d to eat from my hand in the village. He must have
followed all this time."

"Do see if it is the same dog, Prince," Beechy cried to the tall, dark
figure completing the tail of our procession.

A yelp answered. "Yes, it is he," called the Prince. "A mangy little
mongrel. I do not think he will trouble us any longer."

Then a surprising thing happened. The Vestal Virgin rose suddenly in the
car. "You have _kicked_ him!" she exclaimed, the gentleness burnt out of
her pretty voice by a swift flame of anger. "Stop the car, Mr.
Barrymore--quickly, please. I want to get down."

Never had that Panhard of Terry's checked its career in less space. Out
jumped Maida, to my astonishment without a word of objection from her
relatives. "I will not have that poor, timid little creature frightened
and hurt," I heard her protesting as she ran back. "How _could_ you,
Prince!"

Now, though the girl was probably no more than a paid companion, she was
lovely enough to make her good opinion of importance to the most
inveterate fortune hunter, and as Miss Destrey called, "Here, doggie,
doggie," in a voice to beguile a rhinoceros, Dalmar-Kalm pleaded that
what he had done had been but for the animal's good. He had not injured
the dog, he had merely encouraged it to run home before it was
hopelessly lost. "I am not cruel, I assure you. My worst troubles have
come from a warm heart. I hope you will believe me, Miss Destrey."

"I should be sorry to be your dog, or--your chauffeur," she answered.
"He won't come back to be comforted, so I suppose after all we shall
have to go on. But I shall dream of that poor little lonely, drifting
thing to-night."

Hardly had she taken her seat, however, than there was the dog close to
the car, timid, obsequious, winning, with his wisp of a head cocked on
one side. We drove on, and he followed pertinaciously. Mildly adjured by
the Countess to "go home, little dog," he came on the faster. Many
adventures he had, such as a fall over a heap of stones and entanglement
in a thorn-bush. But nothing discouraged the miniature motor maniac in
the pursuit of his love, and we began to take him for granted so
completely that after a while I, at least, forgot him. On we toiled with
our burden, the moon showering silver into the dark mountain gorges, as
if it were raining stars.

The further we burrowed into the fastnesses of the Roya, the more wild
in its majestic beauty grew the valley, so famed in history and leg