king," replied the traveler. "Worse still, it gives such an account
of the maniacal ferocity of the fugitive as to warrant anyone in
shooting him on sight."

As the young man spoke the storekeeper had examined his face closely
for the first time. A shrewd look came into the man's ordinarily
stolid countenance. He leaned forward quite close to the other's
ear.

"We of Lutha," he whispered, "love our 'mad king'--no reward could
be offered that would tempt us to betray him. Even in
self-protection we would not kill him, we of the mountains who
remember him as a boy and loved his father and his grandfather,
before him.

"But there are the scum of the low country in the army these days,
who would do anything for money, and it is these that the king must
guard against. I could not help but note that mein Herr spoke too
perfect German for a foreigner. Were I in mein Herr's place, I
should speak mostly the English, and, too, I should shave off the
'full, reddish-brown beard.'"

Whereupon the storekeeper turned hastily back into his shop, leaving
Barney Custer of Beatrice, Nebraska, U.S.A., to wonder if all the
inhabitants of Lutha were afflicted with a mental disorder similar
to that of the unfortunate ruler.

"I don't wonder," soliloquized the young man, "that he advised me to
shave off this ridiculous crop of alfalfa. Hang election bets,
anyway; if things had gone half right I shouldn't have had to wear