Again a shout went up.
"A million thanks," said the woman. "What will you give—a dozen dried fishes?"
"You don't know me," scowled Ivan proudly. "I am the son of your Prince,
Ivan the Brilliant. Beware how you treat me and these friends of mine."
"The boy will kill me!" cried the woman, leaning back and wiping the tears of mirth from her leathery cheeks. "Go on, go on, my prince. And will you not ask us to the palace some day soon? We would like to see you at your own home."
"Give us the children and set us free, and you may come," said Ivan after a pause.
"No; you are too amusing," said the woman. "Rather we will take you with us, or else leave you safely locked here where no one shall disturb you."
Ivan looked at the worn and haggard children and the form of Warren now stirring slightly, then he handed the great ruby to Michael.
"Take, this and let us go," he pleaded.
The man looked wonderingly at the flashing stone. "So you too help yourself in these war times?" he said sneeringly. "What else do you carry, little rat?"
He ran a practiced, light fingered hand over Ivan, searching for more jewels, but of course found none.