Prince Gabriel was in complete control at Serros and was disposed to

laugh at the demands of his late captors. His half-brother, the

dethroned Prince Dantan, was still hiding in the fastnesses of the

hills, protected by a small company of nobles, and there was no hope

that he ever could regain his crown. Gabriel's power over the army was

supreme. The general public admired Dantan, but it was helpless in the

face of circumstances.

"But why should Axphain seek to harass Graustark at this time?" demanded

Beverly Calhoun, in perplexity and wrath. "I should think the brutes

would try to help her."

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"There is an element of opposition to the course the government is

taking," the officer informed her in his own way, "but it is greatly in

the minority. The Axphainians have hated Graustark since the last war,

and the princess despises this American. It is an open fact that the

Duke of Mizrox leads the opposition to Princess Volga, and she is sure

to have him beheaded if the chance affords. He is friendly to Graustark

and has been against the policy of his princess from the start."

"I'd like to hug the Duke of Mizrox," cried Beverly, warmly. The officer

did not understand her, but Aunt Fanny was scandalized.

"Good Lawd!" she muttered to the boxes and bags.

As the coach rolled deeper and deeper into the rock-shadowed wilderness,

Beverly Calhoun felt an undeniable sensation of awe creeping over

her. The brave, impetuous girl had plunged gaily into the project which

now led her into the deadliest of uncertainties, with but little thought

of the consequences.

The first stage of the journey by coach had been good fun. They had

passed along pleasant roads, through quaint villages and among

interesting people, and progress had been rapid. The second stage had

presented rather terrifying prospects, and the third day promised even

greater vicissitudes. Looking from the coach windows out upon the quiet,

desolate grandeur of her surroundings, poor Beverly began to appreciate

how abjectly helpless and alone she was. Her companions were ugly,

vicious-looking men, any one of whom could inspire terror by a look. She

had entrusted herself to the care of these strange creatures in the

moment of inspired courage and now she was constrained to regret her

action. True, they had proved worthy protectors as far as they had gone,

but the very possibilities that lay in their power were appalling, now

that she had time to consider the situation.

The officer in charge had been recommended as a trusted servant of the

Czar; an American consul had secured the escort for her direct from the

frontier patrol authorities. Men high in power had vouched for the

integrity of the detachment, but all this was forgotten in the mighty

solitude of the mountains. She was beginning to fear her escort more

than she feared the brigands of the hills.




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