"Then the lad and myself would be the first to follow him," interrupted
the beggar, "and all the multitude would come after, from the babe on the
mat to the old man by the Palace gates. But if the sick man lives--"

The Governor looked at his son partly in admiration, partly in pain, and
maybe a little of anger.

"Is there no one else? I tell you I--"

"There is no one else; the lad or death for the city! I can believe the
young; the old have deceived me," interposed the beggar again.

"Time passes," said Cumner's Son anxiously. "The man may die. You say
yes to my going, sir?" he asked his father.

The Governor frowned, and the skin of his cheeks tightened.

"Go-go, and good luck to you, boy." He made as if to ride on, but
stopped short, flung out his hand, and grasped the hand of his son.
"God be with you, lad," said he; then his jaws closed tightly, and
he rode on. It was easier for the lad than for him.

When he told the story to Pango Dooni the chief was silent for a moment;
then he said:

"Until we know whether it be death or life, whether Cumner's Son save the
city or lose his life for its sake, we will not call the people together
in the Hall of the Heavenly Hours. I will send the heralds abroad, if it
be thy pleasure, Cumner."