"You seem to know the road extremely well, my friend," he said. "Doubtless you have carried many a valuable cargo over it with your friends. I fancy, however, this must be the first time you have convoyed a king."
The man looked sheepish.
"Well, well," continued my father, noticing his confusion, "if you have defrauded the king, you have at least made up for it by giving him his life. Since the bargain would strike you as a fair one, we will cry quits."
It was noticeable, as we approached the end of the passage, that the incline was not so steep. Indeed, at the mouth it was almost level walking. A moment later the guide put out his torch by knocking it against the wall, and as he did so, the daylight poured in upon us. We had reached the end of our underground journey. Outside, the world was covered with snow, and the air that blew in through the passage was bitterly cold.
"Would your Majesties care to rest awhile, or shall we push on?" inquired the innkeeper, after he had inspected the sky.
"Let us go on by all means," my mother replied. "How far shall we have to travel to reach the Border?"
"Fully thirty miles," the man answered. "It is about twenty from here as the crow flies. There is a hut half-way in which we can spend the night. If we are to reach it before dark, however, we must step out."
We accordingly rose and prepared for our long tramp. It was a terrible undertaking for most of our party. My mother and her maid were by no means strong; my father had lived a recluse's life for so many years that he was ill-fitted for so much exertion; Max and I were children, while Gabriel was a man who had led a decidedly easy life, and was by no means accustomed to outdoor exercise. Our minds having been made up for us by our mother, we left the passage and set out. The mountains, covered with their white mantle, looked very beautiful, but the silence was awesome in the extreme. Not a sound save the crunching of the snow under our feet fell upon the ear. All things considered, it was far from being a joyous procession. The remembrance of what we had before us, and the recollection of what we had already passed through, weighed upon us like lead. As a matter of fact, we had not proceeded more than a mile before I was quite exhausted. Seeing this, the innkeeper waited until I approached him, then took me up and carried me, sometimes in his arms, sometimes on his shoulder, for the remainder of the journey.
The sun had fallen and day was drawing to its close when we saw ahead of us the hut in which we were destined to spend the night. It was a tiny place, built of wood, and of the roughest possible description. Poor as it was, however, our hearts were gladdened by the sight of it, and on its appearance the others unconsciously hastened their steps. With the approach of night the cold had increased a hundredfold, and a heavy fall of snow seemed imminent. My mother and her maid could scarcely draw their feet along, and the remainder of our party were in almost as bad a case. For my own part, I believe I must have fallen asleep in our guide's arms, for I have but the faintest recollection of what occurred during the latter portion of the march. But we reached the hut at last, and, for the time being at least, were able to consider our troubles at an end. In such a place we were scarcely likely to be disturbed. Unfastening the door of the hut, the man threw it open and invited us to enter.
I am often tempted to wonder whether in the history of the Nineteenth Century, when it comes to be written, it will be possible to find a parallel in the record of any single royal family for that strange evening's lodgings. For my own part, I know that whenever my mother's description of it occurs to me, I am compelled to a feeling of wonderment that she should not only be able to recall it with so much equanimity, but that she should have come through it at all. As I have said, dusk had fallen before we reached the hut.