"When you have eaten of our humble fare, your highness,--the last meal
at the Hawk and Raven."
"But I'm not a bit hungry."
"It is very considerate of you, but equally unreasonable. You must eat
before we start."
"I can't bear the thought of your suffering when we should be hurrying
to a hospital and competent surgeons." He laughed gaily. "Oh, you
needn't laugh. I know it hurts. You say we cannot reach Ganlook before
to-morrow? Well, we can't stop here a minute longer than we--Oh, thank
you!" A ragged servitor had placed a rude bowl of meat and some fruit
before her.
"Sit down here, your highness, and prepare yourself for a long fast. We
may go until nightfall without food. The game is scarce and we dare not
venture far into the hills."
Beverly sat at his feet and daintily began the operation of picking a
bone with her pretty fingers teeth. "I am sorry we have no knives and
forks" he apologized.
"I don't mind"' said she. "I wish you would remove that black patch."
"Alas, I must resume the hated disguise. A chance enemy might recognize
me."
"Your--your clothes have been mended," she remarked with a furtive
glance at his long legs. The trousers had been rudely sewed up and no
bandages were visible. "Are you--your legs terribly hurt???"
"They are badly scratched, but not seriously. The bandages are skilfully
placed," he added, seeing her look of doubt. "Ravone is a genius."
"Well, I'll hurry," she said, blushing deeply. Goat-hunter though he was
and she a princess, his eyes gleamed with the joy of her beauty and his
heart thumped with a most unruly admiration. "You were very, very brave
last night," she said at last--and her rescuer smiled contentedly.
She was not long in finishing the rude but wholesome meal, and then
announced her readiness to be on the way. With the authority of a
genuine princess she commanded him to ride inside the coach, gave
incomprehensible directions to the driver and to the escort, and would
listen to none of his protestations. When the clumsy vehicle was again
in the highway and bumping over the ridges of flint, the goat-hunter was
beside his princess on the rear seat, his feet upon the opposite
cushions near Aunt Fanny, a well-arranged bridge of boxes and bags
providing support for his long legs.
"We want to go to a hospital," Beverly had said to the driver, very much
as she might have spoken had she been in Washington. She was standing
bravely beside the forewheel, her face flushed and eager. Baldos, from
his serene position on the cushions, watched her with kindling eyes. The
grizzled driver grinned and shook his head despairingly. "Oh, pshaw! You
don't understand, do you? Hospital--h-o-s-p-i-t-a-l," she spelt it out
for him, and still he shook his head. Others in the motley retinue were
smiling broadly.