“Well, Child,” said the King indulgently, “if you desire that so much, sing on. It will take but a few moments to lull me into as deep a sleep as any here in the Hall!” He settled himself comfortably in a high armchair, stretched out, and rested his feet on a footstool made in such a shape as to fit the chair, making it almost like a couch. Ruth sang again, this time the song she loved most dearly.-- “The forget-me-nots in the meadow Reflect the sky’s own blue, As they lift their tiny blossoms To catch the falling dew. The Blue Bird flies o’er the meadow; Through the calm his note is heard. Lo, the throbbing heart of Nature Is in tune with the song of a bird.” The deep, heavy snores rose in a chorus around her as the song ceased, and this time the Bronze King slept even more soundly than Ruth had dared to hope possible. She rose cautiously, tiptoed her way across the great hall, and slowly pushed the heavy folding doors apart, then as silently closed them behind her. Like the wind she sped along the narrow passageway that led to her own apartments, opened the door, and flew to the long casement window that gave access to the Palace Garden, where she knew David awaited her. She stepped out into the night. A gust of wind blew the window to behind her with a crash that shattered the glass into a thousand fragments. Her heart sank. “David, David!” she called softly. There was no answer. It was dark--so dark that she could see nothing--and she feared lest the sound of the crashing glass had awakened the sleepers. She gave a low, clear whistle. In an instant, before there was time for an answer, David was at her side. “Come!” she said. “There is no time to be lost: the sleepers are waking.” As she spoke, they heard the sound of hurrying feet in the passageway. The door of the apartment was pushed open, and her name was eagerly called. “She is not here, Sire,” said a trembling voice. “And the window is shattered. She must have tried to escape. Spread the alarm throughout the Palace!” David and Ruth fled hand in hand through the darkness, out into the Palace Garden, surrounded by its high, solid brick walls. [Illustration: “THIS WAY, RUTH, THIS WAY,” WHISPERED DAVID] CHAPTER XII THE RESCUE “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.