"They were Cossacks, or whatever you call them. But, pray, why do you
call me 'your highness'?" demanded Beverly. The tall leader swept the
ground with his hat once more.

"All the outside world knows the Princess Yetive--why not the humble
mountain man? You will pardon me, but every man in the hills knows that
you are to pass through on the way from St. Petersburg to Ganlook. We
are not so far from the world, after all, we rough people of the
hills. We know that your highness left St. Petersburg by rail last
Sunday and took to the highway day before yesterday, because the floods
had washed away the bridges north of Axphain. Even the hills have eyes
and ears."

Beverly listened with increasing perplexity. It was true that she had
left St. Petersburg on Sunday; that the unprecedented floods had stopped
all railway traffic in the hills, compelling her to travel for many
miles by stage, and that the whole country was confusing her in some
strange way with the Princess Yetive. The news had evidently sped
through Axphain and the hills with the swiftness of fire. It would be
useless to deny the story; these men would not believe her. In a flash
she decided that it would be best to pose for the time being as the
ruler of Graustark. It remained only for her to impress upon Aunt Fanny
the importance of this resolution.

"What wise old hills they must be," she said, with evasive enthusiasm."
You cannot expect me to admit, however, that I am the princess," she
went on.

"It would not be just to your excellent reputation for tact if you did
so, your highness," calmly spoke the man. "It is quite as easy to say