"It's no wonder she loved him and--married him."

"He deserved the best that life could give, Miss Calhoun."

"You had better not call me Miss Calhoun, Colonel Quinnox," said she,

looking back apprehensively. "I am a highness once in a while, don't you

know?"

"I implore your highness's pardon!" said he gaily.

The riders ahead had come to a standstill and were pointing off into the

pass to their right. They were eight or ten miles from the city gates

and more than half way up the winding road that ended at the monastery

gates. Beverly and Quinnox came up with them and found all eyes centered

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on a small company of men encamped in the rocky defile a hundred yards

from the main road.

It needed but a glance to tell her who comprised the unusual

company. The very raggedness of their garments, the unforgetable

disregard for consequences, the impudent ease with which they faced

poverty and wealth alike, belonged to but one set of men--the vagabonds

of the Hawk and Raven. Beverly went a shade whiter; her interest in

everything else flagged, and she was lost in bewilderment. What freak of

fortune had sent these men out of the fastnesses into this dangerously

open place?

She recognized the ascetic Ravone, with his student's face and beggar's

garb. Old Franz was there, and so were others whose faces and

heterogeneous garments had become so familiar to her in another day. The

tall leader with the red feather, the rakish hat and the black patch

alone was missing; from the picture.

"It's the strangest-looking crew I've ever seen," said Anguish. "They

look like pirates."

"Or gypsies" suggested Yetive. "Who are they, Colonel Quinnox? What are

they doing here?" Quinnox was surveying the vagabonds with a critical,

suspicious eye.

"They are not robbers or they would be off like rabbits" he said

reflectively. "Your highness, there are many roving bands in the hills,

but I confess that these men are unlike any I have heard about. With

your permission, I will ride down and question them."

"Do, Quinnox. I am most curious."

Beverly sat very still and tense. She was afraid to look at Baldos, who

rode up as Quinnox started into the narrow defile, calling to the escort

to follow. The keen eyes of the guard caught the situation at once. Miss

Calhoun shot a quick glance at him as he rode up beside her. His face

was impassive, but she could see his hand clench the bridle-rein, and

there was an air of restraint in his whole bearing.

"Remember your promise," he whispered hoarsely. "No harm must come to

them." Then he was off into the defile. Anguish was not to be left

behind. He followed, and then Beverly, more venturesome and vastly more

interested than the others, rode recklessly after. Quinnox was

questioning the laconic Ravone when she drew rein. The vagabonds seemed

to evince but little interest in the proceedings. They stood away in

disdainful aloofness. No sign of recognition passed between them and

Baldos.




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