The George Barr McCutcheon MEGAPACK ®. George Barr McCutcheon

an outlandish place for a girl like her to live in,” he continued. “And that sweet-faced old lady and noble Uncle Caspar! Ye gods! one would think barbarians existed there and not such people as the Guggenslockers, refined, cultivated smart, rich. I’m more interested than ever in the place.”

      “So am I! I’m willing and ready to make the trip, old man, if you are still of a mind. It’s a lark, and, besides, she may not be the only pretty and gracious girl there. We’ve had bard work to find it on the map, let’s not stop till we see Edelweiss on the earth itself.”

      They made hasty preparations for the journey. Anguish, romantic and full of adventure, advised the purchase of a pair of pistols and a knife apiece, maintaining that, as they were going into an unknown and mountainous region, they should be prepared for brigands and other elements of danger. Lorry pooh-poohed the suggestion of brigands, but indulged his mood by buying some ugly-looking revolvers and inviting the prospect of something really thrilling in the way of an adventure. With their traps they were soon whirling through France, bound for a certain great city, on the road to Edelweiss, one filled with excitement, eagerness and boyish zeal, the other harrassed by the sombre fear that a grave disappointment was in store for him. Through the glamour and the picturesqueness of the adventure there always crept the unconquerable feeling that he was on a fool’s errand, that he was committing a deed so weak and brainless that it was sure to make him a veritable laughing-stock when it became known. After all, who was Miss Guggenslocker—brewer, baker, gardener or sausage-maker.

      Traveling, of course, was pleasant at this time of the year, and the two Americans saw much that interested them along the way. Their French, especially Anguish’s, was of great value to them, for they found occasion to use it at all times and in all places. Both spoke German fairly well, and took every opportunity to brush up in that language, Lorry remembering that the Guggenslockers used many expressions that showed a preference for the Teutonic. The blithe Anguish, confident and in high feather, was heart and soul in the odd expedition of love, and talked incessantly of their reception by the far-away hostess, their impressions and the final result. His camera and sketching materials were packed away with his traps. It was his avowed intention to immortalize the trip by means of plate, palate and brush.

      At the end of two days they reached a certain large city,—the first change, and then seven hundred miles to another. The distance from this point to the capital of Graustark was two hundred miles or more, chiefly through mountainous lands. Somewhat elated by the cheerful information there received, they resumed the journey to Edelweiss, the city of vale, slope and park,—summer, fall and winter. Changing cars at the end of the second day out, they sat back in the dusty seats of their carriage and sighed with relief.

      “Unless we jump the track, this train will land us in the city we are looking for,” said Anguish, stretching out his legs comfortably. “I’ll admit it has been a tiresome journey, and I’ll be glad when we can step into a decent hotel, have a rub, and feel like white men once more. I am beginning to feel like these dirty Slavs and Huns we saw ’way back there.”

      “There’s one thing certain,” said Lorry, looking out of the window. “The people and the habitations are different and the whole world seems changed since we left that station. Look at those fellows on horseback over there.”

      “What did I tell you about brigands and robbers!” exclaimed Anguish. “If those fellows are not bandits I’ll lose faith in every novel I ever read.”

      The train rolled slowly past three mounted men whose steeds stood like statues upon a little knoll to the right of the track, men and beasts engaged in silent contemplation of the cars. The men, picturesquely attired and looking fierce, carrying long rifles, certainly bore an aspect that suggested the brigand. When the guard entered the carriage Anguish asked in German for some information concerning the riders.

      “Dey’re frontier police-guards,” responded the man in English, smiling at their astonishment. Both Americans arose and shook hands with him.

      “By George, it’s good to hear a man talk white man’s language,” cried Anguish.

      “How do you come to be holding a job on this road? An Englishman?” demanded Lorry. He looked anything but English.

      “I’m not an Englishman,” said the guard, flushing slightly. “My name’s Sitzky, and I’m an American, sir.”

      “An American!” exclaimed Lorry. Sitzky grew loquacious.

      “Sure! I used to be a sailor on a United States man-o’war. A couple of years ago I got into trouble down at Constantinople and had to get out of de service. After dat I drifted up dis way and went to railroadin’.” He hadn’t exactly the manner of a man-of-warsman.

      “How long have you been on this road?” asked Grenfall.

      “’Bout a year, I should t’ink. Been on dis branch only two months, dough.”

      “Are you pretty well acquainted in Edelweiss?”

      “Oh, I run in dere every other day—in an’ out ag’in. It’s a fine place,—purtiest you ever saw in your life. The town runs right up the mountain to the tip-top where the monks are—clear up in d’ clouds. Dey say it snows up dere almost all d’ time.”

      Later on, from the loquacious guard, the two Americans learned quite a good bit about the country and city to which they were going. His knowledge was somewhat limited along certain lines, but quite clear as to others.

      “Dis Graustark, ’s fer as I know, is eeder a sort o’ state or somet’ing belongin’ to de Umpire, governed by it’s own rulers. Edelweiss is de capital, d’ big guns of d’ land lives dere. I’ve walked out and saw d’ castle where d’ Princess and d’ royalty hangs out. D’ people speak a language of deir own, and I can’t get next to a t’ink dey say. But once in a while you find some guy dat talks French or German. Dey’ve got a little standin’ army of two t’ree t’ousand men an’ dey’ve got de hottest uniforms you ever did see—red an’ black an’ gold. I don’t see why d’ United Rates can’t get up somethin’ foxy fer her soldiers to wear. Had a war over here not long ago, I understand—somethin’ like ten or fifteen years ago. Dere’s another little country up north of Graustark, and dey got in a wrangle ’bout somethin’, and dey tell me in Edelweiss dat for ’bout a year dey fought like Sam Patch.”

      “Which was victorious?” demanded Lorry, deeply interested.

      “I’m not sure. To hear d’ Edelweiss people talk you’d t’ink dey licked d’ daylights out of d’ other slobs, but somehow I got next to d’ fact dat dem other fellows captured de city an’ went after a slashin’ big war indemnity. I don’t know much ’bout it, an’ maybe I’m clear off but I t’ink d’ Graustark army was trashed. Every t’ing is prosperous now, dough, an’ you’d never know dere’d been a war. It’s d’most peaceable town I ever saw.”

      “Did you ever hear of the Guggenslockers?” asked the irrepressible Anguish, and Lorry felt like kicking him.

      “In Edelweiss? Never did. Friends of yours?”

      “Acquaintances,” interposed Lorry, hastily, frowning at Anguish.

      “You won’t have any trouble findin’ ’em if dere anybody at all,” said Sitzky, easily. “D’ hotel people ought to be able to tell you all ’bout ’em.”

      “By the way, what is the best hotel there?” asked Anguish.

      “Dere’s d’ Burnowentz, one block north of d’ depot.” The travelers looked at one another and smiled, Sitzky observing the action. “Oh,” he said, pleasantly, “dere’s a swell joint uptown called d’ Regengetz. It’s too steep fer me, but maybe you gents can stand it. It you’ll hang around d’ depot fer a little while after we get in I’ll steer you up dere.”

      “We’ll make it worth your while, Sitzky,” said Lorry.

      “Never mind dat, now. Americans ought to stick together, no matter where dey are. We’ll have a drink an’ ’at’s