“THIS way, Ruth, this way!” whispered David. “My faithful Horse is waiting for us.”
It was so dark that Ruth could only stumble blindly on. Once she almost fell; had it not been for David’s strong arm she surely would have fallen. He called in a low voice, hoping for response from the Wingèd Horse. But no sound could they hear, nor, in the black darkness that surrounded them, could they tell in which direction they were going. They groped onward, blindly but cautiously, feeling their way.
A sound of much confusion rose within the Palace behind them. Every now and then the King’s voice could be distinctly heard above the turmoil. When he spoke in authority his voice sounded like the angry roar of a great fire.
Suddenly a streak of light fell across the path in front of them, as someone opened a heavy door giving access to the Garden from another quarter of the Palace than that through which Ruth had entered. The Bronze King himself, alone and unattended, stepped out into the gravel path. He carried a large torch that flamed above his head. The lurid light fell upon his hard bronze face, showing it distorted and drawn with rage.
“She shall never escape me,” he muttered to himself, but loudly enough for both David and Ruth to hear distinctly the words, “I will kill her first.”
What followed happened far more quickly than it takes to tell it. As he spoke he lifted the torch high and rushed furiously forward. Before there was a chance to retreat, he came face to face with Ruth! The King was so thoroughly surprised at this unexpected meeting that he failed to notice David. The full glare of the burning torch fell blindingly upon Ruth’s pale and frightened face.
“So!” cried the King, “here you are, are you? I have found you myself, have I? Well, come with me.”
He caught Ruth’s wrist in his great rough burning hand. They could both feel his hot breath as he spoke, and it seemed to fill the air with fumes like those of sulphur.
“Take your hands off her!” commanded David—and his voice was that of a man.