That same night a Graustark mountaineer passed the sentinels and brought news of the disturbance in Edelweiss. He could give no details. He only knew that there had been serious rioting in the streets and that the gates were closed against all comers. He could not tell whether the rioters—most of whom he took to be strikers, had been subdued or whether mob-law prevailed. He had been asked to cast his lot with the strikers, but had refused. For this he was driven away from his home, which was burned. His wife and child were now at the Monastery, where many persons had taken refuge.
In a flash it occurred to John Tullis that Marlanx was at the bottom of this deviltry. The abduction of Loraine was a part of his plan! Prince Dantan advised a speedy return to the city. His men were at the command of the American. Moreover, the Prince himself decided to accompany the troops.
Before sunrise, the command, now five or six hundred strong, was picking its way down the dangerous mountain roads toward the main highway. Fifteen miles below Edelweiss they came upon the company of soldiers sent out to preserve order in the railroad camps.
The officer in charge exhibited a document, given under the hand and seal of Baron Dangloss, directing him to remain in command of the camps until the strikers, who were unruly, could be induced to resume work once more. This order, of course, was a forgery, designed to mislead the little force until Marlanx saw fit to expose his hand to the world. It had come by messenger on the very day of the rioting. The messenger brought the casual word that the government was arresting and punishing the lawless, and that complete order would hardly be established for several days at the outside. He went so far as to admit that an attempt on the life of the Prince had failed. Other reports had come to the camps, and all had been to the effect that the rioting was over. The strikers, it seemed, were coming to terms with their employers and would soon take up the work of construction once more. All this sufficed to keep the real situation from reaching the notice of the young captain; he was obeying orders and awaiting the return of the workmen.
The relief that swept into the souls of the newly arrived company was short-lived. They had gone into camp, tired, sore and hungry, and were preparing to take a long needed rest before taking up the last stage of their march toward the city. John Tullis was now in feverish haste to reach the city, where at least he might find a communication from the miscreants, demanding ransom. He had made up his mind to pay whatever they asked. Down in his heart, however, there was a restless fear that she had not fallen into the hands of ordinary bandits. He could not banish the sickening dread that she was in the power of Marlanx, to whom she alone could pay the ransom exacted.
Hardly had the men thrown themselves from their horses when the sound of shooting in the distance struck their ears. Instantly the entire force was alert. A dozen shots were fired in rapid succession; then single reports far apart. The steady beat of horses' feet was now plain to the attentive company. There was a quick, incisive call to arms; a squad stood ready for action. The clatter of hoofs drew nearer; a small group of horsemen came thundering down the defile. Three minutes after the firing was first heard, sentries threw their rifles to their shoulders and blocked the approach of the riders.
A wild, glad shout went up from the foremost horseman. He had pulled his beast to its haunches almost at the muzzles of the guns.
"Tullis!" he shouted, waving his hat.
John Tullis ran toward the excited group in the road. He saw three men, one of whom was shouting his name with all the power in his lungs.
"Thank God, we've found you!" cried the horseman, swinging to the ground despite the proximity of strange rifles. "Put up your guns! We're friends!"