Part 20 (1/2)
At the same moment her voice died away into a low whine, then rose into a howl such as an animal gives in pain. Struggling from her husband's arms she leaped from the sleigh.
Instantly Hans followed, holding out his arms piteously and calling, ”Ursula! Ursula!”
But the white, furry figure did not hear. It was hurrying forward toward the great bear.
”Come to me, my Child!” said the bear again. ”Leave the wicked man who betrayed his friend and sought to kill her. Come, let us punish him!”
Her words ended in a fierce growl, which was echoed by the other white figure, as she turned about and looked at Hans. And oh, what was this!
With horror he saw that his little bride had, indeed, turned into a furry white bear. Her eyes burned red and angry as she looked at him, and she showed her teeth as if her mother's words had turned all her love of Hans into hatred, for the old bear's sake.
She seemed about to spring upon Hans and tear him to pieces. But suddenly her look changed. She folded her paws upon her furry breast, and Hans saw tears, human tears, come into the little bear's eyes. It was the last token of her human life, the last gleam of her fondness for him. She could not punish him as her mother bade. She would not let evil happen to him, even though he had done such a cruel wrong, because she had once been his little Ursula.
Dropping upon all fours she ran toward her mother, and they laid noses together for their first caress. She seemed to say something to the old bear in a silent language, which was answered by a deep, sullen growl.
After this, without a further glance at Hans, the two bears turned about and trotted away together into the forest. Hans the Hunter never saw them again.
But after that the gun of Hans hung rusty on the wall of his lonely hut.
The hard spot in his heart had melted.
XXI
RED REX AND KING VICTOR
Hardly had Harold finished speaking these last words in the tragic story of the Bear's Daughter, when there arose from the market-place such a hubbub and commotion that the Red King's comments on the tale were quite lost. Voices were shouting and cheering; trumpets were blowing and drums beating; over the clang of weapons and neighing of horses one caught the _tramp, tramp_ of marching feet.
Red Rex sprang to his feet, drawing his sword and growing very red in the face. Once again he was the fierce and terrible War-Lord. But Harold did not notice. He was too much excited at the tumult going on outside.
He ran hastily to the window and looked out. The square was full of soldiers and banners and gayly decked horses. Men-at-arms crowded the side streets, pouring continuously into the square. The ruined porch of the library was crowded. A guard stood at the portal.
In the center of the square, bestriding a white horse, sat a stately figure, dressed all in white armor. His snowy head was uncovered and he spoke to the cheering people smilingly.
A great shout arose as he finished his speech. ”Long live our good King Victor!”
Harold joined in the shout. ”Hurrah! Hurrah!”
And Robert and Richard, scrambling up beside him, echoed the cheer,--”Hurrah! Hurrah! Long live King Victor!”
”Our good King has come to Kisington at last!” cried Harold, turning back into the library.
He had quite forgotten his warlike guest and why King Victor had come to Kisington. Indeed, for the moment every one seemed to have forgotten Red Rex. The Librarian, the Lord Mayor, and the other Leading Citizens had disappeared, and the library seemed quite empty. But in one corner of the alcove where the last story had been read, Red Rex was standing at bay. He had drawn up before him a heavy table, behind which he stood, sword in hand, one foot advanced, his red beard bristling.
”Yes, I am trapped!” snarled Red Rex. ”You have caught me, boy. But you shall pay for this!”
Harold and the Red King stood staring at one another. The _tramp, tramp_ of feet sounded on the staircase, coming nearer. Along the hall came the tread. The door of the hall opened, and a martial group crossed the threshold. Foremost came their King, King Victor himself, the splendid, white-haired peace hero. The three boys dropped each on one knee before him.
For a moment the King stood gazing about him mildly, without speaking.
He was tall and stately, but his eyes were kind, even merry, and with all his dignity there was nothing to strike fear even into the heart of a child. Presently his eyes caught the figure of the trapped War-Lord, barricaded and at bay in the corner.
He stepped forward with a friendly air and held out his hand. ”Welcome, Cousin!” he said in a hearty voice.
Red Rex glared at him, fairly bristling with rage. ”Do not mock me!” he bl.u.s.tered. ”I know well enough that I have been trapped and that the word of the Lord Mayor of this town, given to me, will not count now.
But you shall not take me alive. I will slay the first who lays hand on me!” He waved his sword furiously. Harold had never seen him look so terrible.