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If God lets me choose the crown I would serve, I shall enlist for life. The crown I would serve is wrought of love, the throne I would kneel before is a heart, the sceptre I would follow is in the slender hand of a woman. I could live and die in the service of my own choosing. But I am only the humble goat-hunter whose hopes are phantoms, whose ideals are conceived in impotence."
"I don't believe that you are a goat-hunter at all." "If I were not a goat-hunter I should have starved long ago," he said. "Why do you doubt me?" "Simply because you treat me one moment as if I were a princess, and the next as if I were a child. Humble goat-hunters do not forget their station in life." "I have much to learn of the deference due to queens," he said.
We are yours to command." "I am very grateful to find that you are not brigands, believe me," said Beverly. "Pray tell me who you are, then, and you shall be sufficiently rewarded for your good intentions." "I? Oh, your highness, I am Baldos, the goat-hunter, a poor subject for reward at your hands. I may as well admit that I am a poacher, and have no legal right to the prosperity of your hills.
G. being thus left to himself, after a great deal of trouble, has engaged as guide an active young goat-hunter, who, though he has never been to the top of the mountain, knows other parts of it so well that he is sure he can take us up. Mr.
The guide is a goat-hunter, and the chase is very curiously pursued. The hunter catches sight of a flock of goats, and hunts them up the mountain, till, agile and fleet of foot as they are, he actually tires them out, and gets close enough to them to cut their throats for the sake of their skins. If I understand rightly, this young man has captured as many as seventy in a day.
His eyes went hungrily to Beverly's averted face, and then assumed a careless gleam which indicated that he had resigned himself to the inevitable. "I am constrained to ask you one question, sir," went on the princess. "You are not the common goat-hunter you assume. Will you tell me in confidence who you really are?" The others held their breath. He hesitated for a moment.
Many times during her eager conversation with Baldos she had almost betrayed the fact that she was not the princess. Some of her expressions were distinctly unregal and some of her slips were hopeless, as she viewed them in retrospect. "What am I? Only the humble goat-hunter, hunted to death and eager for a short respite. Do with me as you like, your highness.
He made a few desperate attempts to ward off his inevitable fate, calling loudly for his comrade to aid him. The latter was eager enough, but Baldos's strategic roll of the cask effectively prevented him from taking a hand. With a vicious thrust, the blade of the goat-hunter tore clean through the man's chest and touched the wall behind.
When the clumsy vehicle was again in the highway and bumping over the ridges of flint, the goat-hunter was beside his princess on the rear seat, his feet upon the opposite cushions near Aunt Fanny, a well-arranged bridge of boxes and bags providing support for his long legs.
To me!" he cried hoarsely, and sprang before her shouting loudly to the sleepers. A score of men, half awake, grasped their weapons and struggled to their feet in answer to his call. The lion's gaunt body shot through the air. In two bounds, he was upon the goat-hunter. Baldos stood squarely and firmly to meet the rush of the maddened beast, his long dagger poised for the death-dealing blow.
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