Trusia: A Princess of Krovitch

  II

  "STRANGE COUNTREES FOR TO SEE"

  In the soul of Calvert Carter arose a vague unrest. A voiceless summonsbade him, with every April stir of wind, to shake off the tale of commonthings and match his manhood and keen intelligence in Nature's conflict,the battle of the male. Six years past had found him in Cuba. In thatbrief campaign against Spain, his entire military career, each day socrowded with anticipation or actual battle, had been laid the foundationfor this _wanderlieb_; this growing appetite for excitement and hazard.Occasional trips to Europe and even forays after big game had failed tosatisfy him. Without realizing it, his was the aboriginal's longing forwar,--primitive savage against primitive savage, and--his life lacked awoman.

  He paced about his library as in a cage.

  He strove desperately to understand the elusive impulse which urged himto go forth running, head up, pulses flaming; on, on, out of the reekingcity to the cool, clean woods; on, on, to the heart of the world whereall brutes and mankind strove in one titanic fight for supremacy.Conventions held him fast. He must go somewhere, however. Where? Wasthere in Old or New World an unbeaten track his feet had not trodden, achance for adventure--man-strife? Manchuria! It would not do. His wasnot the mood for the porcelain, perfect politeness of Nippon. He was nobeast to revel in the stupid orgies of the Slav!

  The door opened and Carrick entered. It was not the Carrick ofyesterday, but one who, though unable to eradicate all the traces of hisearlier environments, had nevertheless succeeded in achieving externallyand mentally a much higher plane than that on which Carter first foundhim. When he spoke, seeing his master was in some perplexity, therestill lingered in his accent the unmistakable evidence of hisWhitechapel origin.

  "What is it, sir?"

  Carter turned to him with a troubled countenance.

  "Carrick," he said, "do you ever feel as if you wanted to be back on thefighting line?"

  The fellow smiled guiltily.

  "Yes, Mr. Carter, when I 'ave the go-fever as I call it! Then you see,"he explained apologetically, "I was allus a sort of a tramp before youtook 'old of me, sir. Don't think it's because the plyce don't suit--noman ever 'ad a better, thanks to you. Sometimes I think, though, as 'owall men get the feelin' in spells. Do you ever feel that wye?"

  "I'm chock full of it now, Carrick. I must get away from the manacles ofcities. Hand me that atlas--I'll study the map of Europe again. Thanks.This is about the tenth time." Carter bent over the plotted pageanxiously while his man stood at his elbow.

  "Germany won't do," said Calvert. "I hate the very sight of awasp-waisted, self-sufficient Prussian subaltern. They're everywhere.Imperial arrogance seems to pervade even their beer gardens." His voicetrailed off into silence again, as in a preoccupied manner his fingerwandered over the map. It stopped suddenly as he leaned closer to studythe pink plot on which it rested. "Krovitch; Krovitch!" he muttered,"now where the devil have I heard of Krovitch? Russian province it seemsbut that doesn't give me any clue. I'm stuck, Carrick," he said with afrank laugh as he looked up to meet the man's responsive smile.

  "Can I 'elp you, sir?" He leaned over Carter's shoulder.

  "What is there about that little spot to set me guessing?" His fingerkept tapping the indicated locality perplexedly.

  His man studied a moment as if some old memory were awakened. "Can'tsye, sir; but wasn't Count Zulka, of the Racquet Club, from there, sir?"he hesitatingly suggested. "Seems as if I remember 'is man saying asmuch."

  "Now we are getting at it, Carrick. Certainly. Zulka is a Krovitzer. Hasa mediaeval castle at Schallberg. Capital, I think it is. Saunderson thenewspaper fellow let fall a hint that there was going to be a big fightover there. That was after Zulka went abroad so suddenly. They're goingto try and restore the ancient monarchy or something. Hand me thatvolume of the Encyclopedia--'H-o-r' to 'L-i-b' I think will cover it.I'll look up Krovitch. Thanks," and he was soon deeply engrossed in thedesired information.

  A copy of the Almanac de Gotha lay at his hand. Having avidly absorbedthe meagre narration of the country's history from the pages of theencyclopedia, his inquiring mind sought enlightenment as to the presentpersonnel of the house who had ruled the ancient race.

  The almanac disclosed no descendant of Stovik. Apparently the dynasty ofwhich he was the head had ceased with his deposition. "Humph," heejaculated, "here is something interesting. 'Sole descendant ofAugustus. Girl, twenty-two, name--Trusia.' Pretty, poetical--Trusia! Ilike it. Seems to me I'll be repeating that name a good deal. I wonderwhat she's like."

  He looked up again, his face glowing with enthusiasm. "Carrick," he saidindignantly, "that country ought to be free. Russia stole it by a shabbytrick. Two hundred years ago the reigning king of Krovitch was a chapcalled Stovik. The head of another royal family there named Augustus washis rival for the crown. Not being able to arouse much of a followingamong a loyal people, Augustus sought aid of his namesake, the Czar ofRussia, to help in his contest. Knowing that Augustus would be easilydisposed of once they got a foothold in Krovitch, the Russ, who had onlybeen waiting for some such pretext, gladly espoused his cause and threwan army of veterans across the length and breadth of the devoted land.Stovik was deposed and Russia put her dupe upon the throne. Europe stoodby and let that nation, which, single handed, had time and again savedthem from Moslem invasions, be annexed by the government at Moscow. I'mgoing there. I'll look up Zulka and get him to have me counted in ifthere's any fight going to occur."

  "And me too, sir," answered Carrick, standing like a stag who from apeak challenges his kind.

  Carter looked at the man with evident appreciation and a pleased smileanimated his face.

  "It will be the old days over again. I warn you, Carrick, you'll have tohustle to beat me up another hill."

  The Cockney laughed in the free masonry of their mutual reminiscences."All right, sir, forewarned is forearmed. How soon do we start?"

  "Just as soon as you can get our camp kits ready. We'll board the nextsteamer for Danzig. I think I'll take the big auto along, too. It maycome in handy."