Embracing the boy and bidding farewell to the other friends, the Hermit took his staff and bag of simples, and wrapped his cloak about him. "I trust you, John," he said at the door. "Be patient, obedient, and wise." Then in the folds of his cloak he took the carrier pigeon. "I will send you word by our friend, if need be," he said, as he went out into the darkness.

Brutus and the messenger followed him closely. The door banged behind them, and John was alone with the circle of frightened, cowering creatures. He threw himself on his knees before the Hermit's table, and laying his head on the book, began to weep, he scarcely knew why.

XVIII

THE CARRIER PIGEON

A evening of the next day, just as John had finished his simple supper, he heard a scratching at the door. It was Brutus, returning footsore and weary. Tied to his collar John found a message from the Hermit.

"Be of good cheer," it read. "We mount excellent steeds to ride to the King. If by G.o.d's help I may save the young man's life, I will return to you speedily thereafter. If it be the Lord's will that other things befall, I will send the carrier pigeon with news. Bear a good heart, my son. Keep to your studies, your exercise, and your devotions as if I were with you. So when I return I shall find you a little stronger, wiser, a better champion of the good. Farewell!"

John read this letter eagerly, and set himself to obey the master's wishes. But now the days seemed long indeed. In spite of the many friends who shared the hut with him, John felt very lonely, and longed for the dear old man's return. But now he had something more to think of: the good King Cyril and the holy man, his friend, who had borne the name of John. And he longed to be some day a man like that.

The Hermit had been gone for nearly a week. One day John was sitting by the door of the hut, busy with his studies, when he heard a _whir_ in the air overhead. Glancing up, he saw the flash of snowy wings, and presently the carrier pigeon came fluttering down to his shoulder.

"Ah, my dear bird!" cried John, tenderly taking the creature in his hands and lifting it to peck at his lips as it always loved to do.

"You have come to me safely from far away. You have come from the place where my dear father is. Have you brought me word from him?"

With a soft coo the pigeon nestled closer in John's arms. Reaching under its wing, he found a scroll of writing tied there securely with a silken cord.

"A letter from my father!" he cried, untying it eagerly.

It was indeed a long letter in the good man's clear script. It told of their safe arrival, after a hard journey through the night; of their reception by the King. They had come almost too late. But when they arrived the Prince was still breathing. They were ushered into his chamber, where he lay white and still. No one could rouse him to life or consciousness. By his bedside sat the King, his face like a mountain-top wrapped in clouds.

"Save my son!" he had cried when he saw the Hermit. "Save my son, sorcerer, and I will give you whatever your heart craves."

"I am no sorcerer," the Hermit had answered. "I am G.o.d's servant, with some skill in healing, because I have studied the work of His hands and the uses of His gifts. If it be His will, I may save the young man.

If otherwise, we may not hope to prevail."

"Oh, he must not die!" cried the King. "You foretold it, I remember, in the forest. But think--he is my only son. He must be king after me. He must live!"

"Other sons have died," said the Hermit solemnly. "Other princes have not lived to reign. And what of them?"

The King shuddered. "Save my son!" he repeated. "Only save this boy, and I will do whatever you ask."

"Then" (said the Hermit's letter) "I did my best. I bathed the youth's wound with my healing balsam. I gave him soothing draughts to drink.

I sat by his bedside and prayed that the Lord's will might be done through me. And then came a change. A faint color blossomed in his cheeks. His lips trembled; his eyes opened and he looked at me. Then he sighed and closed his eyes. What he thought I know not. But he had paused in his march towards death. From that day he mended. The Prince's wound is now healed. The King's grat.i.tude knew no bounds. He promised me rewards beyond belief,--which, as you know, mean naught to me.

"But, John, a strange thing has befallen. The Prince should now be well upon the road to health. He should be gaining strength every day.

There seems no reason otherwise. But such happens not. He lies pa.s.sive and dazed. He seems not to care whether he lives or dies. He never speaks nor smiles, only looks sometimes at me as if he wanted to ask me something. The doctors say that he is slowly dying.

"And now, John," concluded the Hermit's letter, "now comes the reason for these long, tedious words to you. I have done my utmost, but I am powerless. Will you come? Will you try what your own skill and youth may do? It may be your mission in life to save this lad who tried to kill you. I know that if he could but once smile, he would get well.

Therein lies your power. Come, as quickly as you may. Bring with you our animal friends who cannot be left behind. Brutus will lead you to the village, and thence you must find your way to the Capital. And one word more: if you find yourself in trouble or need, show the silver talisman which you wear about your neck, and I think all will be well.

Remember my teachings, John, and come as soon as may be."

When John had finished the letter, he stood for a moment quite dazed.

He was to leave this place where all was peace and happiness, and go back among men whom he feared! He was to go to the very King whose name he shuddered to remember,--the King who had killed his brother and that holy man John with his little son! He was to do all this for the sake of the enemy who had hunted the bear, who had injured the gentle deer, who had aimed to take John's own life! He grew sick at the thought. Yet,--it was the Hermit himself who summoned him. And he remembered the good man's teachings.

"How I can help I know not," sighed John, "but I must go!" He laid his head upon the feathers of the carrier pigeon and shed some bitter tears. Then, placing the bird gently on the tree beside him, he straightened himself bravely. "I will go!" he said. "I will go joyfully, as one should who hopes to be worthy to bear the name of John."

Just then Brutus came sauntering from the hut, shaking himself lazily after his nap.

"Ho, Brutus!" called John, snapping his fingers. "Shall we go on a journey together, you and I? Shall we take these little friends on a wonderful pilgrimage? And will you be my guide, as you were once before, good Brutus?"

The dog seemed to understand. He p.r.i.c.ked up his ears, and leaped up to John's shoulders with a joyous bark. Then, rushing to the edge of the wood, he looked back, inviting John to follow.

"Oh, let us be off!" he seemed to say. "I have been longing to go to our dear master. Let us hasten, little brother!"

"Not so fast!" said John. "We have first to gather our provisions and make ready our company of pilgrims. I must take all the food I can.

For I dare not trust wholly to the silver Cross. What could my father mean by that?"

Still wondering, John set about his preparations. They did not take long. There was neither lock nor bolt on the door of the Hermit's hut, nor aught of value to hide. When John's basket was packed with simple food, and the animals were gathered about him outside in the little clearing, he rolled a stone against the door, and they were ready to go.

XIX

THE JOURNEY

A strange company they were, these citizens of the Animal Kingdom traveling to town! Foremost went Brutus, leading the way and feeling very important with a bundle bound upon his strong back. Gray and gaunt, the wolf trotted along at his side, like another dog. Next came John, with a knapsack on his shoulders, in which three little kittens slumbered beside the provisions for their journey; there were always new kittens in the Animal Kingdom. On his shoulder perched the raven, and by a rope he led the bear, whom he felt safer to have close by his side. Sometimes the bear trotted on all fours. Sometimes he walked upright like a big brown man, towering over John's head. Now before and now behind them went Blanche the cat, pretending as cats do that she was neither following nor leading, but traveling quite independently of them all. Frequently she disappeared into the bushes or up a tree, but soon came scampering past, when she would stop to make a hasty toilet. Overhead fluttered from tree to tree the carrier pigeon and the other birds, who were John's pets and bound to follow wherever he went.

The deer and her fawn went part way with them, and the little rabbits hopped a staccato accompaniment for some time. But John did not urge them to follow. He knew they were better off in the forest, where they could take care of themselves.

All day they fared on the uneven path by which, nose to earth, Brutus led them. And at last, weary and spent, they came to the little village where the Hermit had taken horse for the longer journey.

John paused at the first house in the village and knocked at the gate.

A burly fellow came to the door.

"h.e.l.lo!" he cried. Starting back when he saw the strange group gathered in his dooryard. "What means all this?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: A strange company.]

"If you please," said John politely, "we go upon a Journey to the King, and we seek shelter. Will you let us sleep in your stable, friend?"

"Sleep in my stable!" muttered the man, "a beggar with a band of outlaw animals! A wolf and a bear! No, indeed. I have too much respect for the safety of my cattle and for the King's laws."

He was about to shut the door in John's face. But the lad had a sudden thought. He would try at this first place the value of the Hermit's hint.

"Stay," he said, "one moment, friend." Fumbling in his breast, he drew out the silver medal which he wore about his neck. "I was to show this--" he began.

But he saw the man start, and, shading his lantern with his hands, peer more closely at the object. Then he stared at John's face with wonder.

"In G.o.d's name!" exclaimed the man, "who are you who travel with this strange company?"

John looked almost as surprised as he. "A poor pilgrim, on the King's errand," he said. "We ask only a corner of your stable with a bed of straw to lie on. Give us shelter, kind friend, and to-morrow speed us on our way."