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MacGrath, Harold, 1871-1932

"The Puppet Crown"


"I wish no favors," said the Englishman, thanklessly.
The trooper shrugged, and caught up Maurice's bridle.
At length the troop arrived at the frontier. There was no sign
of life at the barrack. They passed unchallenged.
"What!" exclaimed Maurice, "do they sleep here at night, then? A
fine frontier barrack." He had lived in hopes of more
disturbance and a possible chance for liberty.
"They will wake up to-day," answered the Colonel; "that is, if
the wine we gave them was not too strong. Poor devils; they must
be good and cold by this time, since we have their clothes. What
do you think of a king whose soldiers drink with any strangers
who chance along?"
Maurice became resigned. To him the present dynasty was as
fragile as glass, and it needed but one strong blow to shatter
it into atoms. And the one hope rode at his side, sullen and
wrathful, but impotent; the one hope the king had to save his
throne. He had come to Bleiberg in search of excitement, but
this was altogether more than he had bargained for.
The horses began to lift and were soon winding in and out of the
narrow mountain pass.


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