The silver messenger. (Challis, Idaho) 1890-1912, 1906-12-11
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Prince Wasp.
CHAPTER VIII.

Prince Wasp.
$50" he said, as he faced the
secretary, now somewhat compositely
styled, Johann, Count Won Leon, $50
young springald, you think to court a
foolish princess. You play upon her
with your pretty words and graceful
compliments. That is an agreeable
relaxation. Only-you have in addi-
tion to reckon with me, Ivan, heredi-
tary Prince of Muscovy."
And with a sweep of his hand
across his body he drew his sword
from it's sheath.
The sword of the young secretary
came into hand with equal swiftness.
Follow me, Count Won Loen," said
the prince.
And with his 1.-THE and springy walk
the Prince of Muscovy passed again
into the alleys of the rose garden till
he reached the first open space, where
he turned upon the secretary.
I'VE are arrived" he said, "our bust
ness is so pressing, and will be so
quickly finished, that there is no need
for the formality of seconds. Though
l honor you by crossing my sword
with yours, it is a mere formality.
have such skill of the weapon, as l
dare say report has told you, that you
may consider yourself dead already.
Guard!"
But Johann Pyrmont had been
trained in school which permitted
no such windy preludes, and with the
fencer's smile on his face he kept
his silence. His sword would an
swer all such boastings, and that in
good time.
And so it fell out.
From the very first crossing of the
swords Prince Wasp found himself
opposed by a quicker eye, a firmer
wrist, a method and science infinitely
superior to his own. His most dash
ing attack was repealed with apparent
ease, yet with subtlety which inter
posed nothing but the most delicate
of guards and parties between Prince
Ivan and victory This gradually in
furiated the prince, till suddenly los
ing his temper he stamped his foot in
anger and rushed upon his foe with
the true Muscovite fire.
But loi the blade was turned aside,
the long-delayed answering thrust
glittered out, and the secretary s
sword stood a couple of hand-breadths
in the boosters shoulder.
The prince staggered, cried out
some unintelligible words in the Mus
covite language, and pitched forward
slowly on his face among the tram
| pied leaves and blown rose-petals of
the palace garden.
The secretary grew paler than his
wont, and ran to lift his fallen enemy.
But, all unseen, other eyes had watch
ed the combat, and from the door by
which they had entered, and from
behind the trees of the surrounding
| glade, there came the noise of pound
ing footsteps and fierce cries of
"Seize him! Kill him! Tear him to
pieces! He has slain the good prince,
the friend of the people! The Prince
Ivan is dead!"
The secretary eyed this unkempt
horde with naughty scorn, and his
fearless attitude, as he striped his
stained sword through his handker-
chief and threw the linen away, had
something to do with the fact that the
rabble halted at the distance of half
a dozen yards and for many minutes
contented themselves with hurting
| oaths and imprecations at him.
AT last they did come on, not all
together, but in irregular, undiscip-
| lined rushes. Johann's sword streaked
out this way and that. There was an
answering cry of pain, a turmoil
among the assailants as wounded
man whirled his way backward out of
the press. But this could not last
for long. The odds we're too great.
Then suddenly came voice: Back
| on your lives, dogs and traitors! Ger