The poor fellow was already half-dead with terror.  With the utmost obsequiousness he at once began unfastening his neck-cloth, whimpering at the same time something about his four little children:  what would become of them when they had nobody to care for them.

But his conductor intervened defiantly.

“Take yourself off, you drunken lout, you!  How dare you lay a hand upon my guest.  Know you not that he who harms the guest of a true believer is accursed?”

“Na, na, na!” laughed the Janissary mockingly, “are you mad, my worthy Balukji, that you bandy words with the flowers of the Prophet’s garden, with Begtash’s sons, the valiant Janissaries?  Get out of my way while you are still able to go away whole, for if you remain here much longer, I’ll teach you to be a little more obedient.”

“Let my guest go in peace, I say, and then go thine own way also!”

“Why, what ails you, worthy Mussulman?  Has anyone offended thee?  Mashallah! what business is it of thine if I choose to strike off the head of a dog?  You can pick up ten more like him in the street any time you like.”

The Turk, perceiving that it would be difficult to convince a drunken man by mere words, drew nearer to him, and grasped the hand that held the yataghan.

“What do you want?” cried the Janissary, fairly infuriated at this act of temerity.

“Come!  Go thy way!”

“Do you know whose hand thou art grasping?  My name is Halil.”

“Mine also is Halil.”

“Mine is Halil Pelivan—­Halil the Wrestler!”

“Mine is Halil Patrona.”

By this time the Janissary was beside himself with rage at so much opposition.

“Thou worm! thou crossed-leg, crouching huckster, thou pack-thread pedlar! if thou dost not let me go immediately, I will cut off thy hands, thy feet, thine ears, and thy nose, and then hang thee up.”

“And if thou leave not go of my guest, I will fell thee to the earth with this stick of mine.”

“What, thou wilt fell me?  Me?  A fellow like thou threaten to strike Halil Pelivan with a stick?  Strike away then, thou dog, thou dishonourable brute-beast, thou dregs of a Mussulman! strike away then, strike here, if thou have the courage!”

And with that he pointed at his own head, which he flung back defiantly as if daring his opponent to strike at it.

But Halil Patrona’s courage was quite equal even to such an invitation as that, and he brought down the leaded stick in his hand so heavily on the Janissary’s head that the fellow’s face was soon streaming with blood.