There was a soft, warm, yellow glow to the world when Beverly Calhoun
next looked upon it. The sun from his throne in the mountain tops was
smiling down upon the valley the night had ravaged while he was on the
other side of the earth. The leaves of the trees were a softer green,
the white of the rocks and the yellow of the road were of a gentler
tint; the brown and green reeds were proudly erect once more.
The stirring of the mountain men had awakened Aunt Fanny, and she in
turn called her mistress from the surprisingly peaceful slumber into
which perfect health had sent her not so many hours before. At the
entrance to the improvised bedchamber stood buckets of water from the
spring.
"We have very thoughtful chambermaids," remarked Beverly while Aunt
Fanny was putting her hair into presentable shape. "And an energetic
cook," she added as the odor of broiled meat came to her nostrils.
"Ah cain' see nothin' o' dat beastes, Miss Beverly--an'--Ah--Ah got mah
suspicions," said Aunt Fanny, with sepulchral despair in her voice.
"They've thrown the awful thing into the river," concluded Beverly.
"Dey's cookin' hit!" said Aunt Fanny solemnly.
"Good heaven, no!" cried Beverly. "Go and see, this minute. I wouldn't
eat that catlike thing for the whole world." Aunt Fanny came back a few
minutes later with the assurance that they were roasting goat meat. The
skin of the midnight visitor was stretched upon the ground not far away.
"And how is he?" asked Beverly, jamming a hat pin through a helpless
bunch of violets.
"He's ve'y 'spectably skun, yo' highness."
"I don't mean the animal, stupid."
"Yo' mean 'at Misteh Goat man? He's settin' up an' chattin' as if
nothin' happened. He says to me 'at we staht on ouah way jes' as soon as
yo' all eats yo' b'eakfus'. De bosses is hitched up an'--"
"Has everybody else eaten? Am I the only one that hasn't? "cried
Beverly.
"'Ceptin' me, yo' highness. Ah'm as hungry as a poah man's dawg, an'--"
"And he is being kept from the hospital because I am a lazy,
good-for-nothing little--Come on, Aunt Fanny; we haven't a minute to
spare. If he looks very ill, we do without breakfast."
But Baldos was the most cheerful man in the party. He was sitting with
his back against a tree, his right arm in a sling of woven reeds, his
black patch set upon the proper eye.
"You will pardon me for not rising," he said cheerily, "but, your
highness, I am much too awkward this morning to act as befitting a
courtier in the presence of his sovereign. You have slept well?"
"Too well, I fear. So well, in fact, that you have suffered for
it. Can't we start at once?" She was debating within herself whether it
would be quite good form to shake hands with the reclining hero. In the
glare of the broad daylight he and his followers looked more ragged and
famished than before, but they also appeared more picturesquely
romantic.