned and, slipping his arm through that of Prince
Ludwig, walked away in the direction of the royal apart-
ments.  Once at the king's desk Barney turned toward the
chancellor.  In his mind was the determination to save Lutha
if Lutha could be saved.  He had been forced to place the
king in a position where he would be helpless, though that
he would have been equally as helpless upon his throne the
American did not doubt for an instant.  However, the course
of events had placed within his hands the power to serve
not only Lutha but the house of Von der Tann as well.  He
would do in the king's place what the king should have
done if the king had been a man.

"Now, Prince Ludwig," he said, "tell me just what con-
ditions we must face.  Remember that I have been at Blentz
and that there the King of Lutha is not apt to learn all
that transpires in Lustadt."

"Sire," replied the chancellor, "we face a grave crisis.  Not
only is there within Lutha the small force of Austrian troops
that surround Blentz, but now an entire army corps has
crossed the border.  Unquestionably they are marching on
Lustadt.  The emperor is going to take no chances.  He sent
the first force into Lutha to compel Serbian intervention and
draw Serbian troops from the Austro-Serbian battle line.
Serbia has withheld her forces at my request, but she will
not withhold them for long.  We must make a declaration
at once.  If we declare against Austria we are faced by the
menace of the Austrian troops already within our bound-
aries, but we shall have Serbia to help us.

"A Serbian army corps is on the frontier at this moment
awaiting word from Lutha.  If it is adverse to Austria that
army corps will cross the border and march to our assist-
ance.  If it is favorable to Austria it will none the less cross
into Lutha, but as enemies instead of allies.  Serbia has
acted honorably toward Lutha.  She has not violated our
neutrality.  She has no desire to increase her possessions in
this direction.

"On the other hand, Austria has violated her treaty with
us.  She has marched troops into our country and occupied
the town of Blentz.  Constantly in the past she has incited
internal discord.  She is openly championing the Blentz
cause, which at last I trust your majesty has discovered is
inimical to your interests.

"If Austria is victorious in her war with Serbia, she will
find some pretext to hold Lutha whether Lutha takes her
stand either for or against her.  And most certainly is this
true if it occurs that Austrian troops are still within the
boundaries of Lutha when peace is negotiated.  Not only our
honor but our very existence demands that there be no
Austrian troops in Lutha at the close of this war.  If we
cannot force them across the border we can at least make
such an effort as will win us the respect of the world and
a voice in the peace negotiations.

"If we must bow to the surrender of our national integrity,
let us do so only after we have exhausted every resource of
the country in our country's defense.  In the past your majesty
has not appeared to realize the menace of your most power-
ful neighbor.  I beg of you, sire, to trust me.  Believe that I
have only the interests of Lutha at heart, and let us work
together for the salvation of our country and your majesty's
throne."

Barney laid his hand upon the old man's shoulder.  It
seemed a shame to carry the deception further, but the
American well knew that only so could he accomplish aught
for Lutha or the Von der Tanns.  Once the old chancellor
suspected the truth as to his identity he would be the first
to denounce him.

"I think that you and I can work together, Prince Lud-
wig," he said.  "I have sent for the Serbian and Austrian
ministers.  The former should be here immediately."

Nor did they have long to wait before the tall Slav was
announced.  Barney lost no time in getting down to business.
He asked no questions.  What Von der Tann had told him,
what he had seen with his own eyes since he had entered
Lutha, and what he had overheard in the inn at Burgova
was sufficient evidence that the fate of Lutha hung upon
the prompt and energetic decisions of the man who sat
upon Lutha's throne for the next few days.

Had Leopold been the present incumbent Lutha would
have been lost, for that he would play directly into the
hands of Austria was not to be questioned.  Were Von der
Tann to seize the reins of government a state of revolution
would exist that would divide the state into two bitter
factions, weaken its defense, and give Austria what she most
desired--a plausible pretext for intervention.

Lutha's only hope lay in united defense of her liberties
under the leadership of the one man whom all acknowledged
king--Leopold.  Very well, Barney Custer, of Beatrice, would
be Leopold for a few days, since the real Leopold had
proven himself incompetent to meet the emergency.

General Petko, the Serbian minister to Lutha, brought to
the audience the memory of a series of unpleasant encounters
with the king.  Leopold had never exerted himself to hide
his pro-Austrian sentiments.  Austria was a powerful country
--Serbia, a relatively weak neighbor.  Leopold, being a royal
snob, had courted the favor of the emperor and turned up
his nose at Serbia.  The general was prepared for a repetition
of the veiled affronts that Leopold delighted in according
him; but this time he brought with him a reply that for
two years he had been living in the hope of some day being
able to deliver to the young monarch he so cordially de-
spised.

It was an ultimatum from his government--an ultimatum
couched in terms from which all diplomatic suavity had
been stripped.  If Barney Custer, of Beatrice, could have
read it he would have smiled, for in plain American it might
have been described as announcing to Leopold precisely
"where he got off."  But Barney did not have the opportunity
to read it, since that ultimatum was never delivered.

Barney took the wind all out of it by his first words.  "Your
excellency may wonder why it is that we have summoned
you at such an early hour," he said.

General Petko inclined his head in deferential acknowl-
edgment of the truth of the inference.

"It is because we have learned from our chancellor,"
continued the American, "that Serbia has mobilized an en-
tire army corps upon the Luthanian frontier.  Am I correctly
informed?"

General Petko squared his shoulders and bowed in assent.
At the same time he reached into his breast-pocket for the
ultimatum.

"Good!" exclaimed Barney, and then he leaned close to
the ear of the Serbian.  "How long will it take to move that
army corps to Lustadt?"

General Petko gasped and returned the ultimatum to his
pocket.

"Sire!" he cried, his face lighting with incredulity.  "You
mean--"

"I mean," said the American, "that if Serbia will loan
Lutha an army corps until the Austrians have evacuated
Luthanian territory, Lutha will loan Serbia an army corps
until such time as peace is declared between Serbia and
Austria.  Other than this neither government will incur any
obligations to the other.

"We may not need your help, but it will do us no harm
to have them well on the way toward Lustadt as quickly as
possible.  Count Zellerndorf will be here in a few minutes.
We shall, through him, give Austria twenty-four hours to
withdraw all her troops beyond our frontiers.  The army of
Lutha is mobilized before Lustadt.  It is not a large army,
but with the help of Serbia it should be able to drive the
Austrians from the country, provided they do not leave of
their own accord."

General Petko smiled.  So did the American and the chan-
cellor.  Each knew that Austria would not withdraw her
army from Lutha.

"With your majesty's permission I will withdraw," said
the Serbian, "and transmit Lutha's proposition to my gov-
ernment; but I may say that your majesty need have no
apprehension but that a Serbian army corps will be crossing
into Lutha before noon today."

"And now, Prince Ludwig," said the American after the
Serbian had bowed himself out of the apartment, "I sug-
gest that you take immediate steps to entrench a strong
force north of Lustadt along the road to Blentz."

Von der Tann smiled as he replied.  "It is already done,
sire," he said.

"But I passed in along the road this morning," said Bar-
ney, "and saw nothing of such preparations."

"The trenches and the soldiers were there, nevertheless,
sire," replied the old man, "only a little gap was left on
either side of the highway that those who came and went
might not suspect our plans and carry word of them to
the Austrians.  A few hours will complete the link across
the road."

"Good!  Let it be completed at once.  Here is Count Zel-
lerndorf now," as the minister was announced.

Von der Tann bowed himself out as the Austrian entered
the king's presence.  For the first time in two years the
chancellor felt that the destiny of Lutha was safe in the
hands of her king.  What had caused the metamorphosis
in Leopold he could not guess.  He did not seem to be the
same man that had whined and growled at their last audi-
ence a week before.

The Austrian minister entered the king's presence with an
expression of ill-concealed surprise upon his face.  Two days
before he had left Leopold safely ensconced at Blentz,
where he was to have remained indefinitely.  He glanced
hurriedly about the room in search of Prince Peter or an-
other of the conspirators who should have been with the
king.  He saw no one.  The king was speaking.  The Austrian's
eyes went wider, not only at the words, but at the tone of
voice.

"Count Zellerndorf," said the American, "you were doubt-
less aware of the embarrassment under which the king of
Lutha was compelled at Blentz to witness the entry of a
foreign army within his domain.  But we are not now at
Blentz.  We have summoned you that you may receive from
us, and transmit to your emperor, the expression of our
surprise and dismay at the unwarranted violation of Luth-
anian neutrality."

"But, your majesty--" interrupted the Austrian.

"But nothing, your excellency," snapped the American.
"The moment for diplomacy is passed; the time for action
has come.  You will oblige us by transmitting to your govern-
ment at once a request that every Austrian soldier now in
Lutha be withdrawn by noon tomorrow."

Zellerndorf looked his astonishment.

"Are you mad, sire?" he cried.  "It will mean war!"

"It is what Austria has been looking for," snapped the
American, "and what people look for they usually get, es-
pecially if they chance to be looking for trouble.  When can
you expect a reply from Vienna?"

"By noon, your majesty," replied the Austrian, "but are
you irretrievably bound to your present policy?  Remember
the power of Austria, sire.  Think of your throne.  Think--"

"We have thought of everything," interrupted Barney.
"A throne means less to us than you may imagine, count;
but the honor of Lutha means a great deal."



XI

THE BATTLE

AT FIVE o'clock that afternoon the sidewalks bordering Mar-
garetha Street were crowded with promenaders.  The little
tables before the cafes were filled.  Nearly everyone spoke
of the great war and of the peril which menaced Lutha.
Upon many a lip was open disgust at the supine attitude
of Leopold of Lutha in the face of an Austrian invasion of
his country.  Discontent was open.  It was ripening to some-
thing worse for Leopold than an Austrian invasion.

Presently a sergeant of the Royal Horse Guards cantered
down the street from the palace.  He stopped here and there,
and, dismounting, tacked placards in conspicuous places.  At
the notice, and in each instance cheers and shouting fol-
lowed the sergeant as he rode on to the next stop.

Now, at each point men and women were gathered,
eagerly awaiting an explanation of the jubilation farther up
the street.  Those whom the sergeant passed called to him
for an explanation, and not receiving it, followed in a quickly
growing mob that filled Margaretha Street from wall to
wall.  When he dismounted he had almost to fight his way
to the post or door upon which he was to tack the next
placard.  The crowd surged about him in its anxiety to
read what the placard bore, and then, between the cheering
and yelling, those in the front passed back to the crowd the
tidings that filled them with so great rejoicing.

"Leopold has declared war on Austria!"  "The king calls
for volunteers!"  "Long live the king!"


The battle of Lustadt has passed into history.  Outside of
the little kingdom of Lutha it received but passing notice
by the world at large, whose attention was riveted upon the
great conflicts along the banks of the Meuse, the Marne,
and the Aisne.  But in Lutha!  Ah, it will be told and re-
told, handed down from mouth to mouth and from genera-
tion to generation to the end of time.

How the cavalry that the king sent north toward Blentz
met the advancing Austrian army.  How, fighting, they fell
back upon the infantry which lay, a thin line that stretched
east and west across the north of Lustadt, in its first line of
trenches.  A pitifully weak line it was, numerically, in com-
parison with the forces of the invaders; but it stood its
ground heroically, and from the heights to the north of
the city the fire from the forts helped to hold the enemy
in check for many hours.

And then the enemy succeeded in bringing up their
heavy artillery to the ridge that lies three miles north of
the forts.  Shells were bursting in the trenches, the forts, and
the city.  To the south a stream of terror-stricken refugees
was pouring out of Lustadt along the King's Road.  Rich
and poor, animated by a common impulse, filled the narrow
street that led to the city's southern gate.  Carts drawn by
dogs, laden donkeys, French limousines, victorias, wheel-
barrows--every conceivable wheeled vehicle and beast of
burden--were jammed in a seemingly inextricable tangle in
the mad rush for safety.

Rumor passed back and forth through the fleeing thou-
sands.  Now came word that Fort No. 2 had been silenced
by the Austrian guns.  Immediately followed news that the
Luthanian line was falling back upon the city.  Fear turned
to panic.  Men fought to outdistance their neighbors.

A shell burst upon a roof-top in an adjoining square.

Women fainted and were trampled.  Hoarse shouts of
anger mingled with screams of terror, and then into the
midst of it from Margaretha Street rode a man on horse-
back.  Behind him were a score of officers.  A trumpeter
raised his instrument to his lips, and above the din of
the fleeing multitude rose the sharp, triple call that an-
nounces the coming of the king.  The mob halted and turned.

Looking down upon them from his saddle was Leopold
of Lutha.  His palm was raised for silence and there was a
smile upon his lips.  Quite suddenly, and as by a miracle,
fear left them.  They made a line for him and his staff to
ride through.  One of the officers turned in his saddle to
address a civilian friend in an automobile.

"His majesty is riding to the firing line," he said and he
raised his voice that many might hear.  Quickly the word
passed from mouth to mouth, and as Barney Custer, of
Beatrice, passed along Margaretha Street he was followed
by a mad din of cheering that drowned the booming of the
distant cannon and the bursting of the shells above the
city.

The balance of the day the pseudo-king rode back and
forth along his lines.  Three of his staff were killed and two
horses were shot from beneath him, but from the moment
that he appeared the Luthanian line ceased to waver or
fall back.  The advanced trenches that they had abandoned
to the Austrians they took again at the point of the bayonet.
Charge after charge they repulsed, and all the time there
hovered above the enemy Lutha's sole aeroplane, watching,
watching, ever watching for the coming of the allies.  Some-
where to the northeast the Serbians were advancing toward
Lustadt.  Would they come in time?

It was five o'clock in the morning of the second day, and
though the Luthanian line still held, Barney Custer knew
that it could not hold for long.  The Austrian artillery fire,
which had been rather wild the preceding day, had now
become of deadly accuracy.  Each bursting shell filled some
part of the trenches with dead and wounded, and though
their places were taken by fresh men from the reserve,
there would soon be no reserve left to call upon.

At his left, in the rear, the American had massed the
bulk of his reserves, and at the foot of the heights north of
the city and just below the forts the major portion of the
cavalry was drawn up in the shelter of a little ravine.  Bar-
ney's eyes were fixed upon the soaring aeroplane.

In his hand was his watch.  He would wait another fifteen
minutes, and if by then the signal had not come that the
Serbians were approaching, he would strike the blow that
he had decided upon.  From time to time he glanced at his
watch.

The fifteen minutes had almost elapsed when there flut-
tered from the tiny monoplane a paper parachute.  It dropped
for several hundred feet before it spread to the air pressure
and floated more gently toward the earth and a moment
later there burst from its basket a puff of white smoke.  Two
more parachutes followed the first and two more puffs of
smoke.  Then the machine darted rapidly off toward the
northeast.

Barney turned to Prince von der Tann with a smile.  "They
are none too soon," he said.

The old prince bowed in acquiescence.  He had been very
happy for two days.  Lutha might be defeated now, but she
could never be subdued.  She had a king at last--a real
king.  Gott!  How he had changed.  It reminded Prince von
der Tann of the day he had ridden beside the imposter two
years before in the battle with the forces of Peter of Blentz.
Many times he had caught himself scrutinizing the face of
the monarch, searching for some proof that after all he
was not Leopold.

"Direct the commanders of forts three and four to con-
centrate their fire on the enemy's guns directly north of Fort
No. 3," Barney directed an aide.  "Simultaneously let the
cavalry and Colonel Kazov's infantry make a determined as-
sault on the Austrian trenches."

Then he turned his horse toward the left of his line, where,
a little to the rear, lay the fresh troops that he had been
holding in readiness against this very moment.  As he gal-
loped across the plain, his staff at his heels, shrapnel burst
about them.  Von der Tann spurred to his side.

"Sire," he cried, "it is unnecessary that you take such
grave risks.  Your staff is ready and willing to perform such
service that you may be preserved to your people and your
throne."

"I believe the men fight better when they think their king
is watching them," said the American simply.

"I know it, sire," replied Von der Tann, "but even so,
Lutha could ill afford to lose you now.  I thank God, your
majesty, that I have lived to see this day--to see the last of
the Rubinroths upholding the glorious traditions of the
Rubinroth blood."

Barney led the reserves slowly through the wood to the
rear of the extreme left of his line.  The attack upon the
Austrian right center appeared to be meeting with much
greater success than the American dared to hope for.  Al-
ready, through his glasses, he could see indications that
the enemy was concentrating a larger force at this point to
repulse the vicious assaults of the Luthanians.  To do this
they must be drawing from their reserves back of other por-
tions of their line.

It was what Barney had desired.  The three bombs from
the aeroplane had told him that the Serbians had been
sighted three miles away.  Already they were engaging the
Austrians.  He could hear the rattle of rifles and quick-firers
and the roar of cannon far to the northeast.  And now he
gave the word to the commander of the reserve.

At a rapid trot the men moved forward behind the ex-
treme left end of the Luthanian left wing.  They were almost
upon the Austrians before they emerged from the shelter of
the wood, and then with hoarse shouts and leveled bayonets
they charged the enemy's position.  The fight there was the
bloodiest of the two long days.  Back and forth the tide of
battle surged.  In the thick of it rode the false king en-
couraging his men to greater effort.  Slowly at last they bore
the Austrians from their trenches.  Back and back they bore
them until retreat became a rout.  The Austrian right was
crumpled back upon its center!

Here the enemy made a determined stand; but just be-
fore dark a great shouting arose from the heights to their
left, where the bulk of their artillery was stationed.  Both the
Luthanian and Austrian troops engaged in the plain saw
Austrian infantry and artillery running down the slopes in
disorderly rout.  Upon their heads came a cheering line of
soldiers firing as they ran, and above them waved the battle-
flag of Serbia.

A mighty shout rose from the Luthanian ranks--an an-
swering groan from the throats of the Austrians.  Hemmed
in between the two lines of allies, the Austrians were help-
less.  Their artillery was captured, retreat cut off.  There was
but a single alternative to massacre--the white flag.

A few regiments between Lustadt and Blentz, but nearer
the latter town, escaped back into Austria, the balance Bar-
ney arranged with the Serbian minister to have taken back
to Serbia as prisoners of war.  The Luthanian army corps that
the American had promised the Serbs was to be utilized
along the Austrian frontier to prevent the passage of Austrian
troops into Serbia through Lutha.

The return to Lustadt after the battle was made through
cheering troops and along streets choked with joy-mad
citizenry.  The name of the soldier-king was upon every
tongue.  Men went wild with enthusiasm as the tall figure
rode slowly through the crowd toward the palace.

Von der Tann, grim and martial, found his lids damp with
the moisture of a great happiness.  Even now with all the
proofs of reality about him, it seemed impossible that this
scene could be aught but the ephemeral vapors of a dream
--that Leopold of Lutha, the coward, the craven, could
have become in a single day the heroic figure that had
loomed so large upon the battlefield of Lustadt--the simple,
modest gentleman who received the plaudits of his subjects
with bowed head and humble mien.

As Barney Custer rode up Margaretha Street toward the
royal palace of the kings of Lutha, a dust-covered horseman
in the uniform of an officer of the Horse Guards entered
Lustadt from the south.  It was the young aide of Prince
von der Tann's staff, who had been sent to Blentz nearly a
week earlier with a message for the king, and who had
been captured and held by the Austrians.

During the battle before Lustadt all the Austrian troops
had been withdrawn from Blentz and hurried to the front.
It was then that the aide had been transferred to the castle,
from which he had escaped early that morning.  To reach
Lustadt he had been compelled to circle the Austrian posi-
tion, coming to Lustadt from the south.

Once within the city he rode straight to the palace, flung
himself from his jaded mount, and entered the left wing of
the building--the wing in which the private apartments of
the chancellor were located.

Here he inquired for the Princess Emma, learning with
evident relief that she was there.  A moment later, white
with dust, his face streamed with sweat, he was ushered
into her presence.

"Your highness," he blurted, "the king's commands have
been disregarded--the American is to be shot tomorrow.  I
have just escaped from Blentz.  Peter is furious.  He realizes
that whether the Austrians win or lose, his standing with
the king is gone forever.

"In a fit of rage he has ordered that Mr. Custer be sacri-
ficed to his desire for revenge, in the hope that it will in-
sure for him the favor of the Austrians.  Something must be
done at once if he is to be saved."

For a moment the girl swayed as though about to fall.
The young officer stepped quickly to support her, but be-
fore he reached her side she had regained complete mastery
of herself.  From the street without there rose the blare of
trumpets and the cheering of the populace.

Through senses numb with the cold of anguish the mean-
ing of the tumult slowly filtered to her brain--the king had
come.  He was returning from the battlefield, covered with
honors and flushed with glory--the man who was to be
her husband; but there was no rejoicing in the heart of the
Princess Emma.

Instead, there was a dull ache and impotent rebellion
at the injustice of the thing--that Leopold should be reap-
ing these great rewards, while he who had made it possible
for him to be a king at all was to die on the morrow be-
cause of what he had done to place the Rubinroth upon
his throne.

"Perhaps Lieutenant Butzow might find a way," suggested
the officer.  "He or your father; they are both fond of Mr.
Custer."

"Yes," said the girl dully, "see Lieutenant Butzow--he
would do the most."

The officer bowed and hastened from the apartment in
search of Butzow.  The girl approached the window and
stood there for a long time, looking out at the surging multi-
tude that pressed around the palace gates, filling Margaretha
Street with a solid mass of happy faces.

They cheered the king, the chancellor, the army; but most
often they cheered the king.  From a despised monarch Leo-
pold had risen in a single bound to the position of a national
idol.

Repeatedly he was called to the balcony over the grand
entrance that the people might feast their eyes on him.  The
princess wondered how long it was before she herself would
be forced to offer her congratulations and, perchance, suffer
his caresses.  She shivered and cringed at the thought, and
then there came a knock upon the door, and in answer to
her permission it opened, and the king stood upon the
threshold alone.

At a glance the man took in the pain and sorrow mir-
rored upon the girl's face.  He stepped quickly across the
room toward her.

"What is it?" he asked.  "What is the matter?"

For a moment he had forgotten the part that he had
been playing--forgot that the Princess Emma was ignorant
of his identity.  He had come to her to share with her the
happiness of the hour--the glory of the victorious arms of
Lutha.  For a time he had almost forgotten that he was not
the king, and now he was forgetting that he was not Barney
Custer to the girl who stood before him with misery and
hopelessness writ so large upon her countenance.

For a brief instant the girl did not reply.  She was weigh-
ing the problematical value of an attempt to enlist the king
in the cause of the American.  Leopold had shown a spark of
magnanimity when he had written a pardon for Mr. Custer;
might he not rise again above his petty jealousy and save
the American's life?  It was a forlorn hope to the woman
who knew the true Leopold so well; but it was a hope.

"What is the matter?" the king repeated.

"I have just received word that Prince Peter has ignored
your commands, sire," replied the girl, "and that Mr. Custer
is to be shot tomorrow."

Barney's eyes went wide with incredulity.  Here was a
pretty pass, indeed!  The princess came close to him and
seized his arm.

"You promised, sire," she said, "that he would not be
harmed--you gave your royal word.  You can save him.  You
have an army at your command.  Do not forget that he
once saved you."

The note of appeal in her voice and the sorrow in her
eyes gave Barney Custer a twinge of compunction.  The
necessity for longer concealing his identity in so far as the
salvation of Lutha was concerned seemed past; but the
American had intended to carry the deception to the end.

He had given the matter much thought, but he could find
no grounds for belief that Emma von der Tann would be
any happier in the knowledge that her future husband had
had nothing to do with the victory of his army.  If she was
doomed to a life at his side, why not permit her the grain
of comfort that she might derive from the memory of her
husband's achievements upon the battlefield of Lustadt?  Why
rob her of that little?

But now, face to face with her, and with the evidence of
her suffering so plain before him, Barney's intentions wa-
vered.  Like most fighting men, he was tender in his dealings
with women.  And now the last straw came in the form of a
single tiny tear that trickled down the girl's cheek.  He
seized the hand that lay upon his arm.

"Your highness," he said, "do not grieve for the American.
He is not worth it.  He has deceived you.  He is not at
Blentz."

The girl drew her hand from his and straightened to her
full height.

"What do you mean, sire?" she exclaimed.  "Mr. Custer
would not deceive me even if he had an opportunity--which
he has not had.  But if he is not at Blentz, where is he?"

Barney bowed his head and looked at the floor.

"He is here, your highness, asking your forgiveness," he
said.

There was a puzzled expression upon the girl's face as
she looked at the man before her.  She did not understand.
Why should she?  Barney drew a diamond ring from his
little finger and held it out to her.

"You gave it to me to cut a hole in the window of the
garage where I stole the automobile," he said.  "I forgot to
return it.  Now do you know who I am?"

Emma von der Tann's eyes showed her incredulity; then,
act by act, she recalled all that this man had said and
done since they had escaped from Blentz that had been
so unlike the king she knew.

"When did you assume the king's identity?" she asked.

Barney told her all that had transpired in the king's apart-
ments at Blentz before she had been conducted to the
king's presence.

"And Leopold is there now?" she asked.

"He is there," replied Barney, "and he is to be shot in
the morning."

"Gott!" exclaimed the girl.  "What are we to do?"

"There is but one thing to do," replied the American,
"and that is for Butzow and me to ride to Blentz as fast as
horses will carry us and rescue the king."

"And then?" asked the girl, a shadow crossing her face.

"And then Barney Custer will have to beat it for the
boundary," he replied with a sorry smile.

She came quite close to him, laying her hands upon his
shoulders.

"I cannot give you up now," she said simply.  "I have
tried to be loyal to Leopold and the promise that my father
made his king when I was only a little girl; but since I
thought that you were to be shot, I have wished a thousand
times that I had gone with you to America two years ago.
Take me with you now, Barney.  We can send Lieutenant
Butzow to rescue the king, and before he has returned we
can be safe across the Serbian frontier."

The American shook his head.

"I got the king into this mess and I must get him out,"
he said.  "He may deserve to be shot, but it is up to me
to prevent it, if I can.  And there is your father to consider.
If Butzow rides to Blentz and rescues the king, it may be
difficult to get him back to Lustadt without the truth of
his identity and mine becoming known.  With me there, the
change can be effected easily, and not even Butzow need
know what has happened.

"If the people should guess that it was not Leopold who
won the battle of Lustadt there might be the devil to pay,
and your father would go down along with the throne.  No,
I must stay until Leopold is safe in Lustadt.  But there is a
hope for us.  I may be able to wrest from Leopold his
sanction of our marriage.  I shall not hesitate to use threats
to get it, and I rather imagine that he will be in such a
terror-stricken condition that he will assent to any terms for
his release from Blentz.  If he gives me such a paper, Emma,
will you marry me?"

Perhaps there never had been a stranger proposal than
this; but to neither did it seem strange.  For two years each
had known the love of the other.  The girl's betrothal to
the king had prevented an avowal of their love while Barney
posed in his own identity.  Now they merely accepted the
conditions that had existed for two years as though a mat-
ter of fact which had been often discussed between them.

"Of course I'll marry you," said the princess.  "Why in the
world would I want you to take me to America otherwise?"

As Barney Custer took her in his arms he was happier
than he had ever before been in all his life, and so, too,
was the Princess Emma von der Tann.




XII

LEOPOLD WAITS FOR DAWN

AFTER THE American had shoved him through the secret
doorway into the tower room of the castle of Blentz, Leopold
had stood for several minutes waiting for the next command
from his captor.  Presently, hearing no sound other than that
of his own breathing, the king ventured to speak.  He asked
the American what he purposed doing with him next.

There was no reply.  For another minute the king listened
intently; then he raised his hands and removed the bandage
from his eyes.  He looked about him.  The room was vacant
except for himself.  He recognized it as the one in which he
had spent ten years of his life as a prisoner.  He shuddered.
What had become of the American?  He approached the
door and listened.  Beyond the panels he could hear the two
soldiers on guard there conversing.  He called to them.

"What do you want?" shouted one of the men through
the closed door.

"I want Prince Peter!" yelled the king.  "Send him at
once!"

The soldiers laughed.

"He wants Prince Peter," they mocked.  "Wouldn't you
rather have us send the king to you?" they asked.

"I am the king!" yelled Leopold.  "I am the king!  Open
the door, pigs, or it will go hard with you!  I shall have you
both shot in the morning if you do not open the door and
fetch Prince Peter."

"Ah!" exclaimed one of the soldiers.  "Then there will be
three of us shot together."

Leopold went white.  He had not connected the sentence
of the American with himself; but now, quite vividly, he
realized what it might mean to him if he failed before dawn
to convince someone that he was not the American.  Peter
would not be awake at so early an hour, and if he had no
better success with others than he was having with these
soldiers, it was possible that he might be led out and shot
before his identity was discovered.  The thing was prepos-
terous.  The king's knees became suddenly quite weak.  They
shook, and his legs gave beneath his weight so that he had
to lean against the back of a chair to keep from falling.

Once more he turned to the soldiers.  This time he pleaded
with them, begging them to carry word to Prince Peter that
a terrible mistake had been made, and that it was the king
and not the American who was confined in the death cham-
ber.  But the soldiers only laughed at him, and finally threat-
ened to come in and beat him if he again interrupted their
conversation.

It was a white and shaken prisoner that the officer of the
guard found when he entered the room at dawn.  The man
before him, his face streaked with tears of terror and self-
pity, fell upon his knees before him, beseeching him to carry
word to Peter of Blentz, that he was the king.  The officer
drew away with a gesture of disgust.

"I might well believe from your actions that you are Leo-
pold," he said; "for, by Heaven, you do not act as I have
always imagined the American would act in the face of
danger.  He has a reputation for bravery that would suffer
could his admirers see him now."

"But I am not the American," pleaded the king.  "I tell
you that the American came to my apartments last night,
overpowered me, forced me to change clothing with him,
and then led me back here."

A sudden inspiration came to the king with the memory
of all that had transpired during that humiliating encounter
with the American.

"I signed a pardon for him!" he cried.  "He forced me to
do so.  If you think I am the American, you cannot kill me
now, for there is a pardon signed by the king, and an order
for the American's immediate release.  Where is it?  Do not
tell me that Prince Peter did not receive it."

"He received it," replied the officer, "and I am here to
acquaint you with the fact, but Prince Peter said nothing
about your release.  All he told me was that you were not to
be shot this morning," and the man emphasized the last two
words.

Leopold of Lutha spent two awful days a prisoner at
Blentz, not knowing at what moment Prince Peter might
see fit to carry out the verdict of the Austrian court martial.
He could convince no one that he was the king.  Peter would
not even grant him an audience.  Upon the evening of the
third day, word came that the Austrians had been defeated
before Lustadt, and those that were not prisoners were re-
treating through Blentz toward the Austrian frontier.

The news filtered to Leopold's prison room through the
servant who brought him his scant and rough fare.  The king
was utterly disheartened before this word reached him.  For
the moment he seemed to see a ray of hope, for, since the
impostor had been victorious, he would be in a position to
force Peter of Blentz to give up the true king.

There was the chance that the American, flushed with
success and power, might elect to hold the crown he had
seized.  Who would guess the transfer that had been ef-
fected, or, guessing, would dare voice his suspicions in the
face of the power and popularity that Leopold knew such a
victory as the impostor had won must have given him in
the hearts and minds of the people of Lutha?  Still, there
was a bare possibility that the American would be as good
as his word, and return the crown as he had promised.
Though he hated to admit it, the king had every reason to
believe that the impostor was a man of honor, whose bare
word was as good as another's bond.

He was commencing, under this line of reasoning, to
achieve a certain hopeful content when the door to his prison
opened and Peter of Blentz, black and scowling, entered.
At his elbow was Captain Ernst Maenck.

"Leopold has defeated the Austrians," announced the
former.  "Until you returned to Lutha he considered the Aus-
trians his best friends.  I do not know how you could have
reached or influenced him.  It is to learn how you accom-
plished it that I am here.  The fact that he signed your
pardon indicates that his attitude toward you changed sud-
denly--almost within an hour.  There is something at the
bottom of it all, and that something I must know."

"I am Leopold!" cried the king.  "Don't you recognize me,
Prince Peter?  Look at me!  Maenck must know me.  It was I
who wrote and signed the American's pardon--at the point
of the American's revolver.  He forced me to exchange cloth-
ing with him, and then he brought me here to this room
and left me."

The two men looked at the speaker and smiled.

"You bank too strongly, my friend," said Peter of Blentz,
"upon your resemblance to the king of Lutha.  I will admit
that it is strong, but not so strong as to convince me of the
truth of so improbable a story.  How in the world could the
American have brought you through the castle, from one
end to the other, unseen?  There was a guard before the
king's door and another before this.  No, Herr Custer, you
will have to concoct a more plausible tale.

"No," and Peter of Blentz scowled savagely, as though to
impress upon his listener the importance of his next utterance,
"there were more than you and the king involved in his
sudden departure from Blentz and in his hasty change of
policy toward Austria.  To be quite candid, it seems to me
that it may be necessary to my future welfare--vitally neces-
sary, I may say--to know precisely how all this occurred,
and just what influence you have over Leopold of Lutha.
Who was it that acted as the go-between in the king's nego-
tiations with you, or rather, yours with the king?  And what
argument did you bring to bear to force Leopold to the
action he took?"

"I have told you all that I know about the matter,"
whined the king.  "The American appeared suddenly in my
apartment.  When he brought me here he first blindfolded
me.  I have no idea by what route we traveled through the
castle, and unless your guards outside this door were bribed
they can tell you more about how we got in here than I
can--provided we entered through that doorway," and the
king pointed to the door which had just opened to admit
his two visitors.

"Oh, pshaw!" exclaimed Maenck.  "There is but one door
to this room--if the king came in here at all, he came
through that door."

"Enough!" cried Peter of Blentz.  "I shall not be trifled
with longer.  I shall give you until tomorrow morning to make
a full explanation of the truth and to form some plan whereby
you may utilize once more whatever influence you had
over Leopold to the end that he grant to myself and my
associates his royal assurance that our lives and property
will be safe in Lutha."

"But I tell you it is impossible," wailed the king.

"I think not," sneered Prince Peter, "especially when I tell
you that if you do not accede to my wishes the order of the
Austrian military court that sentenced you to death at Bur-
gova will be carried out in the morning."

With his final words the two men turned and left the
room.  Behind them, upon the floor, inarticulate with terror,
knelt Leopold of Lutha, his hands outstretched in supplica-
tion.

The long night wore its weary way to dawn at last.  The
sleepless man, alternately tossing upon his bed and pacing
the floor, looked fearfully from time to time at the window
through which the lightening of the sky would proclaim the
coming day and his last hour on earth.  His windows faced
the west.  At the foot of the hill beneath the castle nestled
the village of Blentz, once more enveloped in peaceful si-
lence since the Austrians were gone.

An unmistakable lessening of the darkness in the east
had just announced the proximity of day, when the king
heard a clatter of horses' hoofs upon the road before the
castle.  The sound ceased at the gates and a loud voice broke
out upon the stillness of the dying night demanding en-
trance "in the name of the king."

New hope burst aflame in the breast of the condemned
man.  The impostor had not forsaken him.  Leopold ran to
the window, leaning far out.  He heard the voices of the
sentries in the barbican as they conversed with the new-
comers.  Then silence came, broken only by the rapid foot-
steps of a soldier hastening from the gate to the castle.  His
hobnail shoes pounding upon the cobbles of the courtyard
echoed among the angles of the lofty walls.  When he had
entered the castle the silence became oppressive.  For five
minutes there was no sound other than the pawing of the
horses outside the barbican and the subdued conversation
of their riders.

Presently the soldier emerged from the castle.  With him
was an officer.  The two went to the barbican.  Again there
was a parley between the horsemen and the guard.  Leo-
pold could hear the officer demanding terms.  He would
lower the drawbridge and admit them upon conditions.

One of these the king overheard--it concerned an assur-
ance of full pardon for Peter of Blentz and the garrison; and
again Leopold heard the officer addressing someone as "your
majesty."

Ah, the impostor was there in person.  Ach, Gott!  How
Leopold of Lutha hated him, and yet, in the hands of this
American lay not only his throne but his very life as well.

Evidently the negotiations proved unsuccessful for after a
time the party wheeled their horses from the gate and rode
back toward Blentz.  As the sound of the iron-shod hoofs
diminished in the distance, with them diminished the hopes
of the king.

When they ceased entirely his hopes were at an end,
to be supplanted by renewed terror at the turning of the
knob of his prison door as it swung open to admit Maenck
and a squad of soldiers.

"Come!" ordered the captain.  "The king has refused to
intercede in your behalf.  When he returns with his army he
will find your body at the foot of the west wall in the court-
yard."

With an ear-piercing shriek that rang through the grim
old castle, Leopold of Lutha flung his arms above his head
and lunged forward upon his face.  Roughly the soldiers
seized the unconscious man and dragged him from the room.

Along the corridor they hauled him and down the wind-
ing stairs within the north tower to the narrow slit of a
door that opened upon the courtyard.  To the foot of the
west wall they brought him, tossing him brutally to the stone
flagging.  Here one of the soldiers brought a flagon of water
and dashed it in the face of the king.  The cold douche re-
turned Leopold to a consciousness of the nearness of his
impending fate.

He saw the little squad of soldiers before him.  He saw
the cold, gray wall behind, and, above, the cold, gray sky
of early dawn.  The dismal men leaning upon their shadowy
guns seemed unearthly specters in the weird light of the
hour that is neither God's day nor devil's night.  With diffi-
culty two of them dragged Leopold to his feet.

Then the dismal men formed in line before him at the
opposite side of the courtyard.  Maenck stood to the left of
them.  He was giving commands.  They fell upon the doomed
man's ears with all the cruelty of physical blows.  Tears
coursed down his white cheeks.  With incoherent mumblings
he begged for his life.  Leopold, King of Lutha, trembling
in the face of death!




XIII

THE TWO KINGS

TWENTY TROOPERS had ridden with Lieutenant Butzow and
the false king from Lustadt to Blentz.  During the long, hard
ride there had been little or no conversation between the
American and his friend, for Butzow was still unsuspicious
of the true identity of the man who posed as the ruler of
Lutha.  The lieutenant was all anxiety to reach Blentz and
rescue the American he thought imprisoned there and in
danger of being shot.

At the gate they were refused admittance unless the king
would accept conditions.  Barney refused--there was another
way to gain entrance to Blentz that not even the master of
Blentz knew.  Butzow urged him to accede to anything to
save the life of the American.  He recalled all that the latter
had done in the service of Lutha and Leopold.  Barney leaned
close to the other's ear.

"If they have not already shot him," he whispered, "we
shall save the prisoner yet.  Let them think that we give up
and are returning to Lustadt.  Then follow me."

Slowly the little cavalcade rode down from the castle of
Blentz toward the village.  Just out of sight of the grim pile
where the road wound down into a ravine Barney turned
his horse's head up the narrow defile.  In single file Butzow
and the troopers followed until the rank undergrowth pre-
cluded farther advance.  Here the American directed that
they dismount, and, leaving the horses in charge of three
troopers, set out once more with the balance of the com-
pany on foot.

It was with difficulty that the men forced their way
through the bushes, but they had not gone far when their
leader stopped before a sheer wall of earth and stone, cov-
ered with densely growing shrubbery.  Here he groped in
the dim light, feeling his way with his hands before him,
while at his heels came his followers.  At last he separated
a wall of bushes and disappeared within the aperture his
hands had made.  One by one his men followed, finding
themselves in inky darkness, but upon a smooth stone floor
and with stone walls close upon either hand.  Those who
lifted their hands above their heads discovered an arched
stone ceiling close above them.

Along this buried corridor the "king" led them, for though
he had never traversed it himself the Princess Emma had,
and from her he had received minute directions.  Occasionally
he struck a match, and presently in the fitful glare of one of
these he and those directly behind him saw the foot of a
ladder that disappeared in the Stygian darkness above.

"Follow me up this, very quietly," he said to those behind
him.  "Up to the third landing."

They did as he bid them.  At the third landing Barney
felt for the latch he knew was there--he was on familiar
ground now.  Finding it he pushed open the door it held in
place, and through a tiny crack surveyed the room beyond.
It was vacant.  The American threw the door wide and
stepped within.  Directly behind him was Butzow, his eyes
wide in wonderment.  After him filed the troopers until
seventeen of them stood behind their lieutenant and the
"king."

Through the window overlooking the courtyard came a
piteous wailing.  Barney ran to the casement and looked out.
Butzow was at his side.

"Himmel!" ejaculated the Luthanian.  "They are about to
shoot him.  Quick, your majesty," and without waiting to see
if he were followed the lieutenant raced for the door of the
apartment.  Close behind him came the American and the
seventeen.

It took but a moment to reach the stairway down which
the rescuers tumbled pell-mell.

Maenck was giving his commands to the firing squad
with fiendish deliberation and delay.  He seemed to enjoy
dragging out the agony that the condemned man suffered.
But it was this very cruelty that caused Maenck's undoing
and saved the life of Leopold of Lutha.  Just before he gave
the word to fire Maenck paused and laughed aloud at the
pitiable figure trembling and whining against the stone wall
before him, and during that pause a commotion arose at
the tower doorway behind the firing squad.

Maenck turned to discover the cause of the interruption,
and as he turned he saw the figure of the king leaping to-
ward him with leveled revolver.  At the king's back a com-
pany of troopers of the Royal Horse Guard was pouring
into the courtyard.

Maenck snatched his own revolver from his hip and fired
point-blank at the "king."  The firing squad had turned at the
sound of assault from the rear.  Some of them discharged
their pieces at the advancing troopers.  Butzow gave a com-
mand and seventeen carbines poured their deadly hail into
the ranks of the Blentz retainers.  At Maenck's shot the "king"
staggered and fell to the pavement.

Maenck leaped across his prostrate form, yelling to his
men "Shoot the American."  Then he was lost to Barney's
sight in the hand-to-hand scrimmage that was taking place.
The American tried to regain his feet, but the shock of the
wound in his breast had apparently paralyzed him for the
moment.  A Blentz soldier was running toward the prisoner
standing open-mouthed against the wall.  The fellow's rifle
was raised to his hip--his intention was only too obvious.

Barney drew himself painfully and slowly to one elbow.
The man was rapidly nearing the true Leopold.  In another
moment he would shoot.  The American raised his revolver
and, taking careful aim, fired.  The soldier shrieked, covered
his face with his hands, spun around once, and dropped at
the king's feet.

The troopers under Butzow were forcing the men of Blentz
toward the far end of the courtyard.  Two of the Blentz fac-
tion were standing a little apart, backing slowly away and at
the same time deliberately firing at the king.  Barney seemed
the only one who noticed them.  Once again he raised his
revolver and fired.  One of the men sat down suddenly, looked
vacantly about him, and then rolled over upon his side.  The
other fired once more at the king and the same instant
Barney fired at the soldier.  Soldier and king--would-be
assassin and his victim--fell simultaneously.  Barney gri-
maced.  The wound in his breast was painful.  He had done
his best to save the king.  It was no fault of his that he had
failed.  It was a long way to Beatrice.  He wondered if Emma
von der Tann would be on the station platform, awaiting
him--then he swooned.

Butzow and his seventeen had it all their own way in the
courtyard and castle of Blentz.  After the first resistance the
soldiery of Peter fled to the guardroom.  Butzow followed
them, and there they laid down their arms.  Then the lieu-
tenant returned to the courtyard to look for the king and
Barney Custer.  He found them both, and both were
wounded.  He had them carried to the royal apartments in
the north tower.  When Barney regained consciousness he
found the scowling portrait of the Blentz princess frowning
down upon him.  He lay upon a great bed where the soldiers,
thinking him king, had placed him.  Opposite him, against
the farther wall, the real king lay upon a cot.  Butzow was
working over him.

"Not so bad, after all, Barney," the lieutenant was saying.
"Only a flesh wound in the calf of the leg."

The king made no reply.  He was afraid to declare his
identity.  First he must learn the intentions of the impostor.
He only closed his eyes wearily.  Presently he asked a ques-
tion.

"Is he badly wounded?" and he indicated the figure upon
the great bed.

Butzow turned and crossed to where the American lay.
He saw that the latter's eyes were open and that he was
conscious.

"How does your majesty feel?" he asked.  There was more
respect in his tone than ever before.  One of the Blentz sol-
diers had told him how the "king," after being wounded by
Maenck, had raised himself upon his elbow and saved the
prisoner's life by shooting three of his assailants.

"I thought I was done for," answered Barney Custer, "but
I rather guess the bullet struck only a glancing blow.  It
couldn't have entered my lungs, for I neither cough nor
spit blood.  To tell you the truth, I feel surprisingly fit.
How's the prisoner?"

"Only a flesh wound in the calf of his left leg, sire," re-
plied Butzow.

"I am glad," was Barney's only comment.  He didn't want
to be king of Lutha; but he had foreseen that with the death
of the king his imposture might be forced upon him for life.

After Butzow and one of the troopers had washed and
dressed the wounds of both men Barney asked them to leave
the room.

"I wish to sleep," he said.  "If I require you I will ring."

Saluting, the two backed from the apartment.  Just as
they were passing through the doorway the American called
out to Butzow.

"You have Peter of Blentz and Maenck in custody?" he
asked.

"I regret having to report to your majesty," replied the
officer, "that both must have escaped.  A thorough search of
the entire castle has failed to reveal them."

Barney scowled.  He had hoped to place these two con-
spirators once and for all where they would never again
threaten the peace of the throne of Lutha--in hell.  For a
moment he lay in thought.  Then he addressed the officer
again.

"Leave your force here," he said, "to guard us.  Ride, your-
self, to Lustadt and inform Prince von der Tann that it is the
king's desire that every effort be made to capture these two
men.  Have them brought to Lustadt immediately they are
apprehended.  Bring them dead or alive."

Again Butzow saluted and prepared to leave the room.

"Wait," said Barney.  "Convey our greetings to the Prin-
cess von der Tann, and inform her that my wound is of
small importance, as is also that of the--Mr. Custer.  You
may go, lieutenant."

When they were alone Barney turned toward the king.
The other lay upon his side glaring at the American.  When
he caught the latter's eyes upon him he spoke.

"What do you intend doing with me?" he said.  "Are you
going to keep your word and return my identity?"

"I have promised," replied Barney, "and what I promise
I always perform."

"Then exchange clothing with me at once," cried the
king, half rising from his cot.

"Not so fast, my friend," rejoined the American.  "There
are a few trifling details to be arranged before we resume
our proper personalities."

"Do you realize that you should be hanged for what you
have done?" snarled the king.  "You assaulted me, stole my
clothing, left me here to be shot by Peter, and sat upon my
throne in Lustadt while I lay a prisoner condemned to
death."

"And do you realize," replied Barney, "that by so doing
I saved your foolish little throne for you; that I drove the
invaders from your dominions; that I have unmasked your
enemies, and that I have once again proven to you that the
Prince von der Tann is your best friend and most loyal
supporter?"

"You laid your plebeian hands upon me," cried the king,
raising his voice.  "You humiliated me, and you shall suffer
for it."

Barney Custer eyed the king for a long moment before he
spoke again.  It was difficult to believe that the man was so
devoid of gratitude, and so blind as not to see that even
the rough treatment that he had received at the American's
hands was as nothing by comparison with the service that
the American had done him.  Apparently Leopold had al-
ready forgotten that three times Barney Custer had saved
his life in the courtyard below.  From the man's demeanor,
now that his life was no longer at stake, Barney caught an
inkling of what his attitude might be when once again he
was returned to the despotic power of his kingship.

"It is futile to reason with you," he said.  "There is only
one way to handle such as you.  At present I hold the power
to coerce you, and I shall continue to hold that power until
I am safely out of your two-by-four kingdom.  If you do as
I say you shall have your throne back again.  If you refuse,
why by Heaven you shall never have it.  I'll stay king of
Lutha myself."

"What are your terms?" asked the king.

"That Prince Peter of Blentz, Captain Ernst Maenck, and
old Von Coblich be tried, convicted, and hanged for high
treason," replied the American.

"That is easy," said the king.  "I should do so anyway
immediately I resumed my throne.  Now get up and give
me my clothes.  Take this cot and I will take the bed.
None will know of the exchange."

"Again you are too fast," answered Barney.  "There is an-
other condition."

"Well?"

"You must promise upon your royal honor that Ludwig,
Prince von der Tann, remain chancellor of Lutha during
your life or his."

"Very well," assented the king.  "I promise," and again he
half rose from his cot.

"Hold on a minute," admonished the American; "there
is yet one more condition of which I have not made mention."

"What, another?" exclaimed Leopold testily.  "How much
do you want for returning to me what you have stolen?"

"So far I have asked for nothing for myself," replied Bar-
ney.  "Now I am coming to that part of the agreement.
The Princess Emma von der Tann is betrothed to you.  She
does not love you.  She has honored me with her affection,
but she will not wed until she has been formally released
from her promise to wed Leopold of Lutha.  The king must
sign such a release and also a sanction of her marriage to
Barney Custer, of Beatrice.  Do you understand what I
want?"

The king went livid.  He came to his feet beside the cot.
For the moment, his wound was forgotten.  He tottered to-
ward the impostor.

"You scoundrel!" he screamed.  "You scoundrel!  You have
stolen my identity and my throne and now you wish to steal
the woman who loves me."

"Don't get excited, Leo," warned the American, "and
don't talk so loud.  The Princess doesn't love you, and you
know it as well as I.  She will never marry you.  If you want
your dinky throne back you'll have to do as I desire; that
is, sign the release and the sanction.

"Now let's don't have any heroics about it.  You have
the proposition.  Now I am going to sleep.  In the meantime
you may think it over.  If the papers are not ready when it
comes time for us to leave, and from the way I feel now I
rather think I shall be ready to mount a horse by morning,
I shall ride back to Lustadt as king of Lutha, and I shall
marry her highness into the bargain, and you may go hang!

"How the devil you will earn a living with that king job
taken away from you I don't know.  You're a long way from
New York, and in the present state of carnage in Europe
I rather doubt that there are many headwaiters jobs open
this side of the American metropolis, and I can't for the
moment think of anything else at which you would shine--
with all due respect to some excellent headwaiters I have
known."

For some time the king remained silent.  He was thinking.
He realized that it lay in the power of the American to do
precisely what he had threatened to do.  No one would
doubt his identity.  Even Peter of Blentz had not recognized
the real king despite Leopold's repeated and hysterical
claims.

Lieutenant Butzow, the American's best friend, had no
more suspected the exchange of identities.  Von der Tann,
too, must have been deceived.  Everyone had been deceived.
There was no hope that the people, who really saw so little
of their king, would guess the deception that was being
played upon them.  Leopold groaned.  Barney opened his eyes
and turned toward him.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"I will sign the release and the sanction of her highness'
marriage to you," said the king.

"Good!" exclaimed the American.  "You will then go at
once to Brosnov as originally planned.  I will return to Lus-
tadt and get her highness, and we will immediately leave
Lutha via Brosnov.  There you and I will effect a change of
raiment, and you will ride back to Lustadt with the small
guard that accompanies her highness and me to the frontier."

"Why do you not remain in Lustadt?" asked the king.
"You could as well be married there as elsewhere."

"Because I don't trust your majesty," replied the American.
"It must be done precisely as I say or not at all.  Are you
agreeable?"

The king assented with a grumpy nod.

"Then get up and write as I dictate," said Barney.  Leo-
pold of Lutha did as he was bid.  The result was two short,
crisply worded documents.  At the bottom of each was the
signature of Leopold of Lutha.  Barney took the two papers
and carefully tucked them beneath his pillow.

"Now let's sleep," he said.  "It is getting late and we both
need the rest.  In the morning we have long rides ahead of
us.  Good night."

The king did not respond.  In a short time Barney was
fast asleep.  The light still burned.




XIV

"THE KING'S WILL IS LAW"

THE BLENTZ princess frowned down upon the king and
impostor impartially from her great gilt frame.  It must have
been close to midnight that the painting moved--just a frac-
tion of an inch.  Then it remained motionless for a time.
Again it moved.  This time it revealed a narrow crack at its
edge.  In the crack an eye shone.

One of the sleepers moved.  He opened his eyes.  Stealthily
he raised himself on his elbow and gazed at the other across
the apartment.  He listened intently.  The regular breathing
of the sleeper proclaimed the soundness of his slumber.  Gin-
gerly the man placed one foot upon the floor.  The eye glued
to the crack at the edge of the great, gilt frame of the
Blentz princess remained fastened upon him.  He let his
other foot slip to the floor beside the first.  Carefully he
raised himself until he stood erect upon the floor.  Then, on
tiptoe he started across the room.

The eye in the dark followed him.  The man reached the
side of the sleeper.  Bending over he listened intently to the
other's breathing.  Satisfied that slumber was profound he
stepped quickly to a wardrobe in which a soldier had hung
the clothing of both the king and the American.  He took
down the uniform of the former, casting from time to time
apprehensive glances toward the sleeper.  The latter did not
stir, and the other passed to the little dressing-room adjoin-
ing.

A few minutes later he reentered the apartment fully
clothed and wearing the accouterments of Leopold of Lutha.
In his hand was a drawn sword.  Silently and swiftly he
crossed to the side of the sleeping man.  The eye at the crack
beside the gilded frame pressed closer to the aperture.  The
sword was raised above the body of the slumberer--its point
hovered above his heart.  The face of the man who wielded
it was hard with firm resolve.

His muscles tensed to drive home the blade, but some-
thing held his hand.  His face paled.  His shoulders con-
tracted with a little shudder, and he turned toward the
door of the apartment, almost running across the floor in his
anxiety to escape.  The eye in the dark maintained its un-
blinking vigilance.

With his hand upon the knob a sudden thought stayed
the fugitive's flight.  He glanced quickly back at the sleeper
--he had not moved.  Then the man who wore the uniform
of the king of Lutha recrossed the apartment to the bed,
reached beneath one of the pillows and withdrew two neatly
folded official-looking documents.  These he placed in the
breastpocket of his uniform.  A moment later he was walk-
ing down the spiral stairway to the main floor of the castle.

In the guardroom the troopers of the Royal Horse who
were not on guard were stretched in slumber.  Only a cor-
poral remained awake.  As the man entered the guardroom
the corporal glanced up, and as his eyes fell upon the new-
comer, he sprang to his feet, saluting.

"Turn out the guard!" he cried.  "Turn out the guard for
his majesty, the king!"

The sleeping soldiers, but half awake, scrambled to their
feet, their muscles reacting to the command that their brains
but half perceived.  They snatched their guns from the racks
and formed a line behind the corporal.  The king raised his
fingers to the vizor of his helmet in acknowledgment of their
salute.

"Saddle up quietly, corporal," he said.  "We shall ride to
Lustadt tonight."

The non-commissioned officer saluted.  "And an extra horse
for Herr Custer?" he said.

The king shook his head.  "The man died of his wound
about an hour ago," he said.  "While you are saddling up I
shall arrange with some of the Blentz servants for his burial
--now hurry!"

The corporal marched his troopers from the guardroom
toward the stables.  The man in the king's clothes touched a
bell which was obviously a servant call.  He waited impa-
tiently a reply to his summons, tapping his finger-tips against
the sword-scabbard that was belted to his side.  At last a
sleepy-eyed man responded--a man who had grown gray
in the service of Peter of Blentz.  At sight of the king he
opened his eyes in astonishment, pulled his foretop, and
bowed uneasily.

"Come closer," whispered the king.  The man did so, and
the king spoke in his ear earnestly, but in scarce audible
tones.  The eyes of the listener narrowed to mere slits--of
avarice and cunning, cruelly cold and calculating.  The speak-
er searched through the pockets of the king's clothes that
covered him.  At last he withdrew a roll of bills.  The amount
must have been a large one, but he did not stop to count it.
He held the money under the eyes of the servant.  The fel-
low's claw-like fingers reached for the tempting wealth.  He
nodded his head affirmatively.

"You may trust me, sire," he whispered.

The king slipped the money into the other's palm.  "And
as much more," he said, "when I receive proof that my
wishes have been fulfilled."

"Thank you, sire," said the servant.

The king looked steadily into the other's face before he
spoke again.

"And if you fail me," he said, "may God have mercy on
your soul."  Then he wheeled and left the guardroom, walk-
ing out into the courtyard where the soldiers were busy
saddling their mounts.

A few minutes later the party clattered over the draw-
bridge and down the road toward Blentz and Lustadt.  From
a window of the apartments of Peter of Blentz a man
watched them depart.  When they passed across a strip of
moonlit road, and he had counted them, he smiled with re-
lief.

A moment later he entered a panel beside the huge fire-
place in the west wall and disappeared.  There he struck a
match, found a candle and lighted it.  Walking a few steps
he came to a figure sleeping upon a pile of clothing.  He
stooped and shook the sleeper by the shoulder.

"Wake up!" he cried in a subdued voice.  "Wake up, Prince
Peter; I have good news for you."

The other opened his eyes, stretched, and at last sat up.

"What is it, Maenck?" he asked querulously.

"Great news, my prince," replied the other.

"While you have been sleeping many things have trans-
pired within the walls of your castle.  The king's troopers
have departed; but that is a small matter compared with
the other.  Here, behind the portrait of your great-grand-
mother, I have listened and watched all night.  I opened the
secret door a fraction of an inch--just enough to permit me
to look into the apartment where the king and the American
lay wounded.  They had been talking as I opened the door,
but after that they ceased--the king falling asleep at once--
the American feigning slumber.  For a long time I watched,
but nothing happened until near midnight.  Then the Ameri-
can arose and donned the king's clothes.

"He approached Leopold with drawn sword, but when
he would have thrust it through the heart of the sleeping
man his nerve failed him.  Then he stole some papers from
the room and left.  Just now he has ridden out toward
Lustadt with the men of the Royal Horse who captured
the castle yesterday."

Before Maenck was half-way through his narrative, Peter
of Blentz was wide awake and all attention.  His eyes
glowed with suddenly aroused interest.

"Somewhere in this, prince," concluded Maenck, "there
must lie the seed of fortune for you and me."

Peter nodded.  "Yes," he mused, "there must."

For a time both men were buried in thought.  Suddenly
Maenck snapped his fingers.  "I have it!" he cried.  He bent
toward Prince Peter's ear and whispered his plan.  When he
was done the Blentz prince grasped his hand.

"Just the thing, Maenck!" he cried.  "Just the thing.  Leo-
pold will never again listen to idle gossip directed against
our loyalty.  If I know him--and who should know him
better--he will heap honors upon you, my Maenck; and
as for me, he will at least forgive me and take me back
into his confidence.  Lose no time now, my friend.  We are
free now to go and come, since the king's soldiers have been
withdrawn."

In the garden back of the castle an old man was busy
digging a hole.  It was a long, narrow hole, and, when it
was completed, nearly four feet deep.  It looked like a grave.
When he had finished the old man hobbled to a shed that
leaned against the south wall.  Here were boards, tools, and
a bench.  It was the castle workshop.  The old man selected
a number of rough pine boards.  These he measured and
sawed, fitted and nailed, working all the balance of the
night.  By dawn, he had a long, narrow box, just a trifle
smaller than the hole he had dug in the garden.  The box
resembled a crude coffin.  When it was quite finished, in-
cluding a cover, he dragged it out into the garden and set
it upon two boards that spanned the hole, so that it rested
precisely over the excavation.

All these precautions methodically made, he returned to
the castle.  In a little storeroom he searched for and found an
ax.  With his thumb he felt of the edge--for an ax it was
marvelously sharp.  The old fellow grinned and shook his
head, as one who appreciates in anticipation the consumma-
tion of a good joke.  Then he crept noiselessly through the
castle's corridors and up the spiral stairway in the north
tower.  In one hand was the sharp ax.


The moment Lieutenant Butzow had reached Lustadt he
had gone directly to Prince von der Tann; but the moment
his message had been delivered to the chancellor he sought
out the chancellor's daughter, to tell her all that had oc-
curred at Blentz.

"I saw but little of Mr. Custer," he said.  "He was very
quiet.  I think all that he has been through has unnerved
him.  He was slightly wounded in the left leg.  The king was
wounded in the breast.  His majesty conducted himself in a
most valiant and generous manner.  Wounded, he lay upon
his stomach in the courtyard of the castle and defended
Mr. Custer, who was, of course, unarmed.  The king shot
three of Prince Peter's soldiers who were attempting to
assassinate Mr. Custer."

Emma von der Tann smiled.  It was evident that Lieuten-
ant Butzow had not discovered the deception that had been
practiced upon him in common with all Lutha--she being
the only exception.  It seemed incredible that this good friend
of the American had not seen in the heroism of the man who
wore the king's clothes the attributes and ear-marks of Bar-
ney Custer.  She glowed with pride at the narration of his
heroism, though she suffered with him because of his wound.

It was not yet noon when the detachment of the Royal
Horse arrived in Lustadt from Blentz.  At their head rode
one whom all upon the streets of the capital greeted enthusi-
astically as king.  The party rode directly to the royal palace,
and the king retired immediately to his apartments.  A half
hour later an officer of the king's household knocked upon
the door of the Princess Emma von der Tann's boudoir.  In
accord with her summons he entered, saluted respectfully,
and handed her a note.

It was written upon the personal stationary of Leopold of
Lutha.  The girl read and reread it.  For some time she could
not seem to grasp the enormity of the thing that had over-
whelmed her--the daring of the action that the message
explained.  The note was short and to the point, and was
signed only with initials.

DEAREST EMMA:


The king died of his wounds just before midnight.  I
shall keep the throne.  There is no other way.  None
knows and none must ever know the truth.  Your father
alone may suspect; but if we are married at once our
alliance will cement him and his faction to us.  Send
word by the bearer that you agree with the wisdom
of my plan, and that we may be wed at once--this
afternoon, in fact.

The people may wonder for a few days at the strange
haste, but my answer shall be that I am going to the
front with my troops.  The son and many of the high
officials of the Kaiser have already established the prece-
dent, marrying hurriedly upon the eve of their departure
for the front.

With every assurance of my undying love, believe me,

Yours,
B. C.


The girl walked slowly across the room to her writing
table.  The officer stood in respectful silence awaiting the
answer that the king had told him to bring.  The princess sat
down before the carved bit of furniture.  Mechanically she
drew a piece of note paper from a drawer.  Many times she
dipped her pen in the ink before she could determine what
reply to send.  Ages of ingrained royalistic principles were
shocked and shattered by the enormity of the thing the man
she loved had asked of her, and yet cold reason told her
that it was the only way.

Lutha would be lost should the truth be known--that the
king was dead, for there was no heir of closer blood con-
nection with the royal house than Prince Peter of Blentz,
whose great-grandmother had been a Rubinroth princess.
Slowly, at last, she wrote as follows:


SIRE:
The king's will is law.
EMMA



That was all.  Placing the note in an envelope she sealed
it and handed it to the officer, who bowed and left the
room.

A half hour later officers of the Royal Horse were riding
through the streets of Lustadt.  Some announced to the
people upon the streets the coming marriage of the king
and princess.  Others rode to the houses of the nobility with
the king's command that they be present at the ceremony
in the old cathedral at four o'clock that afternoon.

Never had there been such bustling about the royal pal-
ace or in the palaces of the nobles of Lutha.  The buzz and
hum of excited conversation filled the whole town.  That the
choice of the king met the approval of his subjects was more
than evident.  Upon every lip was praise and love of the
Princess Emma von der Tann.  The future of Lutha seemed
assured with a king who could fight joined in marriage to a
daughter of the warrior line of Von der Tann.

The princess was busy up to the last minute.  She had
not seen her future husband since his return from Blentz,
for he, too, had been busy.  Twice he had sent word to her,
but on both occasions had regretted that he could not come
personally because of the pressure of state matters and the
preparations for the ceremony that was to take place in the
cathedral in so short a time.

At last the hour arrived.  The cathedral was filled to over-
flowing.  After the custom of Lutha, the bride had walked
alone up the broad center aisle to the foot of the chancel.
Guardsmen lining the way on either hand stood rigidly at
salute until she stopped at the end of the soft, rose-strewn
carpet and turned to await the coming of the king.

Presently the doors at the opposite end of the cathedral
opened.  There was a fanfare of trumpets, and up the center
aisle toward the waiting girl walked the royal groom.  It
seemed ages to the princess since she had seen her lover.  Her
eyes devoured him as he approached her.  She noticed that
he limped, and wondered; but for a moment the fact car-
ried no special suggestion to her brain.

The people had risen as the king entered.  Again, the
pieces of the guardsmen had snapped to present; but si-
lence, intense and utter, reigned over the vast assembly.
The only movement was the measured stride of the king
as he advanced to claim his bride.

At the head of each line of guardsmen, nearest the chan-
cel and upon either side of the bridal party, the ranks were
formed of commissioned officers.  Butzow was among them.
He, too, out of the corner of his eye watched the advancing
figure.  Suddenly he noted the limp, and gave a little in-
voluntary gasp.  He looked at the Princess Emma, and saw
her eyes suddenly widen with consternation.

Slowly at first, and then in a sudden tidal wave of mem-
ory, Butzow's story of the fight in the courtyard at Blentz
came back to her.

"I saw but little of Mr. Custer," he had said.  "He was
slightly wounded in the left leg.  The king was wounded in
the breast."  But Lieutenant Butzow had not known the true
identity of either.

The real Leopold it was who had been wounded in the
left leg, and the man who was approaching her up the
broad cathedral aisle was limping noticeably--and favoring
his left leg.  The man to whom she was to be married was
not Barney Custer--he was Leopold of Lutha!

A hundred mad schemes rioted through her brain.  The
wedding must not go on!  But how was she to avert it?  The
king was within a few paces of her now.  There was a smile
upon his lips, and in that smile she saw the final confirma-
tion of her fears.  When Leopold of Lutha smiled his upper
lip curved just a trifle into a shadow of a sneer.  It was a
trivial characteristic that Barney Custer did not share in
common with the king.

Half mad with terror, the girl seized upon the only sub-
terfuge which seemed at all likely to succeed.  It would, at
least, give her a slight reprieve--a little time in which to
think, and possibly find an avenue from her predicament.

She staggered forward a step, clapped her two hands
above her heart, and reeled as though to fall.  Butzow, who
had been watching her narrowly, sprang forward and caught
her in his arms, where she lay limp with closed eyes as
though in a dead faint.  The king ran forward.  The people
craned their necks.  A sudden burst of exclamations rose
throughout the cathedral, and then Lieutenant Butzow,
shouldering his way past the chancel, carried the Princess
Emma to a little anteroom off the east transept.  Behind him
walked the king, the bishop, and Prince Ludwig.




XV

MAENCK BLUNDERS

AFTER a hurried breakfast Peter of Blentz and Captain
Ernst Maenck left the castle of Blentz.  Prince Peter rode
north toward the frontier, Austria, and safety, Captain
Maenck rode south toward Lustadt.  Neither knew that gen-
eral orders had been issued to soldiery and gendarmerie of
Lutha to capture them dead or alive.  So Prince Peter rode
carelessly; but Captain Maenck, because of the nature of
his business and the proximity of enemies about Lustadt,
proceeded with circumspection.

Prince Peter was arrested at Tafelberg, and, though he
stormed and raged and threatened, he was immediately
packed off under heavy guard back toward Lustadt.

Captain Ernst Maenck was more fortunate.  He reached
the capital of Lutha in safety, though he had to hide on
several occasions from detachments of troops moving toward
the north.  Once within the city he rode rapidly to the house
of a friend.  Here he learned that which set him into a fine
state of excitement and profanity.  The king and the Princess
Emma von der Tann were to be wed that very afternoon!
It lacked but half an hour to four o'clock.

Maenck grabbed his cap and dashed from the house be-
fore his astonished friend could ask a single question.  He
hurried straight toward the cathedral.  The king had just
arrived, and entered when Maenck came up, breathless.  The
guard at the doorway did not recognize him.  If they had
they would have arrested him.  Instead they contented them-
selves with refusing him admission, and when he insisted
they threatened him with arrest.

To be arrested now would be to ruin his fine plan, so he
turned and walked away.  At the first cross street he turned
up the side of the cathedral.  The grounds were walled
up on this side, and he sought in vain for entrance.  At the
rear he discovered a limousine standing in the alley where
its chauffeur had left it after depositing his passengers at
the front door of the cathedral.  The top of the limousine
was but a foot or two below the top of the wall.

Maenck clambered to the hood of the machine, and from
there to the top.  A moment later he dropped to the earth
inside the cathedral grounds.  Before him were many win-
dows.  Most of them were too high for him to reach, and
the others that he tried at first were securely fastened.  Pass-
ing around the end of the building, he at last discovered
one that was open--it led into the east transept.

Maenck crawled through.  He was within the building that
held the man he sought.  He found himself in a small room
--evidently a dressing-room.  There were two doors leading
from it.  He approached one and listened.  He heard the
tones of subdued conversation beyond.

Very cautiously he opened the door a crack.  He could not
believe the good fortune that was revealed before him.  On
a couch lay the Princess Emma von der Tann.  Beside her
her father.  At the door was Lieutenant Butzow.  The bishop
and a doctor were talking at the head of the couch.  Pacing
up and down the room, resplendent in the marriage robes
of a king of Lutha, was the man he sought.

Maenck drew his revolver.  He broke the barrel, and saw
that there was a good cartridge in each chamber of the cyl-
inder.  He closed it quietly.  Then he threw open the door,
stepped into the room, took deliberate aim, and fired.

The old man with the ax moved cautiously along the cor-
ridor upon the second floor of the Castle of Blentz until he
came to a certain door.  Gently he turned the knob and
pushed the door inward.  Holding the ax behind his back,
he entered.  In his pocket was a great roll of money, and
there was to be an equal amount waiting him at Lustadt
when his mission had been fulfilled.

Once within the room, he looked quickly about him.
Upon a great bed lay the figure of a man asleep.  His face
was turned toward the opposite wall away from the side of
the bed nearer the menacing figure of the old servant.  On
tiptoe the man with the ax approached.  The neck of his
victim lay uncovered before him.  He swung the ax behind
him.  a single blow, as mighty as his ancient muscles could
deliver, would suffice.

Barney Custer opened his eyes.  Directly opposite him
upon the wall was a dark-toned photogravure of a hunting
scene.  It tilted slightly forward upon its wire support.  As
Barney's opened it chanced that they were directed
straight upon the shiny glass of the picture.  The light from
the window struck the glass in such a way as to transform
it into a mirror.  The American's eyes were glued with horror
upon the reflection that he saw there--an old man swinging
a huge ax down upon his head.

It is an open question as to which of the two was the
most surprised at the cat-like swiftness of the movement
that carried Barney Custer out of that bed and landed him
in temporary safety upon the opposite side.

With a snarl the old man ran around the foot of the bed
to corner his prey between the bed and the wall.  He was
swinging the ax as though to hurl it.  So close was he that
Barney guessed it would be difficult for him to miss his
mark.  The least he could expect would be a frightful wound.
To have attempted to escape would have necessitated turn-
ing his back to his adversary, inviting instant death.  To
grapple with a man thus armed appeared an equally hope-
less alternative.

Shoulder-high beside him hung the photogravure that
had already saved his life once.  Why not again?  He snatched
it from its hangings, lifted it above his head in both hands,
and hurled it at the head of the old man.  The glass shat-
tered full upon the ancient's crown, the man's head went
through the picture, and the frame settled over his shoul-
ders.  At the same instant Barney Custer leaped across the
bed, seized a light chair, and turned to face his foe upon
more even turns.

The old man did not pause to remove the frame from
about his neck.  Blood trickled down his forehead and cheeks
from deep gashes that the broken glass had made.  Now he
was in a berserker rage.

As he charged again he uttered a peculiar whistling noise
from between his set teeth.  To the American it sounded like
the hissing of a snake, and as he would have met a snake he
met the venomous attack of the old man.

When the short battle was over the Blentz servitor lay
unconscious upon the floor, while above him leaned the
American, uninjured, ripping long strips from a sheet torn
from the bed, twisting them into rope-like strands and, with
them, binding the wrists and ankles of his defeated foe.
Finally he stuffed a gag between the toothless gums.

Running to the wardrobe, he discovered that the king's
uniform was gone.  That, with the witness of the empty
bed, told him the whole story.  The American smiled.  "More
nerve than I gave him credit for," he mused, as he walked
back to his bed and reached under the pillow for the two
papers he had forced the king to sign.  They, too, were
gone.  Slowly Barney Custer realized his plight, as there
filtered through his mind a suggestion of the possibilities of
the trick that had been played upon him.

Why should Leopold wish these papers?  Of course, he
might merely have taken them that he might destroy them;
but something told Barney Custer that such was not the
case.  And something, too, told him whither the king had
ridden and what he would do there when he arrived.

He ran back to the wardrobe.  In it hung the peasant
attire that he had stolen from the line of the careless house
frau, and later wished upon his majesty the king.  Barney
grinned as he recalled the royal disgust with which Leopold
had fingered the soiled garments.  He scarce blamed him.
Looking further toward the back of the wardrobe, the
American discovered other clothing.

He dragged it all out upon the floor.  There was an old
shooting jacket, several pairs of trousers and breeches, and
a hunting coat.  In a drawer at the bottom of the wardrobe
he found many old shoes, puttees, and boots.

From this miscellany he selected riding breeches, a pair
of boots, and the red hunting coat as the only articles that
fitted his rather large frame.  Hastily he dressed, and, taking
the ax the old man had brought to the room as the only
weapon available, he walked boldly into the corridor, down
the spiral stairway and into the guardroom.

Barney Custer was prepared to fight.  He was desperate.
He could have slunk from the Castle of Blentz as he had
entered it--through the secret passageway to the ravine;
but to attempt to reach Lustadt on foot was not at all
compatible with the urgent haste that he felt necessary.  He
must have a horse, and a horse he would have if he had to
fight his way through a Blentz army.

But there were no armed retainers left at Blentz.  The
guardroom was vacant; but there were arms there and am-
munition.  Barney commandeered a sword and a revolver,
then he walked into the courtyard and crossed to the stables.
The way took him by the garden.  In it he saw a coffin-like
box resting upon planks above a grave-like excavation.  Bar-
ney investigated.  The box was empty.  Once again he grinned.
"It is not always wise," he mused, "to count your corpses
before they're dead.  What a lot of work the old man might
have spared himself if he'd only caught his cadaver first--
or at least tried to."

Passing on by his own grave, he came to the stables.  A
groom was carrying a strong, clean-limbed hunter haltered
in the doorway.  The man looked up as Barney approached
him.  A puzzled expression entered the fellow's eyes.  He was
a young man--a stupid-looking lout.  It was evident that he
half recognized the face of the newcomer as one he had
seen before.  Barney nodded to him.

"Never mind finishing," he said.  "I am in a hurry.  You
may saddle him at once."  The voice was authoritative--it
brooked no demur.  The groom touched his forehead, dropped
the currycomb and brush, and turned back into the stable
to fetch saddle and bridle.

Five minutes later Barney was riding toward the gate.
The portcullis was raised--the drawbridge spanned the moat
--no guard was there to bar his way.  The sunlight flooded
the green valley, stretching lazily below him in the soft
warmth of a mellow autumn morning.  Behind him he had
left the brooding shadows of the grim old fortress--the cold,
cruel, depressing stronghold of intrigue, treason, and sud-
den death.

He threw back his shoulders and filled his lungs with the
sweet, pure air of freedom.  He was a new man.  The wound
in his breast was forgotten.  Lightly he touched his spurs to
the hunter's sides.  Tossing his head and curveting, the ani-
mal broke into a long, easy trot.  Where the road dipped into
the ravine and down through the village to the valley the
rider drew his restless mount into a walk; but, once in the
valley, he let him out.  Barney took the short road to Lus-
tadt.  It would cut ten miles off the distance that the main
wagonroad covered, and it was a good road for a horseman.
It should bring him to Lustadt by one o'clock or a little
after.  The road wound through the hills to the east of the
main highway, and was scarcely more than a trail where it
crossed the Ru River upon a narrow bridge that spanned
the deep mountain gorge that walls the Ru for ten miles
through the hills.

When Barney reached the river his hopes sank.  The
bridge was gone--dynamited by the Austrians in their re-
treat.  The nearest bridge was at the crossing of the main
highway over ten miles to the southwest.  There, too, the
river might be forded even if the Austrians had destroyed
that bridge also; but here or elsewhere in the hills there
could be no fording--the banks of the Ru were perpendicular
cliffs.

The misfortune would add nearly twenty miles to his
journey--he could not now hope to reach Lustadt before
late in the afternoon.  Turning his horse back along the trail
he had come, he retraced his way until he reached a nar-
row bridle path that led toward the southwest.  The trail
was rough and indistinct, yet he pushed forward, even
more rapidly than safety might have suggested.  The noble
beast beneath him was all loyalty and ambition.

"Take it easy, old boy," whispered Barney into the slim,
pointed ears that moved ceaselessly backward and forward,
"you'll get your chance when we strike the highway, never
fear."

And he did.


So unexpected had been Maenck's entrance into the
room in the east transept, so sudden his attack, that it was
all over before a hand could be raised to stay him.  At the
report of his revolver the king sank to the floor.  At almost
the same instant Lieutenant Butzow whipped a revolver
from beneath his tunic and fired at the assassin.  Maenck
staggered forward and stumbled across the body of the king.
Butzow was upon him instantly, wresting the revolver from
his fingers.  Prince Ludwig ran to the king's side and, kneel-
ing there, raised Leopold's head in his arms.  The bishop
and the doctor bent over the limp form.  The Princess Emma
stood a little apart.  She had leaped from the couch where
she had been lying.  Her eyes were wide in horror.  Her
palms pressed to her cheeks.

It was upon this scene that a hatless, dust-covered man
in a red hunting coat burst through the door that had ad-
mitted Maenck.  The man had seen and recognized the con-
spirator as he climbed to the top of the limousine and
dropped within the cathedral grounds, and he had followed
close upon his heels.

No one seemed to note his entrance.  All ears were turned
toward the doctor, who was speaking.

"The king is dead," he said.

Maenck raised himself upon an elbow.  He spoke feebly.

"You fools," he cried.  "That man was not the king.  I saw
him steal the king's clothes at Blentz and I followed him
here.  He is the American--the impostor."  Then his eyes,
circling the faces about him to note the results of his an-
nouncements, fell upon the face of the man in the red hunt-
ing coat.  Amazement and wonder were in his face.  Slowly
he raised his finger and pointed.

"There is the king," he said.

Every eye turned in the direction he indicated.  Exclama-
tions of surprise and incredulity burst from every lip.  The
old chancellor looked from the man in the red hunting coat
to the still form of the man upon the floor in the blood-
spattered marriage garments of a king of Lutha.  He let the
king's head gently down upon the carpet, and then he rose
to his feet and faced the man in the red hunting coat.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

Before Barney could speak Lieutenant Butzow spoke.

"He is the king, your highness," he said.  "I rode with
him to Blentz to free Mr. Custer.  Both were wounded in
the courtyard in the fight that took place there.  I helped
to dress their wounds.  The king was wounded in the breast--
Mr. Custer in the left leg."

Prince von der Tann looked puzzled.  Again he turned
his eyes questioningly toward the newcomer.

"Is this the truth?" he asked.

Barney looked toward the Princess Emma.  In her eyes he
could read the relief that the sight of him alive had brought
her.  Since she had recognized the king she had believed
that Barney was dead.  The temptation was great--he
dreaded losing her, and he feared he would lose her when
her father learned the truth of the deception that had been
practiced upon him.  He might lose even more--men had
lost their heads for tampering with the affairs of kings.

"Well?" persisted the chancellor.

"Lieutenant Butzow is partially correct--he honestly be-
lieves that he is entirely so," replied the American.  "He did
ride with me from Lustadt to Blentz to save the man who
lies dead here at your feet.  The lieutenant thought that he
was riding with his king, just as your highness thought that
he was riding with his king during the battle of Lustadt.
You were both wrong--you were riding with Mr. Bernard
Custer, of Beatrice.  I am he.  I have no apologies to make.
What I did I would do again.  I did it for Lutha and for the
woman I love.  She knows and the king knew that I intended
restoring his identity to him with no one the wiser for the
interchange that had taken place.  The king upset my plans
by stealing back his identity while I slept, with the result
that you see before you upon the floor.  He has died as he
had lived--futilely."

As he spoke the Princess Emma had crossed the room to-
ward him.  Now she stood at his side, her hand in his.
Tense silence reigned in the apartment.  The old chancellor
stood with bowed head, buried in thought.  All eyes were
upon him except those of the doctor, who had turned his
attention from the dead king to the wounded assassin.  But-
zow stood looking at Barney Custer in open relief and ad-
miration.  He had been trying to vindicate his friend in his
own mind ever since he had discovered, as he believed, that
Barney had tricked Leopold after the latter had saved his
life at Blentz and ridden to Lustadt in the king's guise.  Now
that he knew the whole truth he realized how stupid he
had been not to guess that the man who had led the vic-
torious Luthanian army before Lustadt could not have been
the cowardly Leopold.

Presently the chancellor broke the silence.

"You say that Leopold of Lutha lived futilely.  You are
right; but when you say that he has died futilely, you are,
I believe, wrong.  Living, he gave us a poor weakling.  Dy-
ing, he leaves the throne to a brave man, in whose veins
flows the blood of the Rubinroths, hereditary rulers of Lutha.

"You are the only rightful successor to the throne of
Lutha," he argued, "other than Peter of Blentz.  Your
mother's marriage to a foreigner did not bar the succession
of her offspring.  Aside from the fact that Peter of Blentz is
out of the question, is the more important fact that your
line is closer to the throne than his.  He knew it, and this
knowledge was the real basis of his hatred of you."

As the old chancellor ceased speaking he drew his sword
and raised it on high above his head.

"The king is dead," he said.  "Long live the king!"




XVI

KING OF LUTHA

BARNEY CUSTER, of Beatrice, had no desire to be king of
Lutha.  He lost no time in saying so.  All that he wanted of
Lutha was the girl he had found there, as his father before
him had found the girl of his choice.  Von der Tann pleaded
with him.

"Twice have I fought under you, sire," he urged.  "Twice,
and only twice since the old king died, have I felt that the
future of Lutha was safe in the hands of her ruler, and both
these times it was you who sat upon the throne.  Do not
desert us now.  Let me live to see Lutha once more happy,
with a true Rubinroth upon the throne and my daughter
at his side."

Butzow added his pleas to those of the old chancellor.
The American hesitated.

"Let us leave it to the representatives of the people and
to the house of nobles," he suggested.

The chancellor of Lutha explained the situation to both
houses.  Their reply was unanimous.  He carried it to the
American, who awaited the decision of Lutha in the royal
apartments of the palace.  With him was the Princess Emma
von der Tann.

"The people of Lutha will have no other king, sire," said
the old man.

Barney turned toward the girl.

"There is no other way, my lord king," she said with
grave dignity.  "With her blood your mother bequeathed
you a duty which you may not shirk.  It is not for you or
for me to choose.  God chose for you when you were born."

Barney Custer took her hand in his and raised it to his
lips.

"Let the King of Lutha," he said, "be the first to salute
Lutha's queen."

And so Barney Custer, of Beatrice, was crowned King of
Lutha, and Emma became his queen.  Maenck died of his
wound on the floor of the little room in the east transept of
the cathedral of Lustadt beside the body of the king he
had slain.  Prince Peter of Blentz was tried by the highest
court of Lutha on the charge of treason; he was found guilty
and hanged.  Von Coblich committed suicide on the eve of
his arrest.  Lieutenant Otto Butzow was ennobled and given
the confiscated estates of the Blentz prince.  He became a
general in the army of Lutha, and was sent to the front in
command of the army corps that guarded the northern
frontier of the little kingdom.





End of Project Gutenberg Etext of The Mad King by Edgar Rice Burroughs

I have made the following changes to the text:
PAGE  CHAPTER  PARAGRAPH  LINE  ORIGINAL          CHANGED TO
  72     VIII          3     1  Ludstadt          Lustadt
  81                   3     2  mier              miter
  83                   7     3  Ludstadt          Lustadt
  86                   3     2  him arm           his arm
  90                   4     4  monarch, he       monarch he
  94                   2     4  colums            columns
  98                   2     2  imposter          impostor
 121                   1     1  approaced         approached
 126                   2     5  from              from the
 140                   6     5  whom, appeared    whom appeared
 142                   5     1  once side         one side
 143                   4     8  knew              drew
 158                   4     5  presumptious      presumptuous
 182                   5     3  jeweler's shot    jeweler's shop
 189                   8     2  ingrate?"         ingrate?
 193                   5     3  oil panting       oil painting
 200                   7     1  soldiers          soldier
 211                   2     1  men and woman     men and women
 212                   3     5  instruments       instrument
 217                   4     1  The cheered       They cheered
 217                   6     2  gril's face       girl's face
 218                         1  magnamity         magnanimity
 218                   7     2  him.  Barney's    him, Barney's
 225                   3     3  horseman          horsemen
 228                   5     1  ajaculated        ejaculated
 233                   8     6  king of Lustadt,  king of Lutha,
 234                   6     2  You               "You
 251                         9  Luthania army     Luthanian army
 252                   2     3  poor, weakling    poor weakling



End of Project Gutenberg Etext of The Mad King by Edgar Rice Burroughs