Truxton King: A Story of Graustark Part 36

Oh, how easy!"

Whereupon he proceeded to kick the unoffending breakfast, cigarettes and all, out of the car door. To their dying day they were to believe that the food had been put there by agents of the great conspirator. It readily may be surmised that neither of them was given to sensible deductions during their astounding flight. If they had thought twice, they might have seen the folly of their quick conclusions. Marlanx's men would not have sent Loraine off in a manner like this. But the distracted pair were not in an a.n.a.lytical frame of mind just then; that is why the gentle munificence of Sir Vagabond came to a barren waste.

Mile after mile flew by. The unwilling travellers, depressed beyond description, had given up all hope of leaving the car until it reached the point intended by the wily plotters. To their amazement, however, the speed began to slacken perceptibly after they had left the city ten or twelve miles behind. Truxton was leaning against the side of the door, gloomily surveying the bright, green landscape. For some time Loraine had been steadying herself by clinging to his arm. They had cast off the unsightly rain coats and other clumsy articles. Once, through sheer inability to control his impulses, he had placed his arm about her slim waist, but she had gently freed herself. Her look of reproach was sufficient to check all future impulses of a like nature.

"h.e.l.lo!" 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 sudden energy of speech.

"They're running slow for the bridge. Afraid of the floods. D'ye see? If they creep up to it as they do in the United States when they're cautious, we'll politely drop off and--'Pon my soul, she's coming down to 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 the strong crook of his left arm, slid down to a sitting position, and boldly pushed himself clear of the car, landing on his feet. Staggering forward with the impetus he had received, he would have fallen except for a mighty effort. A sharp groan escaped his lips as he lowered her to the ground. She looked anxiously into his face and saw nothing there but relief.

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

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

He had turned his ankle in the leap to the ground. She was deeply concerned, but he sought to laugh it off. Gritting his teeth determinedly, 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. We can'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 till we get word to Dangloss!"

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

They stopped the cart and bargained for a ride to Ronn. The man was a farmer, 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's acquaintance with the language of the country.

"Don't tell him why we are in such a hurry," cautioned King. "He may be a 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," he protested. "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 this time. This is the great day there. The statue of--"

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

"With these beasts, poor things? Never!"

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

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

"The rascals have made way with the beautiful Miss Tullis. She is the American lady stopping at the Castle. You should see her, sir. Excepting our dear Princess Yetive--G.o.d rest her soul--she is the most beautiful creature Graustark has ever seen. I have seen her often. Not quite so grand as the Countess Ingomede, but fairer, believe me. She is beloved by everyone. Many a kind and generous word has she spoken to me. My onion beds are well known to her. She has come to my farm time and again, sir, with the n.o.ble personages, while riding, and she has in secret bought my little slips of onions. She has said to me that she adores them, but that she can only eat them in secret. Ah, sir, it is a sad day for Graustark that evil has happened to her. Her brother, they say, is off in the Dawsbergen hills searching for her. He is a grand man."

His pa.s.sengers were duly interested. She nudged the lugubrious Truxton when 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 is gone, I don't know what he will do. Suicide, mayhap. Many is the time I have 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 a sudden thought. The man faced him at the mention of the name, a suspicious gleam in his eyes.

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

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

Five minutes later, the farmer, overcome by the stupendous news, was las.h.i.+ng his oxen with might and main; the astonished beasts tore down the road to Ronn so bravely that there seemed some prospect of getting a telegram through in time. All the way the excited countryman groaned and swore and sputtered his prayers. At Ronn they learned that the operator had been unable to call Edelweiss since seven o'clock. The wires were down or had been cut. Truxton left a message to be sent to Dangloss in case he could get the wire, and off they started again for the city gates, having lost considerable time by the diverted mile or two.

Not man, woman or child did they encounter as the miles crept by. The country was barren of humanity. Ahead of them was the ascent to be conquered by oxen so old and feeble that the prospect was more than dubious.

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

G.o.d preserve us!"

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

In time the city gates came in sight--far up the straight, narrow road.

"Pray G.o.d we may not be too late," groaned the farmer. "d.a.m.n the swine who took their horses to town before the sun was up. Curse them for fools and imbeciles. Fools never get into heaven. Thank the good Lord for that."

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

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

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

It was she who had the solution. They might succeed in pa.s.sing the gates if they hid themselves in the bed of the cart, underneath the thick canvas covering. The farmer lifted the cloth and they crawled down among the melons. In this fas.h.i.+on they not only covered the remainder of the distance, half stifled by the heat and half murdered by the uncomfortable position, but pa.s.sed through the gates and were taken clattering 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 the crowds are too great."

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