"But
leave HIM to me. 'Tis the King we must protect and succor! As for
that Scotch springald, before midnight I shall have him kidnaped,
brought back to his master in a close carriage, and you--YOU shall
take his place at Kohlslau."
"I will," I said enthusiastically, drawing my sword; "but I have
done nothing yet. Please let me kill something!"
"Aye, lad!" said Spitz, with a grim smile at my enthusiasm.
"There's a sheep in your path. Go out and cleave it to the saddle.
And bring the saddle home!"
My sister-in-law might have thought me cruel--but I did it.
CHAP XXIII AND SOME OTHER CHAPS
I know not how it was compassed, but that night Rupert of Glasgow
was left bound and gagged against the door of the castle, and the
night-bell pulled. And that night I was seated on the throne of
the S'helpburgs. As I gazed at the Princess Flirtia, glowing in
the characteristic beauty of the S'helpburgs, and admired her
striking profile, I murmured softly and half audibly: "Her nose is
as a tower that looketh toward Damascus."
She looked puzzled, and knitted her pretty brows. "Is that
poetry?" she asked.
"No" I said promptly. "It's only part of a song of our great
Ancestor." As she blushed slightly, I playfully flung around her
fair neck the jeweled collar of the Order of the S'helpburgs--three
golden spheres pendant, quartered from the arms of Lombardy---with
the ancient Syric motto, El Ess Dee.
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