CHAPTER III
ON THE ROAD FROM BALAK
A ponderous coach lumbered slowly, almost painfully, along the narrowroad that skirted the base of a mountain. It was drawn by four horses,and upon the seat sat two rough, unkempt Russians, one holding thereins, the other lying back in a lazy doze. The month was June and allthe world seemed soft and sweet and joyous. To the right flowed aturbulent mountain stream, boiling savagely with the alien waters of theflood season. Ahead of the creaking coach rode four horsemen, allheavily armed; another quartette followed some distance in the rear. Atthe side of the coach an officer of the Russian mounted police wasriding easily, jangling his accoutrements with a vigor that disheartenedat least one occupant of the vehicle. The windows of the coach doorswere lowered, permitting the fresh mountain air to caress fondly theface of the young woman who tried to find comfort in one of the broadseats. Since early morn she had struggled with the hardships of thatseat, and the late afternoon found her very much out of patience. Theopposite seat was the resting place of a substantial colored woman and astupendous pile of bags and boxes. The boxes were continually topplingover and the bags were forever getting under the feet of the once placidservant, whose face, quite luckily, was much too black to reflect theanger she was able, otherwise, through years of practice, to conceal.
"How much farther have we to go, lieutenant?" asked the girl on therear seat, plaintively, even humbly. The man was very deliberate withhis English. He had been recommended to her as the best linguist in theservice at Radovitch, and he had a reputation to sustain.
"It another hour is but yet," he managed to inform her, with a confidentsmile.
"Oh, dear," she sighed, "a whole hour of this!"
"We soon be dar, Miss Bev'ly; jes' yo' mak' up yo' mine to res'easy-like, an' we--" but the faithful old colored woman's advice waslost in the wrathful exclamation that accompanied another dislodgment ofbags and boxes. The wheels of the coach had dropped suddenly into a deeprut. Aunt Fanny's growls were scarcely more potent than poor MissBeverly's moans.
"It is getting worse and worse," exclaimed Aunt Fanny's mistress,petulantly. "I'm black and blue from head to foot, aren't you, AuntFanny?"
"Ah cain' say as to de blue, Miss Bev'ly. Hit's a mos' monstrous badroad, sho 'nough. Stay up dar, will yo'!" she concluded, jamming a baginto an upper corner.
Miss Calhoun, tourist extraordinary, again consulted the linguist in thesaddle. She knew at the outset that the quest would be hopeless, but shecould think of no better way to pass the next hour then to extract amite of information from the officer.
"Now for a good old chat," she said, beaming a smile upon the grizzledRussian. "Is there a decent hotel in the village?" she asked.
They were on the edge of the village before she succeeded in finding outall that she could, and it was not a great deal, either. She learnedthat the town of Balak was in Axphain, scarcely a mile from theGraustark line. There was an eating and sleeping house on the mainstreet, and the population of the place did not exceed three hundred.
When Miss Beverly awoke the next morning, sore and distressed, shelooked back upon the night with a horror that sleep had been kind enoughto interrupt only at intervals. The wretched hostelry lived long in hersecret catalogue of terrors. Her bed was not a bed; it was atorture. The room, the table, the--but it was all too odious fordescription. Fatigue was her only friend in that miserable hole. AuntFanny had slept on the floor near her mistress's cot, and it was thegood old colored woman's grumbling that awoke Beverly. The sun wasclimbing up the mountains in the east, and there was an air of generalactivity about the place. Beverly's watch told her that it was pasteight o'clock.
"Good gracious!" she exclaimed. "It's nearly noon, Aunt Fanny. Hurryalong here and get me up. We must leave this abominable place in tenminutes." She was up and racing about excitedly.
"Befo' breakfas'?" demanded Aunt Fanny weakly.
"Goodness, Aunt Fanny, is that all you think about?"
"Well, honey, yo' all be thinkin' moughty serious 'bout breakfas' 'longto'ahds 'leben o'clock. Dat li'l tummy o' yourn 'll be pow'ful mad'cause yo' didn'--"
"Very well, Aunt Fanny, you can run along and have the woman put up abreakfast for us and we'll eat it on the road. I positively refuse toeat another mouthful in that awful dining-room. I'll be down in tenminutes."
She was down in less. Sleep, no matter how hard-earned, had revived herspirits materially. She pronounced herself ready for anything; there wasa wholesome disdain for the rigors of the coming ride through themountains in the way she gave orders for the start. The Russian officermet her just outside the entrance to the inn. He was less English thanever, but he eventually gave her to understand that he had securedpermission to escort her as far as Ganlook, a town in Graustark not morethan fifteen miles from Edelweiss and at least two days from Balak. Twocompetent Axphainian guides had been retained, and the party was quiteready to start. He had been warned of the presence of brigands in thewild mountainous passes north of Ganlook. The Russians could go nofarther than Ganlook because of a royal edict from Edelweiss forbiddingthe nearer approach of armed forces. At that town, however, he was sureshe easily could obtain an escort of Graustarkian soldiers. As the bigcoach crawled up the mountain road and further into the oppressivesolitudes, Beverly Calhoun drew from the difficult lieutenantconsiderable information concerning the state of affairs in Graustark.She had been eagerly awaiting the time when something definite could belearned. Before leaving St. Petersburg early in the week she was assuredthat a state of war did not exist. The Princess Yetive had been inEdelweiss for six weeks. A formal demand was framed soon after herreturn from America, requiring Dawsbergen to surrender the person ofPrince Gabriel to the authorities of Graustark. To this demand there wasno definite response, Dawsbergen insolently requesting time in which toconsider the proposition. Axphain immediately sent an envoy to Edelweissto say that all friendly relations between the two governments wouldcease unless Graustark took vigorous steps to recapture the royalassassin. On one side of the unhappy principality a strong, overbearingprincess was egging Graustark on to fight, while on the other side anequally aggressive people defied Yetive to come and take the fugitive ifshe could. The poor princess was between two ugly alternatives, and astruggle seemed inevitable. At Balak it was learned that Axphain hadrecently sent a final appeal to the government of Graustark, and it wasno secret that something like a threat accompanied the message.
Prince Gabriel was in complete control at Serros and was disposed tolaugh at the demands of his late captors. His half-brother, thedethroned Prince Dantan, was still hiding in the fastnesses of thehills, protected by a small company of nobles, and there was no hopethat he ever could regain his crown. Gabriel's power over the army wassupreme. The general public admired Dantan, but it was helpless in theface of circumstances.
"But why should Axphain seek to harass Graustark at this time?" demandedBeverly Calhoun, in perplexity and wrath. "I should think the bruteswould try to help her."
"There is an element of opposition to the course the government istaking," the officer informed her in his own way, "but it is greatly inthe minority. The Axphainians have hated Graustark since the last war,and the princess despises this American. It is an open fact that theDuke of Mizrox leads the opposition to Princess Volga, and she is sureto have him beheaded if the chance affords. He is friendly to Graustarkand has been against the policy of his princess from the start."
"I'd like to hug the Duke of Mizrox," cried Beverly, warmly. The officerdid not understand her, but Aunt Fanny was scandalized.
"Good Lawd!" she muttered to the boxes and bags.
As the coach rolled deeper and deeper into the rock-shadowed wilderness,Beverly Calhoun felt an undeniable sensation of awe creeping overher. The brave, impetuous girl had plunged gaily into the project whichnow led her into the deadliest of uncertainties, with but little thoughtof the consequences.
The first stage of the journey by coach had been good fun. They hadpassed al
ong pleasant roads, through quaint villages and amonginteresting people, and progress had been rapid. The second stage hadpresented rather terrifying prospects, and the third day promised evengreater vicissitudes. Looking from the coach windows out upon the quiet,desolate grandeur of her surroundings, poor Beverly began to appreciatehow abjectly helpless and alone she was. Her companions were ugly,vicious-looking men, any one of whom could inspire terror by a look. Shehad entrusted herself to the care of these strange creatures in themoment of inspired courage and now she was constrained to regret heraction. True, they had proved worthy protectors as far as they had gone,but the very possibilities that lay in their power were appalling, nowthat she had time to consider the situation.
The officer in charge had been recommended as a trusted servant of theCzar; an American consul had secured the escort for her direct from thefrontier patrol authorities. Men high in power had vouched for theintegrity of the detachment, but all this was forgotten in the mightysolitude of the mountains. She was beginning to fear her escort morethan she feared the brigands of the hills.
Treachery seemed printed on their backs as they rode ahead of her. Thebig officer was ever polite and alert, but she was ready to distrust himon the slightest excuse. These men could not help knowing that she wasrich, and it was reasonable for them to suspect that she carried moneyand jewels with her. In her mind's eye she could picture these traitorsrifling her bags and boxes in some dark pass, and then there were otherhorrors that almost petrified her when she allowed herself to think ofthem.
Here and there the travelers passed by rude cots where dwelt woodmen andmountaineers, and at long intervals a solitary but picturesque horsemanstood aside and gave them the road. As the coach penetrated deeper intothe gorge, signs of human life and activity became fewer. The sun couldnot send his light into this shadowy tomb of granite. The rattle of thewheels and the clatter of the horses' hoofs sounded like a constantcrash of thunder in the ears of the tender traveler, a dainty morselamong hawks and wolves.
There was an unmistakable tremor in her voice when she at last foundheart to ask the officer where they were to spend the night. It was farpast noon and Aunt Fanny had suggested opening the lunch-baskets. One ofthe guides was called back, the leader being as much in the dark as hischarge.
"There is no village within twenty miles," he said, "and we must sleepin the pass."
Beverly's voice faltered. "Out here in all this awful--" Then she caughtherself quickly. It came to her suddenly that she must not let these mensee that she was apprehensive. Her voice was a trifle shrill and hereyes glistened with a strange new light as she went on, changing hertack completely: "How romantic! I've often wanted to do something likethis."
The officer looked bewildered, and said nothing. Aunt Fanny wasspeechless. Later on, when the lieutenant had gone ahead to confer withthe guides about the suspicious actions of a small troop of horsementhey had seen, Beverly confided to the old negress that she wasfrightened almost out of her boots, but that she'd die before the menshould see a sign of cowardice in a Calhoun. Aunt Fanny was not so proudand imperious. It was with difficulty that her high-strung youngmistress suppressed the wails that long had been under restraint in AuntFanny's huge and turbulent bosom.
"Good Lawd, Miss Bev'ly, dey'll chop us all to pieces an' take ouahjewl'ry an' money an' clo'es and ev'ything else we done got aboutus. Good Lawd, le's tu'n back, Miss Bev'ly. We ain' got no mo' show outheah in dese mountings dan a--"
"Be still, Aunt Fanny!" commanded Beverly, with a fine show ofcourage. "You must be brave. Don't you see we can't turn back? It's justas dangerous and a heap sight more so. If we let on we're not one bitafraid they'll respect us, don't you see, and men never harm women whomthey respect."
"Umph!" grunted Aunt Fanny, with exaggerated irony.
"Well, they never do!" maintained Beverly, who was not at all sure aboutit. "And they look like real nice men--honest men, even though they havesuch awful whiskers."
"Dey's de wust trash Ah eveh did see," exploded Aunt Fanny.
"Sh! Don't let them hear you," whispered Beverly.
In spite of her terror and perplexity, she was compelled to smile. Itwas all so like the farce comedies one sees at the theatre.
As the officer rode up, his face was pale in the shadowy light of theafternoon and he was plainly nervous.
"What is the latest news from the front?" she inquired cheerfully.
"The men refuse to ride on," he exclaimed, speaking rapidly, making itstill harder for her to understand. "Our advance guard has met a partyof hunters from Axphain. They insist that you--'the fine lady in thecoach'--are the Princess Yetive, returning from a secret visit toSt. Petersburg, where you went to plead for assistance from the Czar."
Beverly Calhoun gasped in astonishment. It was too incredible tobelieve. It was actually ludicrous. She laughed heartily. "How perfectlyabsurd."
"I am well aware that you are not the Princess Yetive," he continuedemphatically; "but what can I do; the men won't believe me. They swearthey have been tricked and are panic-stricken over the situation. Thehunters tell them that the Axphain authorities, fully aware of thehurried flight of the Princess through these wilds, are preparing tointercept her. A large detachment of soldiers are already across theGraustark frontier. It is only a question of time before the 'red legs'will be upon them. I have assured them that their beautiful charge isnot the Princess, but an American girl, and that there is no mysteryabout the coach and escort. All in vain. The Axphain guides already feelthat their heads are on the block; while as for the Cossacks, not evenmy dire threats of the awful anger of the White Czar, when he finds theyhave disobeyed his commands, will move them."
"Speak to your men once more, sir, and promise them big purses of goldwhen we reach Ganlook. I have no money or valuables with me; but there Ican obtain plenty," said Beverly, shrewdly thinking it better that theyshould believe her to be without funds.
The cavalcade had halted during this colloquy. All the men were aheadconversing sullenly and excitedly with much gesticulation. The driver, astolid creature, seemingly indifferent to all that was going on, aloneremained at his post. The situation, apparently dangerous, was certainlymost annoying. But if Beverly could have read the mind of that silentfigure on the box, she would have felt slightly relieved, for he wasinfinitely more anxious to proceed than even she; but from far differentreasons. He was a Russian convict, who had escaped on the way toSiberia. Disguised as a coachman he was seeking life and safety inGraustark, or any out-of-the-way place. It mattered little to him wherethe escort concluded to go. He was going ahead. He dared not go back--hemust go on.
At the end of half an hour, the officer returned; all hope had gone fromhis face. "It is useless!" he cried out. "The guides refuse toproceed. See! They are going off with their countrymen! We are lostwithout them. I do not know what to do. We cannot get to Ganlook; I donot know the way, and the danger is great. Ah! Madam! Here they come!The Cossacks are going back."
As he spoke, the surly mutineers were riding slowly towards thecoach. Every man had his pistol on the high pommel of the saddle. Theirfaces wore an ugly look. As they passed the officer, one of them,pointing ahead of him with his sword, shouted savagely, "Balak!"
It was conclusive and convincing. They were deserting her.
"Oh, oh, oh! The cowards!" sobbed Beverly in rage and despair. "I mustgo on! Is it possible that even such men would leave--"
She was interrupted by the voice of the officer, who, raising his cap toher, commanded at the same time the driver to turn his horses and followthe escort to Balak.
"What is that?" demanded Beverly in alarm.
From far off came the sound of firearms. A dozen shots were fired, andreverberated down through the gloomy pass ahead of the coach.
"They are fighting somewhere in the hills in front of us," answered thenow frightened officer. Turning quickly, he saw the deserting horsemenhalt, listen a minute, and then spur their horses. He cried out sharplyto the driver, "Come, t
here! Turn round! We have no time to lose!"
With a savage grin, the hitherto motionless driver hurled some insultingremark at the officer, who was already following his men, now in fullflight down the road, and settling himself firmly on the seat, taking afresh grip of the reins, he yelled to his horses, at the same timelashing them furiously with his whip, and started the coach ahead at afearful pace. His only thought was to get away as far as possible fromthe Russian officer, then deliberately desert the coach and itsoccupants and take to the hills.