Truxton King: A Story of Graustark

  CHAPTER XVI

  THE MERRY VAGABOND

  The man who stood in the middle of the freight-car, looking down inwonder at the fugitives, was a tall vagabond of the most picturesquetype. No ragamuffin was ever so tattered and torn as this rakishindividual. His clothes barely hung together on his lank frame; he wasbarefoot and hatless; a great mop of black hair topped his shrewd,rugged face; coal-black eyes snapped and twinkled beneath shaggy browsand a delighted, knowing grin spread slowly over his rather boyishcountenance. He was not a creature to strike terror to the heart of anyone; on the contrary, his mischievous, sprightly face produced animpression of genuine good humour and absolute indifference to the harshthings of life.

  Long, thin lips curled into a smile of delicious regard; his sides shookwith the quiet chuckle of understanding. He did not lose his smile, evenwhen the match burned his finger tips and fell to the floor of the car.Instead, the grin was broader when he struck the second match andresumed his amused scrutiny of his fellow-lodgers. This time hepractised thrift: he lighted a cigarette with the match before tossingit aside. Then he softly slid the car door back in its groove and lookedout into the moist, impenetrable night. A deep sigh left his smilinglips; a retrospective langour took possession of his long frame; hesighed again, and still he smiled.

  Leaning against the side of the door this genial gypsy smoked inblissful silence until the stub grew so short that it burned his alreadysinged fingers. He was thinking of other days and nights, and of manymaids in far-off lands, and of countless journeys in which he, too, hadhad fair and gentle company--short journeys, yes, but not to beforgotten. Ah, to be knight of the road and everlasting squire to theGoddess of Love! He always had been that--ever since he could remember;he had loved a hundred briefly; none over long. It was the only way.

  Once more he turned to look upon the sleeping pair. This time he lightedthe stub of a tallow candle. The tender, winning smile in his dark eyesgrew to positive radiance. Ah, how he envied this great, sleepingwayfarer! How beautiful his mistress! How fortunate the lover! And howthey slept--how tired they were! Whence had they come? From what distantland had they travelled together to reach this holiday-garnished city inthe hills? Vagabonds, tramps! They were of his world, a part of hisfamily; he knew and had loved a hundred of her sisters, he was one of ahundred-thousand brothers to this man.

  Why should he stay here to spoil their waking hour? The thought came tohim suddenly. No; he would surrender his apartment to them. He was freeand foot-loose; he could go elsewhere. He _would_ go elsewhere.

  Softly he tip-toed to his own corner of the car, looking over hisshoulder with anxious eyes to see that his movements did not disturbthem. He gathered up his belongings: an ancient violin case, a stoutwalking stick, a goodly sized pack done up in gaudy cloth, a well-wornpair of sandals with long, frayed lacings. As gently he stole back tothe door. Here he sat down, with his feet hanging outside the car. Then,with many a sly, wary glance at his good comrades, he put on hissandals and laced them up the leg. He tossed a kiss to the sleepinggirl, his dark gypsy face aglow with admiration and mischief, and wasabout to blow out the light of his candle. Then he changed his mind. Hearose and stood over them again, looking long and solemnly at the faceof the sleeping girl. Ah, yes, she was the most beautiful he had everseen--the very fairest. He had known her sisters, but-no, they were notlike this one. With a sly grimace of envy he shook his fist at the tallman whose leg served as a pillow for the tired head.

  The girl looked wan and tired--and hungry. Poor thing! Never had he seenone so sweet and lovely as she; never had he seen such a shockinglymuddy mackintosh, however, as the one she wore, never were hands sodirty as the slender ones which lay limp before her. With a determinedshake of his head and a new flash of the eye he calmly seated himselfand began to open his ragged pack. Once he paused, a startled look inhis face. He caught sight of the revolver at Truxton's side for thefirst time. The instant of alarm passed and a braver smile than evercame. Ah, here was a knight who would fight for his lady love! Goodfellow! Bravo!

  At last his small store of food lay exposed. Without hesitation hedivided the pieces of smoked venison, giving one part to himself, two tothe sleepers; then the miller's bread and the cheese, and the bag ofdates he had bought the day before. He tied up his own slender portionand would have whistled for the joy of it all had he not bethoughthimself in time.

  From one of his pockets he drew out tobacco and cigarette papers. Withhis back planted up against the wall of the car, his legs crossed andhis feet wiggling time to the inward tune he sang, he calmly rolled halfa dozen cigarettes and placed them, one by one, beside the feast. Onematch from his thin supply he placed alongside the cigarettes. Then helooked very doubtful. No; one might blow out. He must not be niggardly.So he kept two for himself and gave three to the guest at his banquet.

  Again he blew a kiss to the prettiest girl he had ever seen. Snuffinghis candle, he dropped to the ground and closed the door against allspying, uncivil eyes.

  The first grey of dawn was growing in the sombre east. He looked outover the tops of cars and sniffed the air. The rain was over. He knew. Atinge of red that none but the gypsy could have distinguished betrayedthe approach of a sunny day. Jauntily he swung off down the path betweenthe lines of cars, his fickle mind wavering between the joys of thecoming day and the memory of the loveliest Romany he had everencountered.

  Daybreak found him at the wharf gates. It was gloomy here and silent;the city above looked asleep and unfruitful. His heart was gay; helonged for company. Whimsical, careless hearted, he always obeyed theimpulse that struck him first. As he stood there, surveying the wet,deserted wharf, it came to him suddenly that if he went back and playedone soft love-song before the door of the car, they might invite him tojoin them in the breakfast that the genie had brought.

  His long legs were swift. In five minutes he was half way down the lineof cars, at the extreme end of which stood the happy lodging place ofhis heart's desire. Then he paused, a dubious frown between his eyes.No! he said, slapping his own cheek soundly; it would not be fair! Hewould not disturb them, not he! How could he have thought of such athing. _Le bon Dieu!_ Never! He would breakfast alone!

  Coming to an empty flat car, direct from the quarries, he resolutelyseated himself upon its edge, and, with amiable resignation, set aboutdevouring his early meal, all the while casting longing, almostappealing glances toward the next car but one. Busy little switchengines began chugging about the yards; the railroad, at least, wasexhibiting some signs of life. Here and there the crews were "snaking"out sections and bumping them off to other parts of the gridiron; a carhere, a car there--all aflounder, but quite simple to this merrywanderer. He knew all about switching, he did. It did not cause him theleast uneasiness when a sudden jar told him that an engine had beenattached to the distant end of the string in which he breakfasted. Norwas he disturbed when the cars began to move. What cared he? He wouldride in his dining-car to the objective switch, wherever that was, andno doubt would find himself nearer the main freight depot, with littleor no walking to do on his journey to the square.

  But the "string" was not bound for another track in the yards; it was onits way to the main line, thence off through the winding valley intostrange and distant lands.

  Sir Vagabond, blissfully swinging his heels and munching his venison,smiled amiably upon the yard men as he passed them by. So genial was thesmile, so frank the salutation, that not one scowled back at him orhurled the chunk of coal that bespeaks a surly temper. Down through themaze of sidetracks whisked the little train, out upon the main line witha thin shriek of greeting, past the freight houses--it was then that SirVagabond sat up very straight, a look of mild interest in his eyes.Interest gave way to perplexity, perplexity to concern. What's this?Leaving the city? He wasted no time. This would never do! Clutching hisbelongings to his side, he vaulted from one hand, nimbly and with thegracefulness of wide experience, landing safely on his feet at theroadside.

  There he
stood with the wry, dazed look of a man who suddenly findshimself guilty of arrant stupidity, watching the cars whiz past on theirway to the open country. Just ahead was the breach in the wall throughwhich all trains entered or left the city. Into that breach shot thetrain, going faster and faster as it saw the straight, clear trackbeyond. He waited until the tail end whisked itself out of sight in thecut below the city walls, and then trudged slowly, dejectedly in theopposite direction, his heart in his boots. He was thinking of theluckless pair in the empty "box."

  Suddenly he stopped, his chin up, his hands to his sides. A hearty pealof laughter soared from his lips. He was regarding the funny side of thesituation. The joke was on them! It was rich! The more he thought oftheir astonishment on awaking, the more he laughed. He leaned against acar.

  His immense levity attracted attention. Four or five men approached himfrom the shadows of the freight houses, ugly, unsmiling fellows. Theydemanded of him the cause of his unseemly mirth. With tears in his merryblack eyes he related the plight of the pretty slumberers, dwelling moreor less sentimentally on the tender beauty of the maiden fair. Theyplied him with questions. He described the couple--even glowingly. Thenthe sinister fellows smiled; more than that, they clapped each other onthe back and swore splendidly. He was amazed and his own good humourgave way to fierce resentment. What right had these ruffians to laugh atthe misfortunes of that unhappy maid?

  A switchman came up, and one of the men, a lank American whom we shouldrecognise by the sound of his voice (having heard it before), askedwhither the train was bound and when it would first stop in its flight.

  "At the Poo quarries, seventeen kilometers down the line. They cut out afew empties there. She goes on to the division point after that."

  "Any trains up from that direction this morning?" demanded "Newport."

  "Not till this afternoon. Most of the crews are in the city for the--"But the switchman had no listeners beyond that statement.

  And so it was that the news spread over town at five o'clock thatTruxton King was where he could do no harm. It was well known that thetrain would make forty miles an hour down the steep grade into the lowervalley.

  Up into the city strolled Sir Vagabond, his fiddle in his hand, hisheart again as light as a feather. Some day--ah, some day! he would seeher again on the road. It was always the way. Then he would tell her howunhappy he had been--for a minute. She was so pretty, so very pretty! Hesighed profoundly. We see no more of him.

  When Truxton King first awoke to the fact that they were no longer lyingmotionless in the dreary yards, he leaped to his feet with a startledshout of alarm. Loraine sat up, blinking her eyes in half-consciouswonder. It was broad daylight, of course; the train was rattling throughthe long cut just below the city walls. With frantic energy he pulledopen the door. For a minute he stared at the scudding walls of stone soclose at hand, uncomprehendingly. Then the truth burst upon him withthe force of a mighty blow. He staggered back, his jaw dropping, hiseyes glaring.

  "What the dev--Great God, Loraine! We're going! We're moving!" he criedhoarsely.

  "I know it," she gasped, her body rocking violently with the swaying ofthe wild, top-heavy little car.

  "Great Scott! How we're pounding it! Fifty miles an hour. Where are we?"he cried, aghast. He could scarcely keep his feet, so terrific was thespeed and so sickening the motion.

  She got to her feet and lurched to his side. "Don't fall out!" shealmost shrieked. He drew back with her. Together they swayed like reedsin a windstorm, staring dizzily at the wall before them.

  Suddenly the train shot out into the open, farm-spattered valley.Truxton fell back dumbfounded.

  "The country!" he exclaimed. "We've been carried away. I--I can'tbelieve my senses. Could we have slept--what a fool, what an idiot! Godin heaven! The Prince! He is lost!" He was beside himself with anguishand despair, raging like a madman, cursing himself for a fool, a dog, amurderer!

  Little less distressed than her companion, Loraine Tullis still had thegood sense to keep him from leaping from the car. He had shouted to herthat he must get back to the city; she could go on to the next town andfind a hiding place. He would come to her as soon as he had given thealarm.

  "You would be killed," she cried, clutching his arm fiercely. "You nevercan jump, Truxton. See how we are running. If you jump, I shall follow.I won't go on alone. I am as much to blame as you."

  The big, strong fellow broke down and cried, utterly disheartened.

  "Don't cry, Truxton, please don't cry!" she pleaded. "Something willhappen. We must stop sometime. Then we can get another train back, ortelegraph, or hire a wagon. It must be very early. The sun is scarcelyup. Do be brave! Don't give up!"

  He squared his shoulders. "You put me to shame!" he cried abjectly."I'm--I'm unnerved, that's all. It was too much of a blow. After we'dgot away from those scoundrels so neatly, too. Oh, it's maddening! I'llbe all right in a minute. You plucky, plucky darling!"

  The train whirled through a small hamlet without even slackening itsspeed. Truxton endeavoured to shout a warning to two men who stood bythe gates; but they merely laughed, not comprehending. Then he undertookto arrest the attention of the engineer. He leaned from the door andshouted. The effort was futile, almost disastrous. A lurch came near tohurling him to the rocky road bed. Now and then they passed farmers onthe high road far above, bound for the city. They called out to them,but the cries were in vain. With every minute they were running fartherand farther away from the city of Edelweiss; every mile was adding tothe certainty of the doom which hung over the little Prince and hispeople.

  A second small station flew by. "Ronn: seven kilometers to Edelweiss."He looked at her in despair.

  "We're going faster and faster," he grated. "This is the fastest trainin the world, Loraine, bar none."

  Just then his gaze alighted on the pathetic breakfast and the wanderingcigarettes. He stared as if hypnotised. Was he going mad? An instantlater he was on his hands and knees, examining the mysterious feast. Shejoined him at once; no two faces ever before were so puzzled andperplexed.

  "By heaven!" he exclaimed, drawing her away from the spot in quickalarm, comprehension flooding his brain. "I see it all! We've beendeliberately shanghaied! We've been bottled up here, drugged, perhaps,and shipped out of town by fast freight--no destination. Don't touchthat stuff! It's probably full of poison. Great Scott! What a clevergang they are! And what a blithering idiot they have in me to deal with.Oh, how easy!"

  Whereupon he proceeded to kick the unoffending breakfast, cigarettes andall, out of the car door. To their dying day they were to believe thatthe food had been put there by agents of the great conspirator. Itreadily may be surmised that neither of them was given to sensibledeductions during their astounding flight. If they had thought twice,they might have seen the folly of their quick conclusions. Marlanx's menwould not have sent Loraine off in a manner like this. But thedistracted pair were not in an analytical frame of mind just then; thatis why the gentle munificence of Sir Vagabond came to a barren waste.

  Mile after mile flew by. The unwilling travellers, depressed beyonddescription, had given up all hope of leaving the car until it reachedthe point intended by the wily plotters. To their amazement, however,the speed began to slacken perceptibly after they had left the city tenor twelve miles behind. Truxton was leaning against the side of thedoor, gloomily surveying the bright, green landscape. For some timeLoraine had been steadying herself by clinging to his arm. They had castoff the unsightly rain coats and other clumsy articles. Once, throughsheer inability to control his impulses, he had placed his arm about herslim waist, but she had gently freed herself. Her look of reproach wassufficient to check all future impulses of a like nature.

  "Hello!" said he, coming out of his bitter dream.

  "We're slowing up." He looked out and ahead. "No station is in sight.There's a bridge down the road a bit--yes, there's our same old river.By George!" His face was a study.

  "What is it?" she cried, struck by his sudd
en energy of speech.

  "They're running slow for the bridge. Afraid of the floods. D'ye see? Ifthey creep up to it as they do in the United States when they'recautious, we'll politely drop off and--'Pon my soul, she's coming downto a snail's pace. We can swing off, Loraine. Now's our chance!"

  The train was barely creeping up to the bridge. He clasped her in thestrong crook of his left arm, slid down to a sitting position, andboldly pushed himself clear of the car, landing on his feet. Staggeringforward with the impetus he had received, he would have fallen exceptfor a mighty effort. A sharp groan escaped his lips as he lowered her tothe ground. She looked anxiously into his face and saw nothing there butrelief.

  The cars rumbled across the bridge, picked up speed beyond, andthundered off in the distance with never so much as a thought of the twowho stood beside the track and laughed hysterically.

  "Come along," said the man briefly. "We must try to reach that stationback there. There I can telegraph in. Oh!" His first attempt to walkbrought out a groan of pain.

  He had turned his ankle in the leap to the ground. She was deeplyconcerned, but he sought to laugh it off. Gritting his teethdeterminedly, he led the way back along the track.

  "Lean on me," she cried despairingly.

  "Nonsense," he said with grim stubbornness. "I don't mind the pain. Wecan't stop for a sprained ankle. It's an old one I got playing football.We may have to go a little slow, but we'll not stop, my dear--not tillwe get word to Dangloss!"

  She found a long, heavy stick for him; thereafter he hobbled withgreater speed and less pain. At a wagon-road crossing they paused torest, having covered two miles. The strain was telling on him;perspiration stood out in great drops upon his brow; he was beginning todespair. Her little cry of joy caused him to look up from the swollenankle which he was regarding with dubious concern. An oxcart wasapproaching from the west.

  "A ride!" she cried joyously. She had been ready to drop with fatigue;her knees were shaking. His first exclamation of joy died away in agroan of dismay. He laughed bitterly.

  "That thing couldn't get us anywhere in a week," he said.

  "But it will help," she cried brightly, an optimist by force ofnecessity.

  They stopped the cart and bargained for a ride to Ronn. The man was afarmer, slow and suspicious. He haggled.

  "The country's full of evil men and women these days," he demurred."Besides I have a heavy enough load as it is for my poor beasts."

  Miss Tullis conducted the negotiations, making the best of her year'sacquaintance with the language of the country.

  "Don't tell him why we are in such a hurry," cautioned King. "He may bea Marlanx sympathiser."

  "You have nothing in your cart but melons," she said to the farmer,peeping under the corner of the canvas covering.

  "I am not going through Ronn, but by the high road to Edelweiss," heprotested. "A good ten kilometers."

  "But carry us until we come up with some one who can give us horses."

  "Horses!" he croaked. "Every horse in the valley is in Edelweiss by thistime. This is the great day there. The statue of--"

  "Yes, yes, I know. We are bound for Edelweiss. Can you get us there intwo hours?"

  "With these beasts, poor things? Never!"

  "It will be worth your while. A hundred gavvos if you carry us to aplace where we can secure quicker transportation."

  In time she won him over. He agreed to carry them along the way, at hisbest speed, until they came up with better beasts or reached the citygates. It was the best he could do. The country was practically desertedon this day. At best there were but few horses in the valley; mostlyoxen. They climbed up to the seat and the tortuous journey began. Thefarmer trotted beside the wheel nearly all of the way, descanting warmlyin painful English on the present condition of things in the hills.

  "The rascals have made way with the beautiful Miss Tullis. She is theAmerican lady stopping at the Castle. You should see her, sir. Exceptingour dear Princess Yetive--God rest her soul--she is the most beautifulcreature Graustark has ever seen. I have seen her often. Not quite sogrand as the Countess Ingomede, but fairer, believe me. She is belovedby everyone. Many a kind and generous word has she spoken to me. Myonion beds are well known to her. She has come to my farm time andagain, sir, with the noble personages, while riding, and she has insecret bought my little slips of onions. She has said to me that sheadores them, but that she can only eat them in secret. Ah, sir, it is asad day for Graustark that evil has happened to her. Her brother, theysay, is off in the Dawsbergen hills searching for her. He is a grandman."

  His passengers were duly interested. She nudged the lugubrious Truxtonwhen the man spoke of the onions. "What a fibber! I hate onions."

  "She is to be married to the Count Vos Engo; a fine lad, sir. Now she isgone, I don't know what he will do. Suicide, mayhap. Many is the time Ihave cautioned her not to ride in the hills without a strong guard.These bandits are getting very bold."

  "Do you know the great Count Marlanx?" demanded King, possessed of asudden thought. The man faced him at the mention of the name, asuspicious gleam in his eyes.

  "Count Marlanx!" he snorted. Without another word, he drew the beasts toa standstill. There was no mistaking the angry scowl. "Are you friendsof that snake? If you are, get out of my cart."

  "He's all right," cried Truxton. "Tell him who we are, Loraine, and whywe _must_ get to the city."

  Five minutes later, the farmer, overcome by the stupendous news, waslashing his oxen with might and main; the astonished beasts tore downthe road to Ronn so bravely that there seemed some prospect of getting atelegram through in time. All the way the excited countryman groaned andswore and sputtered his prayers. At Ronn they learned that the operatorhad been unable to call Edelweiss since seven o'clock. The wires weredown or had been cut. Truxton left a message to be sent to Dangloss incase he could get the wire, and off they started again for the citygates, having lost considerable time by the diverted mile or two.

  Not man, woman or child did they encounter as the miles crept by. Thecountry was barren of humanity. Ahead of them was the ascent to beconquered by oxen so old and feeble that the prospect was more thandubious.

  "If it should be that my team gives out, I will run on myself to givethe alarm," cried the worthy, perspiring charioteer. "It shall not be!God preserve us!"

  Three times the oxen broke down, panting and stubborn; as many times hethwacked them and kicked them and cursed them into action again. Theystumbled pitifully, but they _did_ manage to go forward.

  In time the city gates came in sight--far up the straight, narrow road."Pray God we may not be too late," groaned the farmer. "Damn the swinewho took their horses to town before the sun was up. Curse them forfools and imbeciles. Fools never get into heaven. Thank the good Lordfor that."

  It seemed to the quivering Americans that the gates were mocking them bydrawing farther away instead of coming nearer.

  "Are we going backward?" groaned Truxton, his hands gripping the side ofthe bounding seat.

  Near the gates, which were still open, it occurred to him in a singleflash of dismay that he and Loraine would be recognised and interceptedby Marlanx watchers. Between the fierce jolts of the great cart hemanaged to convey his fears to her.

  It was she who had the solution. They might succeed in passing the gatesif they hid themselves in the bed of the cart, underneath the thickcanvas covering. The farmer lifted the cloth and they crawled down amongthe melons. In this fashion they not only covered the remainder of thedistance, half stifled by the heat and half murdered by theuncomfortable position, but passed through the gates and were takenclattering down the streets toward the centre of town.

  "To the Tower!" cried the anxious Truxton.

  "Impossible!" shouted the farmer. "The streets are roped off and thecrowds are too great."

  "Then let us out as near to the Tower as possible, cried the other.

  "Here we are," cried the driver, a few minutes later, pulling up hishalf dead oxen a
nd leaping to the ground. He threw off the covering andthey lost no time in tumbling from their bed of melons to thecobble-stone pavement of a narrow alley into which he had turned forsafety. "Through this passage!" he gasped, hoarse with excitement. "TheTower is below. Follow me! My oxen will stand. I am going with you!" Hisrugged face was aglow.

  Off through the alley they hurried, King disdaining the pain his anklewas giving him. They came to the crowded square a few minutes later. Theclock in the Cathedral pointed to twelve o'clock and after! Thecatastrophe had not yet taken place; the people were laughing andsinging and shouting. They were in time. Everywhere they heard gladvoices crying out that the Prince was coming! It was the Royal band thatthey heard through dinning ears!

  "Great God!" cried Truxton, stopping suddenly and pointing withtrembling hand to a spot across the street and a little below wherethey had pushed through the resentful, staring throng on the sidewalk."There she is! At the corner! Stop her!"

  He had caught sight of Olga Platanova.

  The first row of dragoons was already passing in front of her. Less thantwo hundred feet away rolled the royal coach of gold! All this flashedbefore the eyes of the distracted pair, who were now dashing franticallyinto the open street, disregarding the shouts of the police and thehowls of the crowd.

  "An anarchist!" shouted King hoarsely. He looked like one himself. "Thebomb! The bomb! Stop the Prince!"

  Colonel Quinnox recognised this bearded, uncouth figure, and the flying,terrified girl at his heels. King was dragging her along by the hand.There was an instant of confusion on the part of the vanguard, a drawingof sabres, a movement toward the coach in which the Prince rode.

  Quinnox alone prevented the dragoons from cutting down the pallid madmanwho stumbled blindly toward the coaches beyond. He whirled his steedafter an astonished glance in all directions, shouting eager commandsall the while. When he reached the side of the gasping American, thatperson had stopped and was pointing toward the trembling Olga, who hadseen and recognised him.

  "Stop the coach!" cried King. Loraine was running frantically throughthe ranks of horsemen, screaming her words of alarm.

  The Duke of Perse leaped from his carriage and ran forward, shouting tothe soldiers to seize the disturbers. Panic seized the crowd. There wasa mad rush for the corner above. Olga Platanova stood alone, her eyeswide and glassy, staring as if petrified at the face of Truxton King.

  He saw the object in her wavering hand. With a yell he dashed for safetydown the seething avenue. The Duke of Perse struck at him as he passed,ignoring the frantic cry of warning that he uttered. A plain,white-faced farmer in a smock of blue was crossing the street withmighty bounds, his eyes glued upon the arm of the frail, terrifiedanarchist. If he could only arrest that palsied, uncertain arm!

  But she hurled the bomb, her hands going to her eyes as she fell uponher knees.