"Ay," said the Hermit, shaking his head sadly, "you hate them all! But I love them all. And here they come to me. 'The sparrow hath found a house and the swallow a nest where she may lay her young.' I will protect them with my life. You dare not kill me, O King! Godless though you are, once you were a Christian, and you know the meaning of the words I spoke when I said that this was holy ground."

He drew from his bosom the iron Cross which he wore, and held it up before the King.

The monarch shrank back and seemed to hesitate. Suddenly he wheeled his horse and blew a blast upon his bugle. "Back!" he cried somewhat bitterly. "We will not linger here for a paltry doe. Let us leave this cursed wood and this crusty hermit. Back to our own demesne, where we shall find sport enough, I dare say."

Once more he blew his horn and bounded forward out of the clearing; the nobles after him, and the cowed, disappointed dogs trailing at the rear with tails between their legs. John could not help feeling sorry for them. Poor things! They at least knew no better.

John was just stooping to pet the frightened deer, when an arrow whizzed over his shoulder and struck the creature in the haunch. The poor animal gave a cry of pain, and blood dyed the gray mantle of the Hermit, the first blood shed in that place of peace.

With a shout of anger John leaped up and looked over his shoulder. A familiar wicked face grinned back at him, as a horse and rider galloped into the forest. The King's son had skulked behind to shoot that shaft.

"My son!" cried the Hermit, laying trembling hands on John's shoulder. "It was meant for you. You would have died had you not stooped at that moment to caress the doe."

"Poor doe!" said John, kneeling beside her and busying himself with the arrow. "You have saved my life. Now we must save yours. My father, I think she is not badly hurt."

And he began to stanch the blood and bind up the wound with the skill which the Hermit had taught him.

But the old man stood for a long time gazing into the forest after the party of huntsmen. "A murderer and a coward," he said. "In sanctuary he has shed innocent blood. For many evil deeds the price will surely be paid. And the price is heavy."



XVII

THE MESSENGER

The little deer was not greatly hurt by the cowardly hunter. John and the Hermit nursed her tenderly, and so great was their knowledge of healing balms that she was soon nibbling the grass about their dooryard, as sprightly as ever, save for a slight lameness in one leg.

Bruin was with them once more, a constant guest in the little circle. The fright of that day when the hunters came to the forest had affected all the animals, who clung closely to their two human friends, and did not venture far from the hut.

Although John and the Hermit had never spoken together of the King since that terrible day, the boy thought often about him, and about the young Prince with whom he had wrestled for the life of the bear. And John was troubled by many things. He thought how great must be the suffering among the helpless animals when men so cruel were in power. If animals were treated so, how must the poor and lowly people fare at the hands of their lords and masters? Were the mighty so cruel to one another,—to children and women and aged people? All these were weak and helpless, too. John remembered the Hermit's tales of war and the wickedness of cities, and his heart grew sick. What a terrible world this was to live in, if the great and powerful were so bad!

But when John was most unhappy, longing to change it all, he would look around the little hut where, surrounded by his animal friends, the dear old Hermit sat under the wooden Cross, reading out of the great book. Then John grew happy once more. For the Hermit had taught him well from that holy volume.

"It will all come right some time," he said to himself. "Some day the Lord will teach men better, and all will be peace and love as it is here. But oh! If only I were big and strong and powerful, so that I could help to hasten that happy day!"

One evening, several weeks later, they sat as usual in the midst of their circle of pets. The Hermit, with the raven on his shoulder and the cat on his knee, was reading from the book. John, on a bench by the window, was using the last light of an autumn day to make a basket for gathering herbs. The gaunt wolf lay at his feet. Beside him rested the bear, snuffling in his sleep; and stretched out between him and the Hermit, Brutus snored peacefully. On John's shoulders roosted their carrier pigeon, and several kittens played about his legs. The deer lay on a pallet in the corner. It was a very peaceful scene, and every one seemed to have forgotten the fright of a month before.

Suddenly John said: "Father, tell me about the King."

The old man started, and placing a finger in the book to mark the place, looked at John with surprise. "Why should we speak of him?" he asked uneasily. "This is the hour of peace and meditation on pleasant things."

"I have thought about him so much," said John. "I cannot tell why, but I am unable to forget him. I want to know more of him and of his son."

The old man shook his head. "I am sorry," he said. "Did you care so much for his gorgeous clothes and jewels, his horse and band of followers? Have they turned your head, foolish boy? Did you find anything to admire in their talk and manner and looks? I am disappointed, John!"

"Nay, I did not admire anything about them," John hastened to say. "I saw that the King was cruel. I believe well that he was also wicked. But he seemed to have friends. How can a bad man have friends? And why do the people allow him to be their king?"

"Ah, John!" cried the Hermit, "it is not so easy to find a good king! Perhaps his people do not care; perhaps they know no better. Perhaps he is so powerful that they have no choice but to obey him."

"Is the King so wicked?" asked John, wondering how the Hermit knew so much. "What has he done that is bad?"

The old man hesitated; then he turned to John with a gesture that the boy did not understand.

"Listen, John," he said. "I will tell you some things that this King has done. It is well that you should know. Years ago, before you were born, he was not the lawful king in this Country. The true king was his brother Cyril, who was good and kind, ruling wisely and well. But suddenly he died. Those in his service guessed that his brother Robert, this present King, had caused his death by poison. So Robert became king. A stormy time he had of it, at first; for the whole land loved King Cyril. Many accused Robert, and refused to do him honor,—especially one holy man, John, King Cyril's friend and physician. Yes, my son, he bore the same blessed name as yourself. This man the people loved dearly, for he was wise and generous with his wisdom. He healed them freely of their hurts. He went about the country doing good, bringing love and good cheer wherever he went. He was honored almost as a saint. But because he dared lift his voice against the King—he died. No one knew how it happened. At the same time his little son disappeared; men believed that he also was slain by the cruel King. The people were furious; they stormed and threatened. But alas! gradually the voices of their leaders were silenced. Some died suddenly, as John had done. Some disappeared. Some were banished from the kingdom. Some went away, broken-hearted; who knows where they may be now?"

"Oh, how could the people forget their King and the holy man who had been good to them?" cried John. "How could they allow that bad man to be their king?"

"The people?" said the Hermit sadly. "The people so soon forget! Do you not recall how, ages ago, the people treated the best Man who ever lived? These folk dared not seem to remember. They were selfish and lazy. The new King was rich and powerful. They found it easier to grumble and do nothing else. And when the King said, 'Hunt!' they hunted. When he commanded, 'Hate all animals; have no pets!' they obeyed him. But it is a gloomy land, a sad land, of which Robert is king!"

"Oh!" said John, "how do you know so much, my father?"

"Do not ask," said the Hermit. "One day I will tell you, but not now."

"Oh, he is a wicked King, who ought to die!" burst out John, throwing up his arm angrily. "Would I were a man, and I would go kill him. But I will do it when I am grown!"

At his rough tones and gestures the birds fluttered away, frightened, and the animals slunk into the corners, trembling. The peace of the little hut was rudely disturbed.

"Nay, my son, nay!" cried the old man in horror. "Say not such wicked words! See how you frighten our peaceful friends. What have I tried to teach you? It is not yours to avenge. The Lord himself will punish as he sees best. Perhaps even now he chastens that wicked heart. Already the King has lost his dearest, oldest son. He was killed five years ago while hunting a wild boar in the forest. But now—"

At this moment there was a loud knock on the door of the hut. The Hermit and John started and looked at each other in wonder. When had such a thing happened before! Brutus and the wolf arose, bristling. The bear growled savagely. The raven gave a screech of fear and burrowed under John's cot. There was a moment's pause. Then the Hermit, crossing himself, called loudly,—

"Enter, if your errand be peace. Enter, in the name of the Lord."

Quickly the latch clicked and the door flew open. Into the midst of the startled group stumbled a man, breathless and covered with dust from head to foot. His hat was gone. His hair was disheveled, and his eyes bloodshot.

"Hasten!" he cried, turning to the Hermit. "You are the man I seek,—you, skilled in herbs and healing. The King sends for you."



"The King!" The Hermit and John spoke the word together, staring wildly.

"Yes, the King," repeated the man. "I have killed my horse to get here. He fell in the forest yonder, even as I spied the light from your window. There is no time to be lost. We must go on foot to the nearest town, where horses may be had. Hasten, old man, and bring your herbs and balsams."

"But whither? And for what purpose?" asked the Hermit, still standing with one trembling hand on the holy book.

"The King's son is wounded," cried the messenger. "Five days ago he was hunting the deer, and an arrow, glancing falsely, pierced his breast. He was grievously hurt. Even now he may be dying. Why do we waste words? The physicians have done their best, but they have given him up at last. The King raved; he was beyond reason. Suddenly, in his madness he spoke of you, the wizard of this forest. He recalled that day when you cursed him for the sake of your brute creatures. He vowed it was all enchantment. 'Send for the wizard!' he cried. 'Let him cure my son. He dare not refuse, for he claims to be a servant of God.'"

The Hermit was trembling now with emotion. "It is the Lord's will!" he said. "He was wounded while hunting an innocent beast. On the strength and speed of another beast hung his chance for life. And now, only with the aid of another can we reach him in time.—Nay, upon a fourth we must rely to find our way out of the forest. Brutus only can help us. But let us hasten. Come, my friend! Back to the city once more." Calling to the dog, he began to make hurried preparations for departure.

John ran to him. "Do not go to the wicked man!" he whispered. "They may kill you. Oh, what should I do then?"

The Hermit shook his head. "I must go," he said. "It is written, 'Do good to them that hate you.' There is no question of my duty."

"Oh, let me then go with you, father," pleaded John.

The Hermit laid his hand on the boy's head, and looked at him tenderly. "The time is not yet ripe, my son," he said. "Who knows what all this may mean? Wait a little longer. Stay and care for our little friends. From the nearest village I will send Brutus back to you. You will not be lonely, with your work and play as usual. Do not neglect either. Adieu, my dear son!" And he blessed John.

Embracing the boy and bidding farewell to the other friends, the Hermit took his staff and bag of simples, and wrapped his cloak about him. "I trust you, John," he said at the door. "Be patient, obedient, and wise." Then in the folds of his cloak he took the carrier pigeon. "I will send you word by our friend, if need be," he said, as he went out into the darkness.

Brutus and the messenger followed him closely. The door banged behind them, and John was alone with the circle of frightened, cowering creatures. He threw himself on his knees before the Hermit's table, and laying his head on the book, began to weep, he scarcely knew why.



XVIII

THE CARRIER PIGEON

A evening of the next day, just as John had finished his simple supper, he heard a scratching at the door. It was Brutus, returning footsore and weary. Tied to his collar John found a message from the Hermit.

"Be of good cheer," it read. "We mount excellent steeds to ride to the King. If by God's help I may save the young man's life, I will return to you speedily thereafter. If it be the Lord's will that other things befall, I will send the carrier pigeon with news. Bear a good heart, my son. Keep to your studies, your exercise, and your devotions as if I were with you. So when I return I shall find you a little stronger, wiser, a better champion of the good. Farewell!"

John read this letter eagerly, and set himself to obey the master's wishes. But now the days seemed long indeed. In spite of the many friends who shared the hut with him, John felt very lonely, and longed for the dear old man's return. But now he had something more to think of: the good King Cyril and the holy man, his friend, who had borne the name of John. And he longed to be some day a man like that.

The Hermit had been gone for nearly a week. One day John was sitting by the door of the hut, busy with his studies, when he heard a whir in the air overhead. Glancing up, he saw the flash of snowy wings, and presently the carrier pigeon came fluttering down to his shoulder.

"Ah, my dear bird!" cried John, tenderly taking the creature in his hands and lifting it to peck at his lips as it always loved to do. "You have come to me safely from far away. You have come from the place where my dear father is. Have you brought me word from him?"

With a soft coo the pigeon nestled closer in John's arms. Reaching under its wing, he found a scroll of writing tied there securely with a silken cord.

"A letter from my father!" he cried, untying it eagerly.

It was indeed a long letter in the good man's clear script. It told of their safe arrival, after a hard journey through the night; of their reception by the King. They had come almost too late. But when they arrived the Prince was still breathing. They were ushered into his chamber, where he lay white and still. No one could rouse him to life or consciousness. By his bedside sat the King, his face like a mountain-top wrapped in clouds.

"Save my son!" he had cried when he saw the Hermit. "Save my son, sorcerer, and I will give you whatever your heart craves."

"I am no sorcerer," the Hermit had answered. "I am God's servant, with some skill in healing, because I have studied the work of His hands and the uses of His gifts. If it be His will, I may save the young man. If otherwise, we may not hope to prevail."

"Oh, he must not die!" cried the King. "You foretold it, I remember, in the forest. But think—he is my only son. He must be king after me. He must live!"

"Other sons have died," said the Hermit solemnly. "Other princes have not lived to reign. And what of them?"

The King shuddered. "Save my son!" he repeated. "Only save this boy, and I will do whatever you ask."

"Then" (said the Hermit's letter) "I did my best. I bathed the youth's wound with my healing balsam. I gave him soothing draughts to drink. I sat by his bedside and prayed that the Lord's will might be done through me. And then came a change. A faint color blossomed in his cheeks. His lips trembled; his eyes opened and he looked at me. Then he sighed and closed his eyes. What he thought I know not. But he had paused in his march towards death. From that day he mended. The Prince's wound is now healed. The King's gratitude knew no bounds. He promised me rewards beyond belief,—which, as you know, mean naught to me.

"But, John, a strange thing has befallen. The Prince should now be well upon the road to health. He should be gaining strength every day. There seems no reason otherwise. But such happens not. He lies passive and dazed. He seems not to care whether he lives or dies. He never speaks nor smiles, only looks sometimes at me as if he wanted to ask me something. The doctors say that he is slowly dying.

"And now, John," concluded the Hermit's letter, "now comes the reason for these long, tedious words to you. I have done my utmost, but I am powerless. Will you come? Will you try what your own skill and youth may do? It may be your mission in life to save this lad who tried to kill you. I know that if he could but once smile, he would get well. Therein lies your power. Come, as quickly as you may. Bring with you our animal friends who cannot be left behind. Brutus will lead you to the village, and thence you must find your way to the Capital. And one word more: if you find yourself in trouble or need, show the silver talisman which you wear about your neck, and I think all will be well. Remember my teachings, John, and come as soon as may be."

When John had finished the letter, he stood for a moment quite dazed. He was to leave this place where all was peace and happiness, and go back among men whom he feared! He was to go to the very King whose name he shuddered to remember,—the King who had killed his brother and that holy man John with his little son! He was to do all this for the sake of the enemy who had hunted the bear, who had injured the gentle deer, who had aimed to take John's own life! He grew sick at the thought. Yet,—it was the Hermit himself who summoned him. And he remembered the good man's teachings.

"How I can help I know not," sighed John, "but I must go!" He laid his head upon the feathers of the carrier pigeon and shed some bitter tears. Then, placing the bird gently on the tree beside him, he straightened himself bravely. "I will go!" he said. "I will go joyfully, as one should who hopes to be worthy to bear the name of John."

Just then Brutus came sauntering from the hut, shaking himself lazily after his nap.

"Ho, Brutus!" called John, snapping his fingers. "Shall we go on a journey together, you and I? Shall we take these little friends on a wonderful pilgrimage? And will you be my guide, as you were once before, good Brutus?"

The dog seemed to understand. He pricked up his ears, and leaped up to John's shoulders with a joyous bark. Then, rushing to the edge of the wood, he looked back, inviting John to follow.

"Oh, let us be off!" he seemed to say. "I have been longing to go to our dear master. Let us hasten, little brother!"

"Not so fast!" said John. "We have first to gather our provisions and make ready our company of pilgrims. I must take all the food I can. For I dare not trust wholly to the silver Cross. What could my father mean by that?"

Still wondering, John set about his preparations. They did not take long. There was neither lock nor bolt on the door of the Hermit's hut, nor aught of value to hide. When John's basket was packed with simple food, and the animals were gathered about him outside in the little clearing, he rolled a stone against the door, and they were ready to go.



XIX

THE JOURNEY

A strange company they were, these citizens of the Animal Kingdom traveling to town! Foremost went Brutus, leading the way and feeling very important with a bundle bound upon his strong back. Gray and gaunt, the wolf trotted along at his side, like another dog. Next came John, with a knapsack on his shoulders, in which three little kittens slumbered beside the provisions for their journey; there were always new kittens in the Animal Kingdom. On his shoulder perched the raven, and by a rope he led the bear, whom he felt safer to have close by his side. Sometimes the bear trotted on all fours. Sometimes he walked upright like a big brown man, towering over John's head. Now before and now behind them went Blanche the cat, pretending as cats do that she was neither following nor leading, but traveling quite independently of them all. Frequently she disappeared into the bushes or up a tree, but soon came scampering past, when she would stop to make a hasty toilet. Overhead fluttered from tree to tree the carrier pigeon and the other birds, who were John's pets and bound to follow wherever he went.

The deer and her fawn went part way with them, and the little rabbits hopped a staccato accompaniment for some time. But John did not urge them to follow. He knew they were better off in the forest, where they could take care of themselves.

All day they fared on the uneven path by which, nose to earth, Brutus led them. And at last, weary and spent, they came to the little village where the Hermit had taken horse for the longer journey.

John paused at the first house in the village and knocked at the gate. A burly fellow came to the door.

"Hello!" he cried. Starting back when he saw the strange group gathered in his dooryard. "What means all this?"



"If you please," said John politely, "we go upon a Journey to the King, and we seek shelter. Will you let us sleep in your stable, friend?"

"Sleep in my stable!" muttered the man, "a beggar with a band of outlaw animals! A wolf and a bear! No, indeed. I have too much respect for the safety of my cattle and for the King's laws."

He was about to shut the door in John's face. But the lad had a sudden thought. He would try at this first place the value of the Hermit's hint.

"Stay," he said, "one moment, friend." Fumbling in his breast, he drew out the silver medal which he wore about his neck. "I was to show this—" he began.

But he saw the man start, and, shading his lantern with his hands, peer more closely at the object. Then he stared at John's face with wonder.

"In God's name!" exclaimed the man, "who are you who travel with this strange company?"

John looked almost as surprised as he. "A poor pilgrim, on the King's errand," he said. "We ask only a corner of your stable with a bed of straw to lie on. Give us shelter, kind friend, and to-morrow speed us on our way."

The man still stared at John as though he saw a fairy. But now he threw the door wide open. "Enter," he said. "I cannot refuse you. Enter my house. You shall have a bed and supper, fair boy; but what of these?" and he turned troubled eyes upon the animals.

"Nay," said John simply, "I ask no better bed than theirs, my fellow pilgrims. Thank you for your hospitality, kind friend. May we all sleep in your stable? My animals are quite safe company. They will hurt nothing that hurts not me."

John smiled then in his happy, trustful way, and the face of the man looking into his brightened as if by reflection. His coarse mouth broadened into a smile.

"They shall sleep soundly in the hay," said he kindly, "though it be against the law. I will risk even the bear and the wolf for the sake of that you wear about your neck. But the stable and the company of beasts are not fit for the like of you. That I know, though you be in rags. Come into the house, young stranger."

"Have you forgotten," said John gently, "how once a stable sheltered the greatest King of all among the humblest beasts? I have often had worse beds than a pile of sweet straw. I shall be happy enough among my friends."

The man hung his head for a moment, then raised it and looked at John strangely.

"I had forgotten," he said. "Who are you? Who are you who talk so wisely, and who wear that silver Cross upon you?"

"I am John, the Hermit's pupil, and I am very tired," was the answer. "May we not rest now? To-morrow perhaps we will show you some pretty tricks to pay for our night's lodging."

"John," mused the man, "that is a good name! I want no pay from any one who bears that name." And still eyeing John strangely, he led the way to the stable door.

He bade them good-night; and thereupon the straw the two-footed and four-footed pilgrims rested peacefully together, nestled in a warm mass of fur and feathers, flaxen hair, and woolen rags.

In the morning the farmer brought them food, and his family came with him to see the strange visitors. For so many animals had never before been seen together in that country. John put Bruin and Brutus through their tricks, and the children clapped their hands joyously at the sight. Then John himself tumbled and danced for them, and they were in an ecstasy.

At the end of the performance they clung about the boy's neck and flung themselves upon the animals, declaring that they must not go away, and begging them to stay forever.

But John shook his head, smiling. "I must be off," he said. "I must do the King's errand."

And so they went upon their way, the children watching them wistfully out of sight. But the farmer went with them some little distance to point out the road; and when he left them he spoke a last word of warning.

"The King has no love of animals," he said. "There are none in all the kingdom save those for use and those he hunts to kill. There are no pets nor playmates for the children; no birds even in his forests. Beware his wrath, my lad, when he has word of your caravan."

"I am going to the King," said John simply. "We go to save the life of his son."

The farmer stared again at John with a strange expression. "You, to save his life!" he muttered. "I cannot understand it all!" And he passed his hand over his forehead.

"I have some skill at healing. Farewell!" cried John gaily. "We shall be safe, I know."

"Ay, with that silver thing on your neck," said the man to himself, shading his eyes to watch them out of sight. "John; the Hermit's pupil; a boy with the knowledge of healing, and a smile,—Saint Francis! What a smile! He is like our holy John come back again as a child. Who can he be?" And he crossed himself devoutly as he went back to his work.

But John and his friends went sturdily upon their way. Up and down hills they traveled; along dusty roads; through lonely stretches of moor and plain. They caused great excitement in the villages through which they passed. It was years since the townsfolk had seen a dancing bear; years even since they had enjoyed the frolics of a cat and kittens. The raven was a source of delight. The birds that followed overhead and came at John's call, perching on his arms and shoulders, filled the children with envy. The wolf looked so fierce that they were afraid of him; but his brother Brutus was petted in a way to spoil any ordinary dog. Yet he kept his temper and his poise, and endured their homage meekly.

Often, in the country through which they passed, John found sick persons to whom he could bring relief, and gladly he used the knowledge which the Hermit had taught him. It seemed that there were few in that land who had the skill of healing, and many of the sick had long suffered for lack of the simple remedies which John had often used for his pets. He saved several lives. Oh! that was joy for John! The people were very grateful, and would have paid him anything he wished. But all he asked was food or shelter for himself and his friends. Then they spoke his name softly and kissed his hands, which made John laugh.

John found it easy enough to earn all the food he needed in the villages. Remembering his mountebank days, he had but to hold a little performance in the public square. Every one would hurry to see Bruin do his tricks and John himself turn somersaults and walk on his hands; after which the bear would dance and pass the hat, into which the pennies rained generously.

But it was harder to find lodgings for the night. Knowing the King's hatred for animals, men feared to shelter this caravan. Only when John would pull from his breast the talisman of silver would they soften and yield to his wishes, wondering and almost worshiping, as the farmer had done on that first day. John himself was the most wondering of them all. For he saw no reason why the silver Cross should have such power. Sometimes he wondered if it was bewitched; but he knew the good Hermit would not have bade him rely on magic. Yet it made him almost afraid, so that he used this power only when he had to for the sake of the weary animals. He himself was welcome everywhere,—perhaps for the sake of his yellow hair and blue eyes, which were a wonder in that country; but more likely for the smiling ways and cheerful speech of him, that made his passing through that gloomy land like the passage of a sunbeam through thick clouds; and blessings followed after him.

And so, after six days of travel, they came at last to the King's city.



XX

THE ARRIVAL

About sundown John with his train came to the gates of the city where the King lived. They were all very hungry, dusty, and tired.

A watchman on the wall, with telescope to his eye, had spied them afar off.

"Hello!" he cried. "What is this coming down the highroad? It seems a small caravan, creeping and writhing like a caterpillar. The head of it seems human. But, by my faith! the rest of it is like nothing I have seen for many years! What ho! Let us be on guard. It may be an enemy of the King."

The warders ran to arms. And so it happened that a crowd of them were gaping at the entrance when John and his companions came up.

The lad was almost exhausted. But when he saw the way barred by a band of frowning armed men, he doffed his cap and smiled his own peculiar smile.

"Good-evening, friends," he said. "We have been long in reaching your city. We are glad to be at the gates at last."

"Who are you?" asked the Captain gruffly, stepping forward and barring the way, while his companions gazed in amazement at the wolf and the bear who were huddled at John's side.

"I come on an errand to the King," said John. "Please guide me to him quickly, for it is an urgent matter."

"To the King!" sneered the Captain; and the warders echoed his laugh. "No one goes to the King in such company as you bring. You must know that. They are outlaws, all,—and you too, I dare say!"

"I know not. But I must see the King, and that quickly," said John. "I come with these friends to heal the King's son, if I can."

"Ha! More sorcery!" interrupted the Captain. "No, you shall not enter here. The King allows no animals in his domain. How you have brought them so far I cannot guess!"

"Well, I bear this," said John, drawing out the silver talisman.

The men bent forward to look at it, then fell back, staring at one another with astonished faces.

"Who is he?" they whispered among themselves. "What shall we do?"

"Let me pass, good friends," begged John, looking up in their faces with his simple smile. "I will promise to do no harm. Among friends my friends are quite harmless. But tell me, I pray you, where I may find the good Hermit who healed the Prince's wound? I come at his bidding."

At these words the guards pulled themselves together and exchanged looks. They began to swagger.

"Ah, is it so?" growled the Captain. "You are a friend of the wizard himself. We must let the King know of this. Yes, you shall enter. Here! Take him captive! Off with him to the prison."

"To prison!" cried John in amazement. "For what ill deed, I pray?"

But already the guards were pressing forward upon him. At the sight of their threatening looks Brutus ran in front of John and began to growl warningly, crouching ready to spring upon the first who should lay hands on the boy. The wolf bristled and showed his fangs. And the bear, rising on his hind legs, growled and blinked his little red eyes so terribly that the men fell back. John was protected by powerful friends. The other animals shrank close to him, and the raven began to scream.



"Have a care!" warned John. "My friends are armed with sharp teeth and claws, and they will not readily let a stranger touch me."

"He is a wizard!" muttered the soldiers; but they shrank back, afraid to touch him.

"Why do you treat me thus?" asked John wistfully.

"Because you say you are a friend to that vile magician of the woods, by whose arts the Prince was wounded, they say, and who yet holds him at death's door." So spoke the Captain of the guards. "The Prince still lives. But when he passes, the King has decreed that the wizard shall die the death. You come in time to share it, if you be his pupil!"

"Oh, hasten, hasten!" cried John, clasping his hands. "Please take me to him! Perhaps I may yet save the good old man. If it is not too late, perhaps I can also save the Prince."

"Ay, we will take you to him fast enough, if you will call off your growling beasts," said the Captain.

"Nay, we must all go together," answered John, who saw how they meant to trap him. "Oh, come, let us be moving, for there is no time to lose!"

Grumbling, but afraid either to delay or to venture near John, the guards formed in a hollow square about him and his pets, and they all began to march in a strange company through the city streets to the palace.

A crowd gathered as they passed. Men, women, and children craned their necks to look at this group of animals, such as had not been seen in the city for years. They gazed, too, at the handsome yellow-haired boy, and whispered among themselves, "Who is he? What has he done?"

John noticed that the faces of the people who gazed at him were set and hard. They seemed sad and hopeless. He pitied them. "It is a kingdom without love," he said to himself.

Yet, as they looked, their faces changed. A new something came into their eyes. A whispering went around among the crowd, increasing to a murmur, like the sound of bees.

They came at last to the palace, where the crowd was forced to pause. But, surrounded by the band of soldiers, John and his party went in and on, led by the Captain himself, at whose word or gesture doors flew open and servants bowed.

Through long, glittering halls, lined with mirrors in which their rags and dust, draggled feathers and matted hair showed pitifully, limped John and his weary friends. Up a grand marble staircase, with wondering footmen lining either side, pattered on muddy feet Brutus and his gray brother, and the bear, clumsily erect at John's side. Behind mewed the tired Blanche, whose kittens John carried in his arms, while the carrier pigeon and the raven perched on his shoulder. But the other birds had remained outside in the trees of the palace garden.



XXI

THE PALACE

At last they came to a great hall, full of people who seemed met for some solemn purpose. At the door stood the Grand Chamberlain in lace and velvet, holding in one hand his staff, and in the other an hourglass at which he was gazing earnestly.

"What is this?" he said sternly, as the Captain approached with his prisoners. "Do you not know that this is a moment of life and death?"

In a few whispered words the Captain explained matters.

The Chamberlain stared sullenly at John. "No more wizardry!" he said at last. "We have had enough of that. The King has just passed judgment on the sorcerer. In five minutes he is to die. The doctors declare this to be the only hope for the Prince's life."

"Oh, let me see him! Let me see my good father!" begged John, clasping his hands piteously. "I may yet save his life, I and these friends."

As he said this, John had a sudden thought. He fumbled in his bosom for the silver Cross, and held it out with trembling hands so that the Chamberlain could see it.

The man started back, turning pale and letting fall his staff of office. "What does this mean?" he cried, "Who is this lad? How came he by this token?"

Once more the Captain whispered to him. The Chamberlain looked wildly at John, then at the hourglass, in which the last grains of sand had sifted down.

"The time has come," he said; "the fatal moment is here! I should give the signal for which the executioners wait. But something holds me back. In Heaven's name, what does it all mean? Is it sorcery or—"

"It is the Lord's will," said John quietly. "Oh, pray, let me see the King."

"I do not understand," muttered the Chamberlain hoarsely. "But, in the name of the talisman which you wear, enter. Go alone. I dare not face the King with his order disobeyed."

A broad aisle was left open down the hall through the ranks of lords and ladies. At the end of it was a tall gilt throne. And on the throne, clad in purple and gold, John saw a figure sitting, pale and terrible. It was the King. John knew his cold, cruel face, although the man had greatly altered in those weeks since the day of hunting in the park. For now the King's hair was snow-white and his body was bent like that of an old man.

John fixed his eyes upon this figure and began to walk forward steadily. Beside him paced Brutus, looking up anxiously into the boy's face. In his right hand John led the bear, walking upright. The wolf slunk behind, with lolling tongue. In his arms John still carried the kittens, and on his shoulder perched the raven, while Blanche trotted behind him.

It was indeed a strange sight. A hush came upon the hall, and every one stared open-mouthed as they passed along. At last the King himself, who was sitting with bent head, noticed the silence and glanced up. John, with his queer group, was now almost at the foot of the throne. The King started up with a cry of rage and surprise. He glared at the lad and at the animals with blazing eyes. "What does this mean?" he shouted.

But at that moment John himself gave a cry. He had seen a figure that he knew, and, forgetting all else, he was hurrying towards it. At one side of the throne stood the Hermit, pale and sad, with his hands tied behind his back and a rope about his neck. He was guarded on each side by a man with a drawn sword.

"My father!" cried John, throwing himself upon the good man's neck before the wondering guards could interfere. At the same time Brutus gave a loud bark of joy and leaped upon his master.

"My dear son!" cried the Hermit, with tears in his eyes. "I thought not to see you again!"

At the sound of his voice the cat gave a loud "Miaou!" and ran to him. The kittens squeaked and tried to climb his gown. The bear growled contentedly and trotted to his side. The wolf leaped to him with fierce pleasure. The raven hopped to his feet with a scream of Joy, and the carrier pigeon, with a soft "Coo!" fluttered to his shoulder. To the watching men and women of that court it seemed a miracle.

For a moment all was silent. Then the King found voice. "What does this mean?" he cried again. "How have this vagrant and his vile beasts found entrance to my palace? It is the hour for execution, not for mummery. Why is not the signal given?"

"O King," said John timidly, "they let me in because I said that I came to cure your son, if may be."

"More sorcery!" howled the King, beside himself with rage. "Take him away! Slay them all,—the old man, the boy, the animals! I have waited too long already. Perhaps even now my son is dead!" He rose, trembling.

But the Hermit's voice rang out now, loud and clear. "O King," he cried, "enough talk of sorcery and magic. This boy has come to help your son, who sought to slay him. He has brought the animals whose lives you covet, to show you how much you may owe to them. Lo, this carrier pigeon bore my message bidding him to come,—not for my sake. For I told him nothing of the danger in which I lay. This noble dog guided him to the village by a path which only he could follow. Now with these other animals he hopes to amuse the Prince and awaken him to life. There is no magic in this; only love, O King—the love which is lacking in your sad and sullen kingdom."

There was a murmur in the crowd, which swayed forward toward John and the Hermit. For some seconds the King stood speechless, staring at the Hermit and the group around him. Then, with a wave of his hand, he bade the guards stand back. He turned to a black-gowned man on his right who had just entered the hall. "Does my son still live?" he asked in a choking voice.

The doctor nodded gravely. "He still lives, Sire. But he is very low. He cannot survive many minutes."

The King paled. "Let us hasten," he said. "It is the last chance. Perhaps the boy has skill." Then, turning to the little group of people from the forest, he beckoned grimly. "Come with me," he said. "Save my son's life, and you save your own. Otherwise I swear that you shall all die the most hideous and painful of deaths."

Descending from the throne with tottering steps, for the King had grown a feeble old man, he led the way from the great hall. Behind him came the doctor and the Hermit. John followed, with the animals in his arms and close about his heels.

So they came to the door of a room in one wing of the palace.



XXII

THE PRINCE'S CHAMBER

At the door the King paused and turned back to the little company which followed him.

"You may enter," he said, "and try your skill on the Prince, who is near to death. If you cure him, I will give you whatsoever reward you may demand. But see that you do not fail!" The King's voice was full of menace. "Enter, in the name of whatever magic you use."

"In the name of love we come," said the Hermit gently; "and in the name of love we shall do our best for your son, O King. Enter softly, John. You must do without me now. Leave our larger, clumsier friends outside with me."

Softly John tiptoed over the sill, carrying the kittens in his arms, with the dove on his shoulder, and the white cat following behind.

In the centre of the room was a couch, hung with a splendid canopy of purple and gold. Beneath a purple coverlet fringed with gold lay the Prince, white as the lace of the pillow on which his black curls rested. His eyes were closed, and he looked still and lifeless. The hand which lay outside on the purple velvet was as white and transparent as the hand of a marble statue.

On one side of his bed sat a doctor in a black velvet gown, and several attendants stood about with long faces and tired eyes. On the other side of the couch a little girl crouched on a low stool. She was a pale, pretty little thing, younger than John, and her dress of brilliant red made her sad, dark eyes look all the more sorrowful as she gazed at John wistfully. It was Clare, the Prince's only sister.

As they entered the room the King made a sign to the doctor, who shook his head sadly. The King crossed to the bed and bent down over his son, touching the cold face. But it did not change. Neither the lips nor eyelids trembled, and John could see no sign of life in that still body. How different, he thought suddenly, from the vigorous figure which had wrestled with him in the forest. How different that face from the one which had looked back at him triumphantly after the arrow had struck the poor deer!

"He does not hear nor see," said the King gloomily. "He scarcely breathes. What will you do?"

John hesitated. He had made no plan; he hardly knew with what hope the Hermit had summoned him and his pets thither. It seemed a hopeless task.

The King frowned at his daughter. "Why is this girl allowed here?" he said gruffly. "Leave the room."

"Oh, Sire," pleaded the little Princess, with tears in her eyes, "please let me stay! When my brother is so ill, surely my place is at his side. I will be quite still, indeed I will. Only do not send me away!"

John looked at her and thought how like a gentle little animal she was, so timid, and with such large, beseeching eyes. John had never known any little girls. Now he thought they would be very pleasant things to have in an animal kingdom.

"Please let her stay, King," he said gently. "She can do no harm."

"Very well. Let her stay," said the King impatiently. "But what will you do? What magic have you, boy?"

Suddenly John had an impulse. He stepped forward with the squirming kittens and laid them on the velvet coverlet close by the Prince's marble hand. The doctor arose with a cry of horror; the attendants rushed forward. The little Princess drew a long breath. But the King raised his hand.

"Let the boy alone," he commanded. "Even this madness shall be humored. There is no hope now but in him."

The kittens began to frisk and gambol about the velvet, and the old cat, with a contented purr, jumped up beside them. She was tired, poor thing, and glad to find a soft bed. At that moment those who were watching saw a change come upon the Prince's face. His eyelids quivered. His lips moved slightly. The King raised his hands and trembled.

Then began a frolic upon that royal bed such as for ten years had not been seen in all the kingdom. Up and down, around and around, the kittens chased one another. They rolled over and over, kicking and biting. They played with their mother's tail. They scampered over the still body of the Prince himself, and one of them, coming to his hand, began to play with the white fingers, nibbling at them and licking them with warm little pink tongue.

And what happened? Slowly the Prince's eyes opened. For a moment they gazed blankly at the frolicking kittens. Then his lips gradually parted, and the flicker of a tiny smile came upon them. The King clasped his hands over his eyes, and gave a cry of joy. The little Princess laid her head on the pillow beside her brother's and wept silently.

The kitten which was playing with the Prince's hand rolled over on its back and began to kick at the royal fingers. A tiny red scratch appeared on the milky skin. At the same moment a bit of color came into the Prince's white lips and cheeks. He turned his head, and lifting his hand stroked the soft ball of fur. The little thing responded immediately, arching its back and beginning to purr. Presently the Prince's other hand stole out from under the coverlet. He drew the kitten feebly to his face and rubbed his cheek against the silky fur, and he smiled!



The doctor turned to the King. "He will live," he said. "It must be magic!"

"He lives! My son lives!" cried the King, bending over the Prince in a transport.

The Prince opened his eyes and looked at him, and a change came upon his face. The smile faded, and he closed his eyes wearily.

"Your Majesty," said John, speaking gently, "if you will allow me to give the Prince a healing draught which I myself have made from life-giving herbs, I think now he will sleep and waken refreshed."

"Do as you will!" cried the King. "Whatever you wish shall be done in the palace. Whatever you ask shall be given."

With a word and a gentle touch John roused the Prince, who swallowed the draught which the boy gave him. "Now let us leave him to sleep," said John.

But when they would have removed the cat and kittens, a cloud came over the Prince's face, and his hand wandered feebly, as if craving the touch of the silky fur.

"We will leave them here," said John. "They are what he needs."

"Oh, let me stay too!" cried the little Princess, with shining eyes.

And across the room she and John smiled at each other, as he nodded, saying, "Yes, O King, I pray that you will let the little maid stay."

So they withdrew from the chamber, and left the Prince to dream with his new friends sleeping about him, and the little sister with her head upon the pillow at his side. And all night long he slept like a baby with a smile upon his face.

The Prince's cure had begun.



XXIII

THE CURE

There was wonder and excitement in the palace, for the news of John's success had been told from mouth to mouth. The King ordered the Hermit's chains to be removed, and he and his pupil were treated with utmost honor. But they refused all gifts which the monarch made them; and he was annoyed.

In the morning John and the Hermit went once more to see their patient. They found him and the little Princess playing with the kittens, and both looked up with a smile when the visitors entered. But at sight of John the Prince's color faded and the smile died on his lips. John bore the white pigeon in his hands, and going to the bedside bent over the Prince with a gay manner.

"You are better?" he asked.

The Prince's eyes looked into his wonderingly.

"Why do you try to help me?" he asked. "Once I tried to kill you."

The little Princess gasped.

"I came to heal and help you if I could," said John, laughing. "I brought my pets to cheer you. See, here is the dove of peace. She brought me the message which has saved your life. Will you not love her as I do?"

He placed the bird on the Prince's breast, and with a gentle coo the creature nestled there confidingly. Tears came to the Prince's eyes.

"You are very good," he said. "I tried to kill your pets in the forest."

"O brother!" cried the little maid, clasping her hands with a sob. "How could you!"

"Let us forget that," said John brightly. "Let us be friends. You will get well and learn to love the animals for their own sake."

"Oh, yes!" said the little girl. "I never saw any before, but how can one help loving these dear little pets,—and the lovely bird?" She stroked the white feathers tenderly.

But the Prince covered his face with his hands and seemed to be weeping. "I cannot forget!" he said brokenly.

John felt very uncomfortable. "If only I could make him laugh, now!" he thought. Then an idea came to him,—a funny idea which made his eyelids quiver and the brown spot wink.

With a twist of his body he suddenly stood upon his head at the foot of the Prince's couch, and, waving his feet in the air, began to walk about the chamber on his hands. The Prince uncovered his eyes and gazed in astonishment at such antics.

Presently John regained his feet, and kissing his hand began to turn somersaults vigorously all about the apartment. The little Princess clapped her hands and began to laugh. The Prince watched him, fascinated. Presently, as John's high spirits broke out into fuller pranks and gyrations, the Prince's lips quivered. He began to grin.

"Oh, you are a tumbler," he said. "I am glad you have come here! Do it again."

So John did it again; and this time the Prince, watching him, echoed the gay laugh of the little Princess. "It is as good as a play," he said, feebly wiping the tears of merriment from his cheeks. "I wish I could do it myself!"



"You must get well first," said John, laughing.

"I will try," said the Prince, with a new spirit in his tone. And from that moment he began to grow stronger.

Now came days when the palace was much happier than it had been for years. The presence of the animals was in itself a joy to the King's people, long starved for the lack of pets. And John's sunny face and quaint smile were reflected on all about him. There is nothing so catching as good humor, and John started an epidemic which spread through the palace, and indeed through the whole city. No one knew how it happened. But before long the flaxen-haired boy was the pet of the whole town. Not only was he welcome always in the Prince's chamber, but every door at which he knocked opened gladly to him, and he was at home wherever he went.

Only the King held aloof. He had grown strangely grim and sullen since his son's cure was assured. The King was jealous.

What with the animals to play with and John's tumbling, the Prince was continually in gales of laughter, and every day he grew plumper and more rosy. Sometimes it was Brutus who amused him; often the cat and kittens, his first friends. The raven became a great favorite after his introduction to the Prince, which happened in this wise.

John had delayed to bring the bird into the royal chamber, he was so mischievous. But one day when the Prince seemed very merry, John slipped out and fetched the black fellow on his shoulder. On being invited to do so, the raven hopped gravely to the foot of the bed, where he perched, eyeing the Prince with little round eyes and head cocked knowingly.

Presently the bird gave a queer screech, and began to imitate John's own laughter so exactly that the Prince shook with mirth. At this the raven stood upon one leg gravely, and began to sidle along the footboard of the bed. Presently he spied some fruit carved on the wooden uprights, and making a dart began to peck at the pears and peaches. Then, discovering his mistake, once more he began to chuckle, this time so heartily that he seemed ready to have a fit. And as he listened the Prince's mouth widened and he burst into roars of laughter.

"Hush, you foolish bird!" said John reprovingly. "Be not so noisy in a Prince's chamber. It is not good manners!" and he threw his handkerchief over the raven's head.

But the Prince protested. "Let him do his pleasure," he said, laughing. "I have not seen anything so funny for many a day. I shall teach him many tricks."

So the raven stayed with the Prince, and learned many tricks. And the carrier pigeon stayed. And the others stayed,—all but the wolf, who would never leave John,—making themselves quite at home on the Prince's velvet couch. And the little Princess played with them, enjoying the happiest hours of her life.

One only of the animals the Prince had not seen. The Hermit and John agreed that until he was stronger he must not see the bear whom he had once tried to kill. For they knew that now it would make the Prince sad and ashamed to remember that day in the forest. Such a change had come upon the young man! He was no longer hard and cruel, but tender and affectionate.

The King felt the change, and it made him angry.



XXIV

THE KING

Daily, as the Prince grew stronger, he became more and more devoted to the animals, to John and the good Hermit. He could scarcely bear them out of his sight. When they were with him his face lighted with smiles, and he seemed to blossom as a flower does in sunshine. Only in the presence of the King he grew silent and sad once more. The light passed from his eyes as he looked at the grim old man. A visit from the King was almost enough to undo the good effects of a whole day of happiness.

The King knew this, and it made him furious. He did not see that it was his own fault; that it was the badness in him which made the Prince shrink. He thought it was the doing of some one else. He grew to hate the Hermit and John and the animals, of whom his son and daughter were so fond. In his heart he cared little for any one. He had never loved the Princess Clare, and the Prince was dear only because one day he would be king. Yet Robert hated to see them love any one else.

The King was resolved to put an end to this state of things as soon as might be. But he dared not do anything yet for fear of causing his son to fall ill again. He sat and brooded and planned in his wicked heart what he would do when the Prince should be well once more. And for him the time went slowly which others found so happy.

Of all this the Prince and John guessed nothing. For the King seemed to them no more gruff and grum than usual. All the wishes of the strangers were regarded, and they were treated like distinguished guests in the palace. But the Hermit kept his eyes open. And one other was not blind to the King's hatred. Clare, the little Princess who had never been loved by her father, knew the meaning of the black looks which he sometimes cast upon the two forest-comers, and her heart was uneasy, for she loved them both.

The Prince grew so much better that he could walk about. One day he was lying upon his couch in a balcony overlooking the royal park. The Hermit sat close by, reading aloud from the book which he was teaching the Prince to love, as he had taught John. The little Princess bent over her embroidery frame at the foot of the couch, and John himself, on the floor at her feet, was playing with Brutus. The other animals and birds were straying about the balcony, or lay cuddled in the Prince's lap. John thought how like this scene was to the Animal Kingdom in the woods; yet how unlike. And he glanced from the Prince to the Princess with a smile of content. It seemed hardly possible that this was the land where no pets were allowed; where hunting was the favorite sport of the King and his son!

Suddenly, in a pause of the reading, the Prince put out his hand.

"Friends," he said, "you have taught me many things in these weeks that you have dwelt under this roof. You have cured me; you have made me laugh. I have been thinking much of late how it is that where you come folk are happy. Your faces make the world smile. How different from my father and me! We have always made every one weep. There has been something wrong, I know not what. No one loves us,—not even Clare here."

"O brother!" protested the little maid, "I have always loved you. But never so dearly as now, when you have grown so kind."

John spoke gently. "You will change all this when you are king," he said.

The Prince shook his head. "No, they will never love me as they do you. I would fain be different, but I can never be like you, John. You should be king, not I."

John laughed. "And what would become of the Animal Kingdom then?" he said. "My father and I have been talking together. We must soon go back to our woods and our little friends there."

"Oh, you must not go!" gasped the Prince, turning pale. "You must never leave me! I can never again be alone with the King!"

He looked so terror-stricken that the Hermit and John were silent for pity.

"I have been thinking," went on the Prince gravely, "that when I am king, if that time ever comes,—and they say that it must, since there is no other son of our house,—I shall need much help, for I am weak and not wise. You, good father, I would have you for my counselor. And you,"—he laid his arm affectionately on John's shoulder,—"you shall be my brother and share the throne with me."

"Nay, thrones cannot be shared thus," said the Hermit, looking at both boys with some agitation. "You are a king's son. But we are of the woods, my Prince. I at least have other work to do. As John says, there is the Animal Kingdom—what is to become of that?"

"Why, there will be no need for you to go to find it," answered the Prince eagerly. "When I am king all shall be changed. This shall be the Animal Kingdom. There shall be no more hunting or killing here. There shall be pets,—more than in any other land. For I have seen how unhappy are folk who live without them."

"Now God be praised!" cried the good Hermit, with tears in his eyes.

And John embraced the Prince heartily, while the little Princess clapped her hands and cried with shining eyes, "Oh! we shall all live together forever and ever, as happily as if this were the lovely forest which is John's home."

"Nay," said the Hermit gravely, "I cannot live here. I must go back to my woods. I have vowed never again to live away from my Forest Kingdom. But you, John, have taken no vow. Will you stay here with the Prince, or will you go back with me? Make now your choice."

John looked wistfully at the Prince and Princess, for he loved them well. He looked at the animals who crowded around him and seemed to be listening to his words. He knew how eager they were to be back in the forest. He looked at the Hermit.

"Oh, stay!" cried the Prince. "Stay and be my brother, and I will make you rich and powerful."

"Oh, stay!" begged the little Princess. "Stay and be my brother, too!"

But John shook his head. "I cannot stay," he said. "If my dear father will have me for his pupil still, I will go back with him. For though it is pleasant here, I love best the life of the woods and the freedom of the forest. And I long to learn what no one in this kingdom can teach me: the art of healing and helping, as did that good John whose name I bear."

The Hermit's face beamed like May sunshine, but he said nothing.

"Then I will go to the forest with you!" cried the Prince. "I will not stay here. I do not want to be king. I too would be free and happy in the Kingdom of the Forest."

"And I will go also!" said the Princess.

"Hush!" said the Hermit gravely. "That may not be. Your duty lies here. When you are king, my Prince, you can make your kingdom into a happy place. Then, little Princess, you will be proud of it and of him. Your duty is to the kingdom where you were born, and to the people of it, whom you can make happier and better. But perhaps, some day when I am gone to a still fairer kingdom, John will be able to help you, as another John once helped another King."

At this moment there was a noise at the window which led to the balcony, and the King stepped out to them. How long he had been standing inside, how much of their talk he had heard, no one knew.

The Princess flushed; but the Prince turned pale as he greeted his father respectfully. John and the Hermit exchanged glances. They were not afraid for themselves, but they dreaded the King's wrath for his son and daughter, who had threatened to run away.

The King stood for a moment, looking at the group with a frown. Then a peculiar smile twisted his lips.

"Ah!" he said, "I have intruded, it seems, upon a council of State. I fear that I interrupt your plans, my son. But I trust that you and these noble visitors will pardon my desire to learn the state of your health. You must not be over-excited." He waved his hand toward the Hermit and John, then bowed low to each of the animals in turn, with bitter mockery.

The Princess trembled, for she saw how angry the King was.

"We have no secrets, my friends and I," said the Prince with dignity. "We have nothing to conceal of which we are ashamed."

The King looked at him quickly, as if suspecting that his words meant some reproach. But he only said, "That is well." Then his manner changed. He tried to appear merry and genial. "And now, my son," he said, "since you are so much better, I wish to plan a festival in your honor, to celebrate your cure."

The little Princess looked at him quickly. She suspected some treachery. But the Prince seemed pleased.

"For me?" he said. "A festival in which these friends may share—these friends who saved my life?"

"Ay," answered the King, bowing to the group once more with a peculiar smile. "Surely, it shall be also in honor of these friends to whom we are so grateful." The Hermit and John bowed. The King went on suavely: "We will have a pageant, with music and games and singing. But chiefly the people clamor to see our young friend do the wonderful tricks of which they have heard. I myself would fain see what you, my son, have found so amusing. My lad,"—he turned to John with a strange tone in his voice,—"you shall dance and tumble and put your animals through their paces, for the applause of my people. I command you to appear before us this day week and do your sprightliest. It is not often that we have the honor of entertaining a mountebank at court."

He spoke the word "mountebank" sneeringly, and John flushed. But seeing the Hermit sitting with downcast eyes, he merely answered:—

"I shall obey your Majesty's commands."

"Then that is settled," said the King, with a grunt of satisfaction. "And you,"—he turned to the Prince,—"you will then be strong enough to sit at my side on the throne. It is well."

He quite ignored the little daughter who with a pale face shrank in one corner. With one last glance at the group, the King swept from the balcony.

"A fete!" said the Prince, clapping his hands. "A grand fete in your honor, my kind friends. That will be rare sport! John, you shall make the whole city laugh, even as you have cured me."

"I shall do my best," answered John. "Yes, I will teach some of my little friends new tricks for that fete." And he laughed as he thought how the Prince and Princess would stare when they saw Bruin dance.

John and the Prince left the balcony arm in arm, to talk over the plans for the fete. But the Hermit still sat with bent brows, thinking.

"Why did he call John a mountebank?" he asked himself. "He hates us. He is planning some mischief, I believe. It is time we were back in our Animal Kingdom."

He looked up. The Princess was touching his arm and her face was very pale. "Father," she said, for so the royal children loved to call the good old man. "Father, there is mischief in the air. Oh! do be on your guard. For I think it would break my heart if anything should happen to you or to dear John."

The Hermit stroked her hair gently. "Dear child," he said, "we will take care of him, you and I and the animals."



XXV

THE FETE

The day for the festival came at last. The Prince was now quite strong and well, and had taken a joyous part in the preparations. The palace was decorated with flowers; bands were playing, fountains splashing in the courtyard; banquets were spread at all hours for any one who would partake. The palace was merrier than it had been for years; and the centre of all the joy, the core of the day's happiness, was John. His praise was on every one's lips. His name, even more often than the young Prince's whose health they were celebrating, was spoken in love and tenderness.

But all this John did not seem to know. He only saw that every one was very kind; that the world might be a very happy place to live in, if love ruled the kingdoms of it. And he made ready for his share in the merrymaking with a light heart. It was great fun to play at being a mountebank once more for the people who loved him! Yet he was not sorry that the next day he and the Hermit were going back to the kingdom in the forest. He was longing for the peace and quiet of the woods, and the little wild friends who awaited them there.

The King he never saw. That monarch seemed anxious to keep out of his way as far as possible. John did not know that he and the Hermit were being carefully watched by the King's spies, and that they were really prisoners in the palace. For they were treated honorably, and the King sent word that John must ask for whatever he wished to make his performance a success.

John asked for little. Upon one thing, however, he had set his heart. He had made for that occasion a tumbler's suit of green silk, with trunks of cloth-of-gold—just such a suit as Gigi had worn when he was one of the mountebank company. But the boy who pranced gaily about the palace in this gorgeous attire was a very different fellow from the sad-eyed little Gigi. John was tall and sturdy and full of life. His eyes sparkled with fun and good humor, and looked at the world frankly as if expecting kindness from every one. So much had five years of love and humanity done for the little wanderer.

When John appeared in the courtyard ready for his performance, dressed in the familiar colors of long ago, he could not help chuckling to think how things had changed with him. Instead of Cecco and the Giant, by his side waddled the great bear on his hind legs; while Brutus walked sedately on his other side, and the gaunt wolf stalked behind.

The park was thronged with people, soldiers and citizens and peasants from the country, jostling one another for a sight of John and his pets,—and whispering among themselves with an excitement which John could not understand. For after all he was going to give a simple little show of tumbling such as they must have seen many times. "It is the animals," he thought. "It must be the animals that they are so eager to see."

John walked along, smiling into the faces which met his kindly, and the brown spot on his eyelid gave him the mischievous look which always made folk laugh. It was amid a ripple of good-natured laughter that he and his pets made their way to the platform which had been erected in front of the palace. Here on a high seat sat the King, and beside him the Prince, with a flush of pleasure on his thin cheeks. Gaily dressed lords and ladies stood about the throne. But somewhat apart and surrounded by his pets sat the Hermit in his gray robe, with folded arms. His hood was pulled over his face so that John could not see how grave he was. Two armed men stood behind him, but by his side, with her hand on his shoulder, was the little Princess. John smiled at her, when he bowed low to the people on the platform. And the little maid answered with a flash of affection; but her face was very pale, and her hand trembled on the Hermit's shoulder.

John led forward his animals and they began their tricks. The Hermit saw the Prince start when Bruin appeared. Evidently he recognized the animal which he had once tried to kill. Merrily John urged the clumsy fellow to dance, and every one laughed heartily at the sight. Only the King sat grim and sullen.



Then John put a plumed hat on the bear's head, took his arm, and the two strutted about the platform like a pair of dandies. The audience burst into roars of mirth. Even the Hermit's sides were shaking, and the little Princess rocked to and fro with merriment.

Straight up to the Prince marched the twain, and at John's command the bear bowed and held out his hand politely.

"He salutes you, his brother," said John to the Prince. "He begs you to be friends with him always."

The Prince bowed in return, with a bright flush in his cheeks. "I salute you, brother," he replied. "Never again will I hunt you or any animal, wherever I may be."

From the foremost of the crowd who heard these words came a loud "Hurrah!" and caps were tossed in the air. Evidently the Prince's sentiment was popular in the city.

"Tut, tut!" said the King, "we will see about that!" He bit his lip and bent a frown upon the group before him. The Hermit saw him whisper a word into the ear of one of his courtiers, who bowed and disappeared.

Now John put Brutus and the wolf through their tricks, which were wonderful indeed; for the dog was very intelligent, and had learned all that the best educated dog nowadays can do, and more beside. Then the wolf's leaping was a thing to wonder at, he was so lithe and strong. Over Brutus he leaped, over John's head, over the bear, over John standing on the bear's broad back.

At the end the Prince applauded heartily, and calling up the dog and the wolf, placed a golden collar about the neck of each.

"Good friends," said the Prince, "you helped to save my life, you and your brothers, and your masters. I give you these. But them I never can repay if I live to be as old as Noah, who was the first to gather pets about him. I hope that in time there may be many pets throughout the kingdom."

He glanced timidly at the King.

"Hurrah!" shouted the people. "Long live the Prince. Long live John and his animals! Hurrah! Hurrah!"

"No more of this!" The King made a gesture, and the shouting stopped, changing into sullen murmurs. The King was not popular, it seemed. "Let the performance proceed!" he commanded. "I do not like these interruptions."

Once more the Hermit saw him whisper to a servant, who went away quickly on some mysterious errand.

Now, with a happy face, John himself stepped forward and showed his skill and strength and grace. He turned somersaults backward and forward; he stood upon his head and danced upon his hands. He did all the old tricks which he had learned of the tumblers, and more of his own invention, till the people shouted rapturously, "Bravo! Bravo! Hurrah for our John!"

With his eye on the Prince, John began to caper at his merriest. He danced high, leaping like a grasshopper, and seeming to bound like thistledown. All the while his eyes twinkled, and the people laughed with delight.

"Bravo! John, bravo!" shouted the Prince, clapping his hands. "Come here and let me decorate you, my friend." And as John bowed before him the Prince placed upon his bosom a beautiful star of diamonds that gleamed and sparkled like a cobweb full of dew.

"Hurrah! Hurrah! Long life to John! John! John!" shouted the people, as if they loved the name.

And the Hermit saw that the King turned pale and shook with wrath at the sound. The next moment he grasped the arms of his chair and stared into the crowd eagerly.

Suddenly he arose, and, waving his sceptre, commanded silence. John bowed and turned to the King, waiting to hear his pleasure. But instead of the speech which every one expected, they saw the King gazing down into the crowd before him, and on his lips was a malicious smile. But he looked very old and sick, and he tottered as he held to the arm of his throne.



XXVI

THE TALISMAN

John turned his head to see at what the King was staring. There was a movement in the crowd. Men were being elbowed forward. A noise of harsh voices arose, and to the platform crowded three figures in rags and tatters.

They forced their way directly in front of the platform, and stood staring up. John stepped forward to see what it meant, and in a moment fell back with a cry of dismay. He was looking into the eyes of Cecco, Tonio and the Giant!

"Hi! Master Gigi!" cried Tonio's hateful voice; "so here we find you setting up as a tumbler on your own account. Your Majesty," he cried, appealing to the King, who was listening with a wicked grin on his face, "this is our boy. We own him. He ran away, but he belongs to us. Give him to us again!"

The little Princess screamed and clung to the Hermit's arm; but he sat motionless, watching. The people began to murmur and jostle the three strangers. But the King raised his hand, and they listened to him.

"We will hear these men," he said. Then, turning to John, he added smoothly, "And after that, sirrah, you shall answer for yourself."

The Hermit rose and took a step forward, still holding the little Princess by the hand. Brutus broke away from the page who held him, and crouched growling at John's side.

Then Tonio raised his voice, and cried louder, pointing at John with his skinny hand. "He is our boy," he said. "We taught him his trade; let him deny it. Now he is robbing us of our fair dues. He is a runaway. Give him back to us!"

Still John stared at him, too dazed to answer. But the Hermit took another step forward, and said sternly:—

"He is your boy, you say. How did you come by him?"

"We bought him for a gold piece," they said in chorus. "That was years ago. For ten years he traveled with us. And then he ran away. His life is ours; let him deny it if he can!"

John stood silent, horrified at the fate which seemed to confront him. For in those days children who were bought and sold in this cruel way were the slaves of the masters who had purchased them.

The Prince had fallen back, pale and trembling. But the King now spoke again, gazing with malicious eyes upon the two wood-folk whom he hated.

"What have you to say for yourselves?" he asked. "You who do not deny that you are a runaway; you, old man, who stole the lad and must be punished most severely therefor, have you any reason why I should not give the one of you up to these mountebanks, his lawful masters, and the other of you to punishment and death? Speak!" The King's voice was harsh and cruel. His eyes glittered fiercely.

Still John was silent.

"Seize him!" commanded the King. "Seize them both! Off with them to prison!"

The guards stepped forward, unwillingly enough. But at that moment John drew himself up. His eyes flashed; he grasped in both hands the staff over which he had made the wolf leap, and braced himself for defense.

"They shall not take me!" he cried. "I will not go with them. I will die sooner. To me, my brothers!" and he gave a shrill, peculiar cry by which he and the Hermit were wont to call their pets.



Instantly the Hermit ranged himself at John's side. At the same moment Brutus placed himself, barking and growling, before the twain. Breaking from the leash by which he was held, the wolf came leaping towards them, and stood bristling beside the dog, showing his terrible fangs. With a savage growl Bruin burst his chain and came lumbering to the defense of his friends, and the three devoted animals made a stout and terrible wall about them. But this was not all. From the corners where they were crouched came running the other, gentler pets. Here scampered the cat and her kittens, mewing pitifully. Across the platform hopped the raven. The carrier pigeon fluttered to the Hermit's shoulder. And from the trees all roundabout came winging, with a call answering to John's, a flock of birds who had followed him from the forest, and who had been hidden in the forbidden trees of the King's park until this very hour. They fluttered like a cloud about the heads of the pair, so that one could scarcely see them.

Every one stood amazed; even the King sank back in his seat, stupefied. The guards fell back with lowered weapons. The crowd was silent, staring open-mouthed. Then a murmur arose, and words passed from man to man.

"A miracle! It is a miracle! They must be God's saints!"

But Tonio was not long silent. "Tricks! Tricks!" he cried. "Gigi has become an animal-trainer. But he is our boy still. Give him to us!"

"Seize them!" repeated the King in a choking voice.

Once more the guards made a rush forward. But the animals leaped up and stood at bay so fiercely that they dared not come nearer. The Hermit raised his hand, and there was sudden silence. He faced the King and spoke sternly.

"O King," he said, "you see that they will never take us alive. In sight of all these people will you add more deaths to your record?" The murmur of the crowd grew louder. "Nay, all has not yet been said," he went on. "Listen, O King. You judge too quickly. There is not proof enough of the lad's ownership."

"Not enough?" snarled the King. "I say there is enough and to spare. Can this boy dispute the words of these men?"

John now looked at the Hermit eagerly. His heart beat with hope of something, he knew not what.

The King sneered. "You see!" he cried triumphantly.

But once more the Hermit held up his hand. "Will you not question these fellows further?" he asked. "Dare you hear more, O King?"

"Dare I!" blustered the King, "and why not, pray? If there be more to say, tell it," he commanded the mountebanks.

"Ay," they answered eagerly, "we can indeed prove that the boy is ours."

"Tell how you came by him," interrupted the Hermit, in a tone not to be disobeyed.

Tonio answered sullenly:—

"We have told already. We bought him for a gold piece, of a fisherman on a distant coast. He had found the babe, nearly dead with cold and hunger, floating in a basket on the sea. It was a castaway, a foundling; no one wanted it. We took it away with us, and had hard work to make it live."

"Is that all?" asked the Hermit. "Was there nothing to prove that this is the same child?" He said this in a loud voice so that every one could hear.

"Proof!" cried Tonio, shaking his fist at John fiercely. "Who can mistake him in that suit, the very one we gave him? Look at his mop of yellow tow and his eye with the brown spot over it. No one who has seen it could forget that spot. Ay, there is still another way to prove him ours. I see the gleam of silver around his neck. He still wears the chain and the bit of silver which he dares not remove, because there is magic in it, they say. It was on his neck when the fisherman found him. Look, and see if we do not say truth!"

John still stood motionless, looking in the Hermit's face. But at these last words the old man stepped behind him and drew the silver talisman from the boy's breast, laying it out on his green silk bosom, where it glittered for all to see.

Cecco and Tonio and the Giant gave a cry of triumph. But from the crowd behind them rose a murmur of different meaning. Men began to crowd forward eagerly.

"Yes, look!" cried the Hermit, pointing at the medal. "The Cross of the good man John, the friend of King Cyril! Which of you does not know and love it?"

The murmur of the crowd swelled into a shout,—"Who is he? Who is the lad? We will know!"

"Who but John," answered the Hermit, with kindling eyes. "Who but John, the good man's son,—my brother's son. I know, for I christened the child, and I saw the King hang this Cross about the baby's neck, a Cross like the one he had given John himself. This is the child who disappeared fourteen years ago. The King sent him away to be killed. But the servant to whom the task fell was less cruel. The child was set adrift on the ocean, and escaped as you have heard. Will you let him be lost again?"

"No! No!" roared the crowd. "He shall not go! He shall not go!" And they seized the three mountebanks and hustled them away.

With a shout the King's own guards rushed forward to help in this matter. There was a cry at the back of the platform. The King had fallen in a fit. But few at the moment were thinking of him. The people were throwing up their caps and dancing joyously.

"John! John!" they shouted. "We knew the silver Cross which the holy John always wore when he went about doing good to us. Oh, we remember now! We shall never again forget! John! Hurrah for his son John!"

John himself stood bewildered, and the animals around him shivered and looked surprised. They were not used to such tumults. Suddenly John felt his hand clasped softly. The little Princess was at his side, looking up in his face and smiling through tears. "Dear John!" she said. "Now you are safe. Now you will be our brother indeed!"

"Yes, he is safe," said the Hermit, embracing the boy tenderly. "My John! My brother's son! Oh, how I have longed to tell you and claim you for my nephew! But I vowed that I would wait until you had proved yourself worthy of him, worthy of the name by which I christened you. And you are worthy, O my dear John, even to wear the silver Cross!"

"I do not understand yet," said John. "Who am I? And why do the people shout my name and seem to love me so much?"

"You are the son of John, the holy friend of the people," answered the Hermit.

"But you, my father,—for so I must call you still," said John; "who are you, and how came you to be living in the forest?"

"I was but a humble servant of God," said the Hermit. "But when King Cyril died, and my brother and you were gone, there was not happiness for me in the city of sorrow. I became an exile. I fled to the forest with the hunted animals who were my brother's friends. And there I made a home for them, a kingdom of my own, with Brutus for my prime minister. And there, after many years, you came to find me, my dear son! It was a miracle!"

Now the Prince came forward and laid his hand timidly on John's shoulder. "John," he said, "now you know how less than ever you have reason to love the rulers of this land. But oh, John! I beg you to forgive us. Be my brother, John; and if you can forget, let me be your friend!"

"My brother and friend!" cried John; and the two hugged each other affectionately, while Brutus leaped up and licked the face first of one, then of the other, and the other animals frisked joyously.

"Hurrah! Hurrah!" shouted the people, "They are like good King Cyril and his friend the holy John. Let it be so! Let it be so! Hurrah! Hurrah!"



CONCLUSION

And so it turned out to be. For soon the old King died, worn out by wicked passions, and Prince Hugh became King. Then began a new order of things. The land was now a happy kingdom, full of love and peace. Like his uncle, the new monarch became known as the Good King. In his realm was never hunting or cruel sport. The houses of his subjects were full of pets. And the palace itself was a perfect menagerie, so that John called it "The Ark." There were hundreds of new four-footed friends in the park and palace; and hundreds of two-footed friends in the trees and dovecotes. To and fro they went between the city and the forest. For all ways were safe now to wandering creatures. A highroad was made connecting the King's city with the Hermit's wood. And the path to the door of the hut was worn smooth. For this soon became a favorite place of pilgrimage.

There in the Forest Kingdom lived the good Hermit and John his nephew, with their circle of pets. And these also went back and forth between the forest and the city. For John was the Prince's dear friend and companion, and spent many weeks of the year in the palace with the two whom he loved. His pets were as eagerly welcomed there as he. Brutus had his own rug by the young King's fireplace. The wolf made a faithful guardian of the palace gate, while John was inside. Bruin wandered about the halls at his pleasure. The cat purred contentedly on the brocade furniture, with ever-new kittens frisking about her. The raven often perched on the back of King Hugh's chair and made wise sounds. And while waiting to carry a message to the Hermit in the forest, the carrier pigeon loved to nestle in the arms of the young Princess, who grew prettier and prettier every day.

To the Kingdom in the Forest came folk from everywhere. The quiet of the Hermit's retreat was often broken. But nevertheless the old man was happy. For he saw his boy fast growing into the man he had hoped him to be, the copy of his father, beloved John. With the silver Cross on his bosom, the strange, merry smile ever on his face, and a kind word always on his lips, John ministered to all who needed him; and he went far and wide to find them. He was always happy, whatever he might be doing; alone with the Hermit and his animal friends; helping the troubled and the ailing; wandering with Brutus and the wolf through the still lonely parts of the wood; studying the never-failing wonders of the Kingdom in the Forest. But he was happiest of all, perhaps, when the King and Princess came to visit him, as they loved to do,—without servants or followers, with only an animal or two. For this country was the safest and most peaceful in the world.



Then they would all dress in simple green and brown and go out into the forest to ramble and to become acquainted with the wild creatures. There they met the old friends of the wood who had not gone with the others on that famous pilgrimage. And the deer, the fox, the squirrel, the rabbits, and the birds were always glad to see them.

Here John could teach the young King to tumble and turn somersaults to his heart's delight, without any one to say, "How undignified!" For whatever the friendly beasts and birds thought of these antics, they never spoke critically of the matter.

Here also John taught the Princess the secret lore of the forest, so that she became almost as wise and skillful as he. But no one could say, "How unladylike!" For she grew sweeter and dearer every day.

And the good old Hermit watched them always with loving eyes.

THE END