CHAPTER XXIX

.*

*ATTACKED IN THE DARK.*

Presently Malto uttered an exclamation of surprise. He walked a short distance up the little watercourse and examined carefully some bushes growing on its banks. They seemed to excite both interest and pleasure.

'I know those plants,' he explained to his companions. 'They will provide us with a very fair and toothsome supper, and they also tell me a story. You wished to know where we had drifted to, and I can now tell you almost exactly.

'This is not the Great Desert--fortunately, we have not travelled far enough to reach that--but a tract lying upon its borders. We are in a region situated between the desert and the country of Iraynia, which,' he added slowly, and with some sadness in his tone, 'is my native land.'

'Oh!' said Alondra; 'so you are a native of Iraynia! I have heard a good deal about that country, though I have never been there. Was there not some great fuss or trouble there some years ago, before my father'----

'Before King Ivanta allowed the tyrant Agrando to annex it, would you say? Yes, Prince, there was. And thereby hangs a tale. I will not tell it to you now, however--it will keep for another time; but I may say that it is a tale of terrible, almost incredible wrong, and treachery, and wickedness. It is that great wrong which I wished to induce King Ivanta to inquire into, in order that the memory of a good man's name may be cleared from dishonour. That man was my father, Prince; and that was the reward I was hoping to win from King Ivanta. Now you will understand why I said I could not share my reward, if I obtained what I hoped for, with any one else!'

There were notes of deep feeling and sadness in the young fellow's voice as he spoke in low, incisive tones, turning his face away the while as though afraid he might break down.

There was a pause; then Alondra said gently and sympathetically, 'I am sorry, indeed, that you have such a heavy trouble to bear. Later on you shall give me fuller particulars, and I will myself lay them before my father. He is just and fearless in punishing where wrong has been done, and if he finds, on investigation, that your story is true, I am certain he will right you, and the memory of your father, and punish the wrongdoers.'

'He will have to fight to maintain his own position ere that can come about, I fear!' rejoined Malto gravely. 'But I thank you, Prince, all the same, for your sympathy and your promise. Another day I will, as you say, give you the details--when the time comes. Let me now explain how we are situated here. We are in a desolate territory known as Kubandia. It is nothing but a maze of arid rocks and mountains, and wild, gloomy gorges and valleys, almost waterless, but not so bad, in that respect, as the Great Desert which lies beyond. For the reasons I have mentioned the tract has a bad name, and also for another--that there are bands of reckless outlaws who have made it their fastness. They are, I believe, for the most part remnants or descendants of men who were originally honest patriots--men who were driven into exile by Agrando's heavy hand when he took over the government of the country. Now, I fear, they are, most of them, no better than brigands and unscrupulous adventurers. It is said that there are many bands, under different heads, but all directed by one leader--a clever, daring chief, of whom wild tales are told. His name is Fumenta; and it is a name held in terror by Agrando's followers. But for this man's wonderful genius and bravery, it is believed these brigands would all have been exterminated before this. He has, somehow, managed to evade capture for many years, and carry on a guerilla warfare, holding his own in these wild valleys and gorges in spite of all the forces Agrando has sent against him. Such, at least, is what we hear. I myself can say nothing as to this part from my own knowledge, because I have been brought up in Agrando's city and forced to be one of his servitors.'

'Naturally, however, you cannot help feeling a certain amount of sympathy for these outlaws, who are your own countrymen, and who have been driven, as you think, perhaps unjustly, into exile, eh?' queried Alondra, eying the other keenly.

'It may be so--deep down in my mind,' was the quiet answer. 'Certainly, however, I have no sympathy with tales of robbery and murder such as are related of these bands. But, of course, they may not be true, or they may be very much exaggerated. We only hear one side, that told by Agrando's people; and from my own experience I can tell you that it is not safe to believe all they assert.'

'But how do you know where we are, if, as you say, you only know of all these things by hearsay?' was Alondra's shrewd query.

'Oh, I have been in these parts before as a boy, and I know that those plants yonder are peculiar to this region. You do not find them anywhere else.'

'I see. Well, if they are good to eat, let us try them as soon as we can. For my part, I am hungry enough to devour anything that is fairly eatable.'

'We must have a fire. It is the root which is good to eat; and it requires cooking,' Malto returned. 'I have dug these roots up and cooked them many times when picnicking out here with other youngsters. If you others will get some wood together, and start a fire, I will soon have a first-rate supper ready for you.'

The young fellow proved as good as his word, and some half-hour later, just as darkness fell, they were all sitting round a cheerful fire, discussing a very agreeable meal off something which had a flavour not unlike baked potatoes.

'Humph! Not a bad thing to fall back upon in a wilderness like this!' Jack declared. 'And what are we going to do afterwards? How are we to get back to our friends?'

'That is not easy to say,' Malto answered soberly. 'We must have passed right over my country to get here, and that alone means two or three hundred miles. It is a land which is full of Agrando's followers, and you may be sure that his airships will, by this time, be cruising about in search of us.'

'That sounds cheerful! Looks as if we shall have to stay here and do a bit of outlaw business on our own account!' cried Jack.

Malandris glanced at him with a very grave expression in his eyes. 'Your remark exactly describes the position, young sir, though spoken, doubtless, half in jest. I am sorry to have to say it, for it is not a trifling matter. For myself, I accept it as preferable to the fate from which you all so pluckily aided to rescue me. But it grieves me that I should live to see the son of the good and wise King Ivanta in the position of a hunted fugitive!'

Alondra started and flushed up at these plain words. But there was in the elder man's eyes a look so thoroughly honest and kindly that it was impossible to take offence.

'Perhaps such an experience will do me no harm,' he answered, after a minute's thought. 'That is, provided it ends in the right way. It is better than passing the time in Agrando's palace as his captive. My father is sure to rescue us in his own good time. He will follow us up and find us out, wherever we are, and the punishment he will inflict on his daring enemies will be terrible. Does Agrando hug to himself the notion that he can pit himself against his overlord?' Alondra continued, with a proud curl of his lip. 'Why, where is his fleet? What means has he of resisting my father's power?'

'He has been making secret preparations ever since his return from his trip to the evening star. I feel sure of that!' Malto declared.

'Why don't you try a wireless message?' Jack asked of Alondra.

The young prince shook his head. 'It is useless. The little instrument you saw does not carry far enough,' he explained. 'Monck Affelda cannot hear me unless he is within a hundred miles. But you may be sure of one thing, the news of all that has happened has before this been flashed through to my father, and he is already on his way to our assistance in the _Ivenia_. How can Agrando think he can prevail in the end against such a monster of the skies as the _Ivenia_?'

As he spoke these words there was a sudden illumination of the spot where they were sitting round their fire, and the sound of voices was heard. Lights were flashed upon them from the air above, dazzling their eyes and rendering it impossible to make out what had happened or who the speakers were. But the words were unmistakable; some one had called out in harsh, hoarse tones, 'Surrender! You are my prisoners! If you make any attempt at resistance you are all dead men!'

*