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

shooting him on sight."

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

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

stolid countenance. He leaned forward quite close to the other's

ear.

"We of Lutha," he whispered, "love our 'mad king'--no reward could

be offered that would tempt us to betray him. Even in

self-protection we would not kill him, we of the mountains who

remember him as a boy and loved his father and his grandfather,

before him.

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

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

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

perfect German for a foreigner. Were I in mein Herr's place, I

should speak mostly the English, and, too, I should shave off the

'full, reddish-brown beard.'"

Whereupon the storekeeper turned hastily back into his shop, leaving

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

inhabitants of Lutha were afflicted with a mental disorder similar

to that of the unfortunate ruler.

"I don't wonder," soliloquized the young man, "that he advised me to

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

anyway; if things had gone half right I shouldn't have had to wear

this badge of idiocy. And to think that it's got to be for a whole

month longer! A year's a mighty long while at best, but a year in

company with a full set of red whiskers is an eternity."

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

<<BackPagesTo menuNext>>