Truxton King: A Story of Graustark Part 38

"They'll have Dangloss hanging from a telephone; pole, Hobbs! Don't talk! Run!"

Soldiers came riding up from behind, turning to fire from their saddles into the throng of cutthroats, led by the grim old man with the b.l.o.o.d.y sabre. In the centre of the troop there was a flying carriage. The Duke of Perse was lying back in the seat, his face like that of a dead man.

Far ahead rattled the royal coach and the wildly flying carriages of state.

"The Prince is safe!" shouted King joyously. "They'll make it! Thank G.o.d!"

Colonel Quinnox turned in his saddle and searched out the owner of that stirring voice.

"Come!" he called, drawing rein as soon as he caught sight of him.

Even as King rushed out into the roadway a horseman galloped up from the direction of the Castle. He pulled his horse to his haunches almost as he was riding over the dodging American.

"Here!" shouted the newcomer, scowling down upon the young man. "Swing up here! Quick, you fool!"

It was Vos Engo, his face black with fury. Quinnox had seized the hand of Mr. Hobbs on seeing help for King and was pulling him up before him.

There was nothing for Truxton to do but to accept the timely help of his rival. An instant later he was up behind him and they were off after the last of the dragoons.

"If you don't mind, Count, I'll try my luck," grated the American.

Holding on with one arm, he turned and fired repeatedly in the direction of the howling crowd of rascals.

"Ride to the barracks gates, Vos Engo!" commanded Colonel Quinnox. "Be prepared to admit none but the Royal Reserves, who are under standing orders to report there in time of need."

"G.o.d grant that they may be able to come," responded the Count. Over his shoulder he hissed to his companion. "It was not idle heroics, my friend, nor philanthropy on my part. I was commanded to come and fetch you. She would never have spoken to me again if I had refused."

"She? Ah, yes; I see. Good! She did not forget me!" cried Truxton, his heart bounding.

"My own happiness depends on my luck in getting you to safety," rasped the Count. "My life's happiness. Understand, d.a.m.n you, it is not for you that I risk my life."

"I understand," murmured Truxton, a wry smile on his pale lips. "You mean, she is going to pay you in some way for picking me up, eh? Well, I'll put an end to that. I'll drop off again. Then you can ride on and tell her--I wouldn't be a party to the game. Do you catch my meaning?"

"You would, eh?" said the Count angrily. "I'd like to see you drop off while we're going at this--"

"I've got my pistol in the middle of your back," grated Truxton. "Slow up a bit or I'll scatter your vertebrae all over your system. Pull up!"

"As you like," cried Vos Engo. "I've done my part. Colonel Quinnox will bear witness." He began pulling his horse down. "Now, you are quite free to drop off."

Without a word the American swung his leg over and slid to the ground.

"Thanks for the lift you've given me," he called up to the astonished officer.

"Don't thank me," sang out his would-be saviour as he put spur to his horse.

It is a lamentable thing to say, but Truxton King's extraordinary sacrifice was not altogether the outgrowth of heroism. We have not been called upon at any time to question his courage; we have, on the other hand, seen times when he displayed the most arrant foolhardiness. I defy any one to prove, however, that he ever neglected an opportunity to better himself by strategy at the expense of fort.i.tude. Therefore, it is not surprising that even at such a time as this we may be called upon to record an example of his spectacular cunning.

Be sure of it, he did not decide to slide from Vos Engo's horse until he saw a way clear to better his position, and at the same time to lessen the glory of his unpleasant rescuer.

Less than a hundred yards behind loped a riderless horse; the dragoon who had sat the saddle was lying far back in the avenue, a bullet in his head. Hobbling to the middle of the road, the American threw up his hands and shouted briskly to the bewildered animal. Throwing his ears forward in considerable doubt, the horse came to a standstill close at hand. Five seconds later King was in the saddle and tearing along in the wake of the retreating guard, his hair blowing from his forehead, his blood leaping with the joy of achievement.

Mr. Hobbs afterward informed him that Count Vos Engo's oaths were worth going miles to avoid.

"We need such men as King!" cried Colonel Quinnox as he waited inside the gates for the wild rider. A moment later King dashed through and the ma.s.sive bolts were shot.

As he pulled up in front of the steward's lodge to await the orders of the Colonel, the exultant American completed the soliloquy that began with the mad impulse to ride into port under his own sails.

"I'll have to tell her that he did a fine thing in coming back for me, much as he hated to do it. What's more, I shan't say a word about his beastly temper. We'll let it pa.s.s. He deserves a whole lot for the part he played. I'll not forget it. Too bad he had to spoil it all by talking as he did. But, hang me, if he shall exact anything from her because he did a thing he didn't want to do. I took a darned sight bigger chance than he did, after all. Good Lord, what a mess I would have been in if the nag hadn't stopped! Whew! Well, old boy, you did stop, G.o.d bless you. Colonel," he spoke, as Quinnox came up, "do you think I can buy this horse? He's got more sense than I have."

Small bodies of foot soldiers and policemen fighting valiantly against great odds were admitted to the grounds during the next half hour.

Scores had been killed by the fierce, irregular attack of the revolutionists; others had become separated from their comrades and were even now being hunted down and destroyed by the infuriated followers of Marlanx. A hundred or more of the reserves reached the upper gates before it occurred to the enemy to blockade the streets in that neighbourhood. General Braze, with a few of his men, b.l.o.o.d.y and heartsick, was the last of the little army to reach safety in the Castle grounds, coming up by way of the lower gates from the fortress, which they had tried to reach after the first outbreak, but had found themselves forestalled.

The fortress, with all guns, stores and ammunition, was in the hands of the Iron Count and his cohorts.

Baron Dangloss had been taken prisoner with a whole platoon of fighting constables. This was the last appalling bit of news to reach the horrified, disorganised forces in the Castle grounds.

Citizens had fled to their homes, unmolested. The streets were empty, save for the armed minions of the Iron Count. They rushed hither and thither in violent detachments, seeking out the men in uniform, yelling and shooting like unmanageable savages.

Before two o'clock the city itself was in the hands of the hated enemy of the Crown. He and his aliens, malefactors and all, were in complete control of the fortress, the gates and approaches, the Tower and the b.l.o.o.d.y streets. A thousand of them,--eager, yelling ruffians,--marched to within firing distance of the Castle walls and held every approach against reinforcements. Except for the failure to destroy the Prince and his counsellors, the daring, unspeakable plans of Count Marlanx had been attended by the most horrifying results. He was master. There was no question as to that. The few hundred souls in the Castle grounds were like rats in a trap.

A wise as well as a cruel man was Marlanx. He lost no time in issuing a manifesto to the stunned, demoralised citizens of Edelweiss. Scores of criers went through the streets during the long, wretched afternoon, announcing to the populace that Count Marlanx had established himself as dictator and military governor of the princ.i.p.ality--pending the abdication of the Prince and the beginning of a new and substantial regime. All citizens were commanded to recognise the authority of the dictator; none except those who disobeyed or resented this authority would be molested. Traffic would be resumed on the following Monday.

Tradespeople and artisans were commanded to resume their occupations under penalty of extreme punishment in case of refusal. These and many other edicts were issued from Marlanx's temporary headquarters in the Plaza--almost at the foot of the still veiled monument of the beloved Princess Yetive.

Toward evening, after many consultations and countless reports, Marlanx removed his headquarters to the Tower. He had fondly hoped to be in the Castle long before this. His rage and disappointment over the stupid miscarriage of plans left no room for conjecture as to the actual state of his feelings. For hours he had raved like a madman. Every soldier who fell into his hands was shot down like a dog.

The cells and dungeons in the great old tower were now occupied by bruised, defeated officers of the law. Baron Jasto Dangloss, crushed in spirit and broken of body, paced the blackest and narrowest cell of them all. The gall and wormwood that filled his soul was not to be measured by words. He blamed himself for the catastrophe; it was he who had permitted this appalling thing to grow and burst with such sickening results. In his mind there was no doubt that Marlanx had completely overthrown the dynasty and was in full possession of the government. He did not know that the Prince and his court had succeeded in reaching the Castle, whose walls and gates were well-nigh impregnable to a.s.sault, even by a great army. If he had known this he might have rejoiced!

Late in the evening he received a visit from Marlanx, the new master.

The Iron Count, lighted by a ghostly lantern in the hands of a man who, ten hours before, had been a prisoner within these very walls, came up to the narrow grating that served as a door and gazed complacently upon the once great minister of police.

"Well," said Dangloss, his eyes snapping, "what is it, d.a.m.n you?"

Marlanx stroked his chin and smiled. "I believe this is my old confrere, Baron Dangloss," he remarked. "Dear me, I took you, sir, to be quite impeccable. Here you are, behind the bars. Will wonders never cease?"

Dangloss merely glared at him.

The Iron Count went on suavely: "You heard me, Baron. Still, I do not require an answer. How do you like your new quarters? It may please you to know that I am occupying your office, and also that n.o.ble suite overlooking the Plaza. I find myself most agreeably situated. By the way, Baron, I seem to recall something to mind as I look at you. You were the kindly disposed gentleman who escorted me to the city gates a few years ago and there turned me over to a detachment of soldiers, who, in turn, conveyed me to the border. If I recall the occasion rightly, you virtually kicked me out of the city. Am I right?"

"You are!" was all that the bitter Dangloss said, without taking his fierce gaze from the sallow face beyond the bars.

"I am happy to find that my memory is so good," said Marlanx.

"I expect to be able to repeat the operation," said Dangloss.

"How interesting! You forget that history never repeats itself."

"See here, Marlanx, what is your game? Speak up; I'm not afraid of you.

Do you intend to take me out and shoot me at sunrise?"

"Oh, dear me, no! That would be a silly proceeding. You own vast estates in Graustark, if I mistake not, just as I did eight or nine years ago.

Well, I have come into my own again. The Crown relieved me of my estates, my citizens.h.i.+p, my honour. I have waited long to regain them.