Five Mile Beach weekly journal., 1918-06-14

M~WM/MWZL
1t Rang Out, Slow, ominous, Terrible.
yield, he drove the iron point of his
wooden leg into yielding flesh, and SO
made his way. Some one raised a cry
and others took it up.
"The king!" they cried. "Show us
the little king"
But the balcony outside the dead
kings apartments remained empty.
drawn, save at one, opened for air.
The breeze shook its curtains to and
fro, but no small, childish figure
emerged. The cries kept up, but there
was a snarl in the note now.
"The king! Long live the king!
Where is he?"
A man in a red costume, near old
Adelbert, leaped on a box and lighted
a flaming torch. "Ayel" he yelled,
'call for the little king. Where is he?
What have they done with himT"
Old Adelbert pushed on. The voice
of the revolutionist died behind him,
In a chorus of fury. From nowhere,
apparently, anne lighted box banners
proclaiming the chancellor's treason,
and demanding a republic. Some of
them instructed the people to gather
around the parliament where, it was
stated, leading citizens were already
forming a republic. Some, more vio-
Ion% S1TnnoCfod on oduon0o an thn NIL
ace.
The crowd at first ignored them, but
as time went on, it grew ugly. By all
precedent, the new king should be now
before them. What, then, If this rumor
was 49, heEe was the little king?
Revolution, now, in the making. A
flame ready to blaze. Hastily, on the
outskirts of the throng, a delegation
formed to visit the palace, and learn
the truth.
Drums were now beating steadily,
filling the air with their t~hrobbing, al
most drowning out the solemn tolling
of the bell. Around them were rally
ing angry groups. AS the groups grew
large, each drum led its followers
toward the government house, where,
on the steps, the revolutionary party
harangued the crowd. Bonfires sprang
up, built of no one knew what, in the
public squares. Red fire burned. The
drums throbbed.
The city had not yet risen. 1t was
large and slow to move. Slow, too, to
ho1faun in frooCon orr fhof ~ hod No
king. But it was a matter of mo-
ments now, not of hours.
The noise penetrated into the very
wards of the hospital. Red fires bathed
pale faces on their pillows in a fever
ish glow. Nurses gathered at the win
scarlet in the glare, and whispered to-
gether.
One such group gathered near the
bedside of the student Haeckel, still
in his lethargy. His body had gained
strength, so that he was clothed at
times, to wander aimlessly about the
ward. But he had remained daZed.
Now and then the curtain of the past
lifted, but for a moment only. He had
forgotten his name. He spent long
hours struggling to pierce the mist.
But mostly he lay, or sat, as now,
beside his bed, a bandage still on his
head, clad In shirt and trousers. bare
feet thrust into worn hospital slippers.
The red glare had not reused him, nor
yet the beat Of the drums. But a word
or two that n of the nurses spoke
caught his ear and held him. He
looked up, and slowly rose to his feet.
Unsteadily he made his way to a win
dow, holding to the sill to steady him
self.
Old Adelbert had been working his
way impatiently. The temper of the
mob was growing ugly. 1t was
suspicious, frightened, potentially dan
gerous. The cry of "To the palaceP !"
greeted his ears as he finally emerged
GREATNESS from the throng.
He stepped boldly to the old stone
archway, and faced a line of soldiers
there. 81 would see the chancellor"
he gasped, and saluted.
The captain of the guard stepped
out. "What is it you want?" he de-
manded.
"The chancellor" he lowered his
voice. 81 have news Of the ROY
prince"
Magic words, indeed. Doors opened
swiftly before them. But time was
flying, too. In his confusion the old
man had only one thought, to reach
the chancellor. 1t would have been