Part 4 (1/2)
The Duke looked down in amazement into the flushed, writhing face of his little master. For a moment he was stunned by the vigorous outburst.
Then the hard lines in his face relaxed and a softer expression came into his eyes--there was something like pride in them, too. The Duke, be it said, was an honest fighter and a loyal Graustarkian; he loved his Prince and, therefore, he gloried in his courage. His own smile of amus.e.m.e.nt, which broke in spite of his inordinate vanity, was the sign that brought relief to the hearts of his scandalised _confreres_.
”Your Highness does well in defending a friend and counsellor,” he said gently. ”I am sorry to have forgotten myself in your presence. It shall not occur again. Pray forgive me.”
Prince Bobby was still unappeased. ”I _could_ have you beheaded,” he said stubbornly. ”Couldn't I, Uncle Caspar?”
Count Halfont gravely informed him that it was not customary to behead gentlemen except for the most heinous offences against the Crown.
The Duke of Perse suddenly bent forward and placed his bony hand upon the unshrinking shoulder of the Prince, his eyes gleaming kindly, his voice strangely free from its usual harshness. ”You are a splendid little man, Prince Robin,” he said. ”I glory in you. I shall not forget the lesson in loyalty that you have taught me.”
Bobby's eyes filled with tears. The genuine humility of the hard old man touched his tempestuous little heart.
”It's--it's all right, Du--your Grace. I'm sorry I spoke that way, too.”
Baron Dangloss twisted his imperial vigorously. ”My lords, I suggest that we adjourn. The Prince must have his ride and return in time for the review at one o'clock.”
As the Prince strode soberly from the Room of Wrangles, every eye was upon his st.u.r.dy little back and there was a kindly light in each of them, bar none. The Duke, following close behind with Halfont, said quietly:
”I love him, Caspar. But I have no love for the man he loves so much better than he loves any of us. Tullis is a meddler--but, for Heaven's sake, my friend, don't let; Bobby know that I have repeated myself.”
Later on, the Prince in his khaki riding suit loped gaily down the broad mountain road toward Ganlook, beside the black mare which carried John Tullis. Behind them rode three picked troopers from the House Guard. He had told Tullis of his vainglorious defence in the antechamber.
”And I told him, Uncle Jack, that you could lick him. You can, can't you?”
The American's face was clouded for a second; then, to please the boy, a warm smile succeeded the frown.
”Why, Bobby, you dear little beggar, he could thresh me with one hand.”
”What?” almost shrieked Prince Bobby, utterly dismayed.
”He's a better swordsman than I, don't you see. Gentlemen over here fight with swords. I know nothing about duelling. He'd get at me in two thrusts.”
”I--I think you'd better take some lessons from Colonel Quinnox. It won't do to be caught napping.”
”I daresay you're right.”
”Say, Uncle Jack, when are you going to take me to the witch's hovel?”
The new thought abruptly banished all else from his eager little brain.
”Some day, soon,” said Tullis. ”You see, I'm not sure that she's receiving visitors these days. A witch is a very arbitrary person. Even princes have to send up their cards.”
”Let's telegraph her,” in an inspired tone.
”I'll arrange to go up with you very soon, Bobby. It's a hard ride through the pa.s.s and--and there may be a lot of goblins up there where the old woman keeps herself.”
The witch's hovel was in the mountain across the most rugged of the canyons, and was to be reached only after the most hazardous of rides.
The old woman of the hills was an ancient character about whom clung a thousand spookish traditions, but who, in the opinion of John Tuilis, was nothing more than a wise fortune-teller and necromancer who knew every trick in the trade of hoodwinking the superst.i.tious. He had seen her and he had been properly impressed. Somehow, he did not like the thought of taking the Prince to the cabin among the mists and crags.