"Yes. He was banished this morning right after breakfast." The announcement began with a tremor but ended with imperial firmness.
"Great Scott!" gasped the other, genuinely shocked.
"I banished him," said the Prince ruefully. "But," with a fine smile, "I don't think he'll go. He never does. See my sign up there?" He pointed to the rocks near the grotto. "I did it with Hugo's shoe blacking."
A placard containing the important announcement, "NO FISHING ALOUD" stared down at the poachers from a tree trunk above. There was nothing very peremptory in its appearance, but its designer was sufficiently impressed by the craftiness it contained.
"I put it up so's people wouldn't think anybody—not even me—would dare to fish here. Oh, look!" The second of his ruddy mess was flopping in the grass. Again Truxton thought of Mr. Hobbs, this time with anxious glances in all directions.
"Where do they think you are, your Highness?"
"Out walking with my aunt. Only she met Count Vos Engo, and while they were talking I made a sneak—I mean, I stole away."
"Then they'll be searching for you in all parts of the—" began Truxton, coming to his feet. "I really must be going. Please excuse me, your—"
"Oh, don't go! I'll not let 'em do anything to you," said the Prince staunchly. "I like Americans better than anybody else," he went on with deft persuasiveness. "They ain't—aren't afraid of anything. They're not cowards."
Truxton sat down at once. He could not turn tail in the face of such an exalted opinion.