om humble life.

"No, Your Majesty," replied Carter, no whit annoyed by the other's
ill-temper; "I never threaten. I promise." That was all that was said.
Neither Eugene Delmotte in his proper person nor the future ruler of
Krovitch was able, however, to withstand the cool, hard glitter in the
American's eyes.

They boarded the waiting train as they came to this understanding. King
Stovik's conduct for this new journey was exemplary. Nor were there
other pretty coquettes available. He even exerted himself sufficiently
to take an interest in the general conversation, at which Trusia's face
brightened with appreciation.

Houses, fields, woods, mountains and sky fled by as the train sped on.
At last the Vistula was crossed. Trusia's face grew radiant as the
landmarks of her country began to appear on every hand. With grumbling
wheels the cars drew nearer Schallberg.

"See, away off there to the northeast. There, that tiny speck against
the sky," she cried rapturously as one returning home from a long
sojourn abroad. "That is my castle. Do you see it, Your Majesty?" she
asked, as she turned appealingly to him. "Schallberg, your capital, lies
this side of it. The city is in a valley on the far side of this
mountain we are now climbing." The whole party were peering out of the
windows on the rapidly changing landscape, eagerly awaiting the first
view of the place of their hopes.

The train, sobbing out its protests against the steep ascent, soon
brought them into a region of puzzling circumstances. Flashing past
rural crossroads, they could see large groups of excited peasants
talking, gesticulating and laughing, as they one and all were pointing
in the direction of the capital. To their greater bewilderment, videttes
in jaunty black and gold could be seen, as if courting publicity,
patroling the public highways.

"What can it mean?" asked Trusia, whose heart beat wildly with a surmise
she dare not voice.

The crest of the mountain was reached. The city lay spread before them.
Over the Government buildings floated the Lion of Krovitch. The
standard, waving gently in the breeze, seemed beckoning them to
approach.

"The city is ours," burst simultaneously from their lips. The train in
one headlong descent drew up at the station at Schallberg.

Looking out they could see a multitude of eager, expectant faces turned
trainward. All Schallberg and most of the surrounding country had
congregated to welcome their sovereig