Long Live the King by Guy Boothby (reading strategies book .TXT) 📕

whispered. Then after a pause he added, "Thank God you are found at last!"

"Hush! hush!" Max replied. "I am no king, only a Pannonian soldier!"

"You are both," gasped the dying man. "They have searched everywhere for you. This must be told."

"No, no!" answered Max. "I can never consent."

But the other was not to be denied. Putting forth all the strength that remained in him, he raised himself and called one of the doctors by name.

The surgeon, who happened to be disengaged at the moment, hastened towards him. Before he could reach him, however, the poor fellow had fallen upon the ground, and was dead. With a cold sweat upon his forehead, such as the fear of battle had never been able to produce, Max staggered to his feet.

"He is dead," said the doctor, after a brief examination. "Poor Fritz! poor Fritz! it will break his mother's heart. Where did this happen, my man?"

"In the village yonder," Max replied. "He was conveying an order to our colonel to retire."

Then with a choking feeling in his throat he made his way, accompanied by Bertram, to the wood.

"That was a very near thing for you," said the latter, as they hurried along. "Oh, why won't you declare yourself and take up the position which is yours by right?"

"Not yet, not yet," said Max, shaking his head. "Fate will decide everything for me in good time. I intend to leave it to her."

Fate very nearly decided it for him on three occasions during the next few hours. Once his helmet was knocked off by a bullet, once he was only saved by the butt of his rifle, which he had lowered to reload, while on the third occasion he was giving water to a wounded man, who had fallen beside him, when a bullet shattered the bottle he held in his hand.

Next morning it was rumoured in the camp that I, Prince Paul, had returned to Pannonia, that the Republic was no more, and that the Ramonyi dynasty had come to its own again. Later in the day the news was officially communicated to the troops, and with his comrades, ragged, tattered, weary, half-starved, and altogether forlorn, Max swore allegiance to himself. A more grotesque situation could scarcely be imagined.

"Prince Paul is declared Regent for his brother," said a grey-haired sergeant, as they ate their frugal supper by the camp fire. "I wonder where the king is?"

I have often conjectured what he would have said had he known that the missing man was at that moment seated beside him.

Strange though it may seem, from the very moment of the return of our family to Pannonia, a change took place in the war. Success after success crowned our efforts, in consequence of which our troops took heart, until, at last, instead of carrying on the strife in our own country, on the twenty-second day of October we, for the first time, crossed the borders, driving the enemy before us. Little by little, but with a sureness and steadiness there could be no mistaking or denying, Groplau was working out the plan he had long since formed in his mind. With what sort of good fortune it was attended all those who have followed the history of the war will be familiar. They will recall how fifty thousand troops, by culpable negligence on the part of the enemy's leaders, were divided into two portions and were prevented from uniting again; how the Count von Leckstein, by a swift flank movement, cut off their retreat, thus compelling them to take refuge in the city of Zaarfburg. No success could have been more complete, no movement more thoroughly prepared, or more admirably carried out. Contesting every inch of the way, fighting with the fury that was the outcome of despair, for they must have known that they were lost, hemmed in on every side, they at length entered the gates of the same city as that into which Rudolf the Brave had once brought a victorious army and more than two thousand prisoners. Still working with the same mathematical precision, Groplau's army took up its position on the plain that surrounded it, and there and then the siege commenced. Winter came and found the garrison still holding out. It was, however, as impossible for them to escape as it was for us to get in. Their vigilance was only equalled by our own. In other parts of the country the war was proceeding with varying success; here, however, save for the continual artillery duel, there was little or no fighting. The suspense, to say nothing of the inactivity, was wearying in the extreme, until, at last, every one felt convinced that something must be done to relieve it.

"It seems strange," said Bertram to Max one day, as they stood watching the picturesque old city across the river, "that it should be so difficult to get inside those walls. Surely there must be some way of managing it?"

"That's just what I've been thinking lately," answered Max. "I should very much like to make the attempt. It would be an adventure after my own heart."

"If you are willing to try," returned the other, "I would go into it with you. What a grand thing it would be!"

"If only we could open the gates to admit our troops!" said Max. "It seems impossible at first glance, but we might do our best. Even if we did not succeed it would not very much matter. I've a good mind to ask permission to make the attempt."

That evening he announced that he had been fortunate enough to obtain his commanding officer's consent to investigate the walls and river bank with a view to entering the city.

"You can never succeed," said that gruff and grim old officer when he had heard everything, "and your life will in all probability pay the forfeit. But you have earned the right to make the attempt, my lad, and if you are willing to be such a fool as to run the risk, Heaven forbid that I should attempt to prevent you. Try your luck, and let me know, if you are not killed, how you succeed."

Permission having been thus grudgingly obtained, Max and Bertram repaired to their quarters to work out their plans and to make the preparations for the adventures of the evening. Undeterred by any thought of the risk they would run, they worked away as happily as schoolboys. A little before midnight they left the camp and made their way cautiously across the open country toward the somewhat sluggish river that made the circuit of the city walls. Fortunately for them the night was dark, and a thick drizzle was falling, blotting out the landscape effectually, and making it extremely difficult to see more than a few yards ahead. Though they knew that for this reason the guards would in all probability be more on the alert than usual, they had the consolation of knowing that the chances were that, hidden by the mist, their presence would be less likely to be discovered than on other occasions. For some time past a certain portion of the wall had exercised a great fascination for Max. The particular section in question was not a great distance removed from the main gate, and, for more reasons than one, it seemed to him that if an attack was to be made at all this was the place at which it should be attempted. It was towards this point, accordingly, that they directed their steps, proceeding with the greatest caution, until at length they reached the river's bank.

"It strikes me we're likely to have a cold swim," Max whispered to his companion, as he looked across the water. "Keep as close to me as you can, and, above all, make no noise. If you do they'll fire upon us that instant."

A few moments later they were in the water, striking out for the opposite bank. As Max had predicted, the water was bitterly cold; fortunately, however, they were both strong swimmers, and the distance was not sufficiently great to subject them to any great amount of risk so far as cramp was concerned.

As they got a footing on the opposite bank, above them towered the city wall, rising to a height of scarcely less than forty feet. At its foot, and directly in front of them, was a strip of sloping bank some six or eight feet in width. Taking care to make no noise, even though it would be scarcely likely to be heard had they done so, they climbed up, and then carefully walked along this narrow platform, pausing now and again to carefully examine the wall and to make a note of the facilities it presented for effecting the purpose they had in view. Much to their disappointment, however, no fitting place presented itself. It is true that with the assistance of a ladder it might have been possible to scale the wall, but the strip of bank before referred to was so short and narrow, and the height of the wall itself was so great, that the number of ladders which could have been set upon it would have been quite inadequate to carry the force of men necessary to ensure the success of such a gigantic undertaking.

"And yet it is the only place," said Max, in a disappointed whisper, "in the whole circuit of the walls where it would be safe to try. Let me get fifty men over at this point and I guarantee to seize the main gate and to have the troops in the city before anyone could tell what had happened. As it is, there is nothing for it but for us to return and to test some other place another night."

Seeing that it was no use their remaining, and remembering that every moment they delayed added to their danger, they determined to set off. As noiselessly as otters, therefore, they slipped into the water and re-crossed the river. Immediately on their return to camp, Max reported himself to his commanding officer and informed him of the ill-success which had followed their enterprise.

"As I expected," he answered, when they had unfolded to him the various details of the attempt.

"However, it's a good thing you got back safely and without arousing their suspicions. Do I understand you to say that you desire to try your luck again?"

"Again and again until we succeed," Max replied. "There must be some way of getting in, if it can only be found. I mean to find it."

The colonel looked curiously at the man before him. He noticed that he did not speak like a common soldier, and he wondered what his history could be. He asked one or two further questions, and then bade him return to his quarters, giving them permission to make the attempt again, if they were still crack-brained enough to desire to do so.

The next night proved too fine for the attempt, but on the night following, having made a careful inspection of the neighbourhood during the day, and finding that it was sufficiently dark for them to cross the river, they set off. This time, however, they met with no better success than before, and returned from their expedition disappointed, but by no means disheartened.

"No," said Max to Bertram, when they discussed the matter in solemn conclave afterwards, "there can be no sort of doubt about one thing, and that is the fact that the place we first tried near the main gates is the point, and the only one that is likely to