CHAPTER IV
THE RAGGED RETINUE
Thoroughly mystified by the action of the driver and at length terrifiedby the pace that carried them careening along the narrow road, Beverlycried out to him, her voice shrill with alarm. Aunt Fanny was crouchingon the floor of the coach, between the seats, groaning and praying.
"Stop! Where are you going?" cried Beverly, putting her head recklesslythrough the window. If the man heard her he gave no evidence of thefact. His face was set forward and he was guiding the horses with afirm, unquivering hand. The coach rattled and bounded along thedangerous way hewn in the side of the mountain. A misstep or a falseturn might easily start the clumsy vehicle rolling down the declivity onthe right. The convict was taking desperate chances, and with a cool,calculating brain, prepared to leap to the ground in case of accidentand save himself, without a thought for the victims inside.
"Stop! Turn around!" she cried in a frenzy. "We shall be killed! Are youcrazy?"
By this time they had struck a descent in the road and were rushingalong at breakneck speed into oppressive shadows that bore the firstimprints of night. Realizing at last that her cries were falling uponpurposely deaf ears, Beverly Calhoun sank back into the seat, weak andterror-stricken. It was plain to her that the horses were not runningaway, for the man had been lashing them furiously. There was but oneconclusion: he was deliberately taking her farther into the mountainfastnesses, his purpose known only to himself. A hundred terrorspresented themselves to her as she lay huddled against the side of thecoach, her eyes closed tightly, her tender body tossed furiously aboutwith the sway of the vehicle. There was the fundamental fear that shewould be dashed to death down the side of the mountain, but apart fromthis her quick brain was evolving all sorts of possible endings--noneshort of absolute disaster.
Even as she prayed that something might intervene to check the mad rushand to deliver her from the horrors of the moment, the raucous voice ofthe driver was heard calling to his horses and the pace becameslower. The awful rocking and the jolting grew less severe, the clatterresolved itself into a broken rumble, and then the coach stopped with amighty lurch.
Dragging herself from the corner, poor Beverly Calhoun, no longer adisdainful heroine, gazed piteously out into the shadows, expecting themurderous blade of the driver to meet her as she did so. Pauloff hadswung from the box of the coach and was peering first into the woodlandbelow and then upon the rocks to the left. He wore the expression of aman trapped and seeking means of escape. Suddenly he darted behind thecoach, almost brushing against Beverly's hat as he passed thewindow. She opened her lips to call to him, but even as she did so hetook to his heels and raced back over the road they had traveled soprecipitously.
Overcome by surprise and dismay, she only could watch the flight insilence. Less than a hundred feet from where the coach was standing heturned to the right and was lost among the rocks. Ahead, four horses,covered with sweat, were panting and heaving as if in great distressafter their mad run. Aunt Fanny was still moaning and praying by turnsin the bottom of the carriage. Darkness was settling down upon the pass,and objects a hundred yards away were swallowed by the gloom. There wasno sound save the blowing of the tired animals and the moaning of theold negress. Beverly realized with a sinking heart that they were aloneand helpless in the mountains with night upon them.
She never knew where the strength and courage came from, but she forcedopen the stubborn coachdoor and scrambled to the ground, lookingfrantically in all directions for a single sign of hope. In the mostdespairing terror she had ever experienced, she started toward the leadhorses, hoping against hope that at least one of her men had remainedfaithful.
A man stepped quietly from the inner side of the road and advanced withthe uncertain tread of one who is overcome by amazement. He was astranger, and wore an odd, uncouth garb. The failing light told her thathe was not one of her late protectors. She shrank back with a faint cryof alarm, ready to fly to the protecting arms of hopeless Aunt Fanny ifher uncertain legs could carry her. At the same instant another raggedstranger, then two, three, four, or five, appeared as if by magic, somenear her, others approaching from the shadows.
"Who--who in heaven's name are you?" she faltered. The sound of her ownvoice in a measure restored the courage that had been paralyzed.Unconsciously this slim sprig of southern valor threw back her shouldersand lifted her chin. If they were brigands they should not find her acringing coward. After all, she was a Calhoun.
The man she had first observed stopped near the horses' heads and peeredintently at her from beneath a broad and rakish hat. He was tall andappeared to be more respectably clad than his fellows, although therewas not one who looked as though he possessed a complete outfit ofwearing apparel.
"Poor wayfarers, may it please your highness," replied the tallvagabond, bowing low. To her surprise he spoke in very good English; hisvoice was clear, and there was a tinge of polite irony in the tones."But all people are alike in the mountains. The king and the thief, theprincess and the jade live in the common fold," and his hat swung solow that it touched the ground.
"I am powerless. I only implore you to take what valuables you may findand let us proceed unharmed--" she cried, rapidly, eager to have itover.
"Pray, how can your highness proceed? You have no guide, no driver, noescort," said the man, mockingly. Beverly looked at him appealingly,utterly without words to reply. The tears were welling to her eyes andher heart was throbbing like that of a captured bird. In after life shewas able to picture in her mind's eye all the details of that tableau inthe mountain pass--the hopeless coach, the steaming horses, the rakishbandit, and his picturesque men, the towering crags, and a mite of agirl facing the end of everything.
"Your highness is said to be brave, but even your wonderful courage canavail nothing in this instance," said the leader, pleasantly. "Yourescort has fled as though pursued by something stronger than shadows;your driver has deserted; your horses are half-dead; you are indeed, asyou have said, powerless. And you are, besides all these, in theclutches of a band of merciless cutthroats."
"Oh," moaned Beverly, suddenly leaning against the fore wheel, her eyesalmost starting from her head. The leader laughed quietly--yes,good-naturedly. "Oh, you won't--you won't kill us?" She had time toobserve that there were smiles on the faces of all the men within thecircle of light.
"Rest assured, your highness," said the leader, leaning upon hisrifle-barrel with careless grace, "we intend no harm to you. Every manyou meet in Graustark is not a brigand, I trust, for your sake. We aresimple hunters, and not what we may seem. It is fortunate that you havefallen into honest hands. There is someone in the coach?" he asked,quickly alert. A prolonged groan proved to Beverly that Aunt Fanny hadscrewed up sufficient courage to look out of the window.
"My old servant," she half whispered. Then, as several of the menstarted toward the door: "But she is old and wouldn't harm afly. Please, please don't hurt her."
"Compose yourself; she is safe," said the leader. By this time it wasquite dark. At a word from him two or three men lighted lanterns. Thepicture was more weird than ever in the fitful glow. "May I ask, yourhighness, how do you intend to reach Edelweiss in your presentcondition. You cannot manage those horses, and besides, you do not knowthe way."
"Aren't you going to rob us?" demanded Beverly, hope springing to thesurface with a joyful bound. The stranger laughed heartily, and shookhis head.
"Do we not look like honest men?" he cried, with a wave of his handtoward his companions. Beverly looked dubious. "We live the good, cleanlife of the wilderness. Out-door life is necessary for our health. Wecould not live in the city," he went on with grim humor. For the firsttime, Beverly noticed that he wore a huge black patch over his left eye,held in place by a cord. He appeared more formidable than ever under thelight of critical inspection.
Beverly of Graustark Page 4
