Pleasantville weekly press., 1910-08-06
CHAPTER l.
SOME IN RAGS.


IN patches and tatters paused
and leaned on his stout oak
staff. He had walked many
miles that day. His peasant garb rath-
er enhanced his fine head. His eyes
were blue and clear and farseeing,
the eyes of hunter or a woodsman.
The afternoon glow of the September
sun burned along the dusty white
highway. From where he stood the
road trailed off miles behind and
wound up 500 feet or more above him
to the ancient city of Dreiberg.
Across a lofty jumble of barren rock
and glacial cleft, now purpling and
darkening as the sun mellowed in its
decline, lay the kingdom of Jugend-
heit. By and by his gaze wavered,
and one particular patch in the val
ley, brown from the beating of many
ironshod horses, caught and chained
his interest for a space. 1t was the
military field, and it glittered and scin-
tillated with squadron after squadron
of cavalry.
"The philosophy of war is to pre-
pare for it," mused the old man, with
a jerk of his shoulders France!
So the mutter runs. There is a Ma
poleon in France. but no Bonaparte."
He laughed ironically and cautiously
glanced at his watch, an article which
must have cost him many and many a
potato patch. He stepped forward. He
had followed yonder goose girl ever
since the incline began. Oft the little
wooden shoes had Jagged, but here
they were, still hundred yards or
more ahead of him.
The little goose girl was indeed tired
and the little wooden shoes grew heay-
Ter and heavier, and the little bare feet
ached duly, but her heart was light
and her mind sweet with happiness
Day after day she had tended the
geese in the valley and trudged back
at evening alone, all told matter Of
twelve miles, and now she was bring
ing them into the city to sell in the
market on the morrow. After that
she would have little to do save an
hour or two at night in a tavern called
the Black Eagle, where she waited on
patrons.
Presently there was a clatter of
horses, a jingle Of bit and spur and
saber. Half a dozen mounted officers
trotted past. The peasant on the para
pet instantly recognized one of the
men. He saluted with a humbleness
3 which lacked sincerity. 1t was the
grand duke himself There was Gen
eral DucwitZ, too, and some Of his
staff, and a smooth faced, handsome
young man in civilian riding clothes,
who. though he rode like a cavalry
man, was obviously of foreign birth,
an Englishman or an American.
When the cavalcade reached the
goose girl the peace of the scene van
ished forthwith Confusion took up
the scepter. The silly geese, instead
Of remaining on the left Of the road in
safety, straightway determined that
their haven of refuge was on the op-
posfte side. Gonk, gonk! Quack,
quack! They scrambled, they blum
dered, they flew. Some tried to go
over the horses, some endeayored to
60 under.
The civilian looked casually at the
girl.
by George" he exclaimed in Eng
lish.
"What is it?" asked the duke, gath
ering up the reins.
'gThe girls face. 1t is beautiful"
/. The duke, after a glance, readily
agreed. "You Americans are always
observant"
pretty figure, too," said one of the
aids, colonel. But his eye held none
of the abstract admiration which
characterized the Americans.
The goose girl had seen this look in
other mems eyes. She knew. A faint
color grew under her tan and waned.
The troop proceeded with dust and
small thunder and shortly passed the
city gates 1t traversed the umpy
cobbles of the narrow streets. often
crowding pedestrians. One among
those so inconvenienced was you'll