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 gratitude 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
passive 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