The Puppet Crown [39]
no gainsaying that."
Maurice said some more uncomplimentary things.
"It was neatly done, you will admit. Life is a game of cards; he wins who plays first."
"Or he doesn't. Colonel, a game is won only when it is played'."
"That's true enough."
"Kings are a tolerable bother on earth," Maurice declared, trying to ease his wrists by holding them higher against his back.
"What do you know about them?"
"When I was in the army I often fell in with three or four of a night."
"Eh?--kings?"
"Yes; but usually I was up against aces or straight flushes."
"Cards! Well, well; when you get down to the truth of the matter, real kings differ but little from the kings in pasteboard; right side up, or wrong side up, they serve the purpose of those who play them. There's a poor, harmless devil back there," with a nod toward Bleiberg. "He never injured a soul. Perhaps that's it; had he been cruel, avaricious, sly, all of them would be cringing at his feet. Devil take me--but I'm a soldier," he broke off abruptly; "it's none of my business."
"Have you any titles?" Maurice asked presently.
"Titles?" The Colonel jerked around on his horse. "Why?"
"O," said Maurice carelessly, "I thought it not unlikely that you might have a few lying around loose."
The Colonel roared. "You Americans beat the very devil with your questions. Well, I am politely known as Count Mollendorf, if that will gratify you."
"What! brother of Mollendorf of the king's police?"
"God save the mark! No; I am an honest man --some of the time."
Maurice laughed; the old fellow was amusing, and besides, this conversation helped to pass away the time.
"Wake up, Jack; here's entertainment," he said.
A scowl added itself to the stern expression on Fitzgerald's face.
"I trust that none of your teeth are loose," ventured the Colonel.
"If they are, they'll be tight enough ere many days have passed," was the threatening reply.
"Beware the dog!" cried the Colonel, and he resumed his place at the head of the little troop.
Maurice took this opportunity to bend toward Fitzgerald. "Have you anything of importance about you?" he whispered significantly.
"Nothing. But God send that no chambermaid change the sheet in my bed at the hotel."
"Are they--"
"Silence." Fitzgerald saw the trooper next with his hand to his ear.
After a time the Colonel sang out: "Fifteen miles more, with three on the other side, men; we must put more life into us. A trot for a few miles. The quicker the ride is done, baron, the quicker the surgeon will look to your arm."
And silence fell upon the troop. Occasionally a stray horse in the fields whinneyed, and was answered from the road; sometimes the howl of a dog broke the monotony. On and on they rode; hour and mile were left behind them. The moon fell lower and lower, and the mountains rose higher and higher, and the wind which had risen had a frosty sting to it. Maurice now began to show the true state of his temper by cursing his horse whenever it rubbed against one of its fellows. His back was lame, and there was a dull pain in one of his shoulders. When he had made the rush for the door, clubbing right and left with the empty revolvers, he had finally been thrown on an overturned chair.
"Here, hang you!" he said to the trooper who held the bridle of his horse, "I'm cold; you might at least turn up my collar about my throat."
"You are welcome to my cloak," said the trooper, disengaging that article from his shoulders.
"Thank you," said Maurice, somewhat abashed by the respectful tone.
The trooper offered his blanket to Fitzgerald.
"I wish no favors," said the Englishman, thanklessly.
The trooper shrugged, and caught up Maurice's bridle.
At length the troop arrived at the frontier. There was no sign of life at the barrack. They passed unchallenged.
"What!" exclaimed Maurice, "do they sleep here at night, then? A fine frontier barrack." He had lived in hopes of more disturbance and a possible chance for liberty.
"They will
Maurice said some more uncomplimentary things.
"It was neatly done, you will admit. Life is a game of cards; he wins who plays first."
"Or he doesn't. Colonel, a game is won only when it is played'."
"That's true enough."
"Kings are a tolerable bother on earth," Maurice declared, trying to ease his wrists by holding them higher against his back.
"What do you know about them?"
"When I was in the army I often fell in with three or four of a night."
"Eh?--kings?"
"Yes; but usually I was up against aces or straight flushes."
"Cards! Well, well; when you get down to the truth of the matter, real kings differ but little from the kings in pasteboard; right side up, or wrong side up, they serve the purpose of those who play them. There's a poor, harmless devil back there," with a nod toward Bleiberg. "He never injured a soul. Perhaps that's it; had he been cruel, avaricious, sly, all of them would be cringing at his feet. Devil take me--but I'm a soldier," he broke off abruptly; "it's none of my business."
"Have you any titles?" Maurice asked presently.
"Titles?" The Colonel jerked around on his horse. "Why?"
"O," said Maurice carelessly, "I thought it not unlikely that you might have a few lying around loose."
The Colonel roared. "You Americans beat the very devil with your questions. Well, I am politely known as Count Mollendorf, if that will gratify you."
"What! brother of Mollendorf of the king's police?"
"God save the mark! No; I am an honest man --some of the time."
Maurice laughed; the old fellow was amusing, and besides, this conversation helped to pass away the time.
"Wake up, Jack; here's entertainment," he said.
A scowl added itself to the stern expression on Fitzgerald's face.
"I trust that none of your teeth are loose," ventured the Colonel.
"If they are, they'll be tight enough ere many days have passed," was the threatening reply.
"Beware the dog!" cried the Colonel, and he resumed his place at the head of the little troop.
Maurice took this opportunity to bend toward Fitzgerald. "Have you anything of importance about you?" he whispered significantly.
"Nothing. But God send that no chambermaid change the sheet in my bed at the hotel."
"Are they--"
"Silence." Fitzgerald saw the trooper next with his hand to his ear.
After a time the Colonel sang out: "Fifteen miles more, with three on the other side, men; we must put more life into us. A trot for a few miles. The quicker the ride is done, baron, the quicker the surgeon will look to your arm."
And silence fell upon the troop. Occasionally a stray horse in the fields whinneyed, and was answered from the road; sometimes the howl of a dog broke the monotony. On and on they rode; hour and mile were left behind them. The moon fell lower and lower, and the mountains rose higher and higher, and the wind which had risen had a frosty sting to it. Maurice now began to show the true state of his temper by cursing his horse whenever it rubbed against one of its fellows. His back was lame, and there was a dull pain in one of his shoulders. When he had made the rush for the door, clubbing right and left with the empty revolvers, he had finally been thrown on an overturned chair.
"Here, hang you!" he said to the trooper who held the bridle of his horse, "I'm cold; you might at least turn up my collar about my throat."
"You are welcome to my cloak," said the trooper, disengaging that article from his shoulders.
"Thank you," said Maurice, somewhat abashed by the respectful tone.
The trooper offered his blanket to Fitzgerald.
"I wish no favors," said the Englishman, thanklessly.
The trooper shrugged, and caught up Maurice's bridle.
At length the troop arrived at the frontier. There was no sign of life at the barrack. They passed unchallenged.
"What!" exclaimed Maurice, "do they sleep here at night, then? A fine frontier barrack." He had lived in hopes of more disturbance and a possible chance for liberty.
"They will