“There were fifteen on their way to Zeitoon.  One survived, and reached Zeitoon, and told.  Then he died, and we rode down to avenge them all.  The Turks took the three men and beat them on the feet with sticks until the soles of their feet swelled up and burst.  Then they made them walk on their tortured feet.  Then they beat them to death.  Shall I say what they did to the women?”

“What did you do to the Turks?” said I.

“Hanged them.  We are not animals—­we simply, hanged them.”

Somewhere about noon we rode down a gorge into the village of El Oghlu.  It was a miserable place, with a miserable, tiny kahveh in the midst of it, and Kagig set that alight before our end of the column came within a quarter of a mile of it.  We burned the rest of the village, for he sent back Ephraim to order no shelter left for the regiments that would surely come and hunt us down.  But the business took time, and we were farther than ever behind Kagig when the last wooden roof began to cockle and crack in the heat.

Will and Gloria were somewhere on in front, and Fred and I began to put on speed to try to overtake them.  But from the time of leaving the burned village of El Oghlu there began to be a new impediment.

“We are not taking the shortest way,” said Ephraim.  “The shortest way is too narrow—­good for one or two men in a hurry, but not for all of us.”

We were gaining no speed by taking the easier road.  There began to be vultures in evidence, mostly half-gorged, flopping about from one orgy to the next.  And out from among the rocks and bushes there came fugitive Armenians—­famished and wounded men and women, clinging to our stirrups and begging for a lift on the way to Zeitoon.  Zeitoon was their one hope.  They were all headed that way.

Fred detached a dozen mounted men to linger behind on guard against pursuit, and the rest of us overloaded our horses with women and children, giving up all hope of overtaking Gloria and Will, forgetting that they had come first on the scene.  In my mind I imagined them riding side by side, Will with his easy cowboy seat, and Gloria looking like a boy except for the chestnut hair.  But that imagination went the way of other vanities.

There was neither pleasure nor advantage in striding slowly beside my laboring horse, nor any hope of mounting him again myself.  So I walked ahead and, being now horseless, ceased to be mobbed by fugitives.  At the end of an hour I overtook two horses loaded with little children; but there was no sign of Gloria and Will, and losing zest for the pursuit as the sun grew stronger I sat down by the ways-side on a fallen tree.

It was then that I heard voices that I recognized.  The first was a woman’s.

“I’m simply crazy to know him.”

A man’s, that I could not mistake even amid the roar of a city, answered her.

“You’ve a treat in store.  Monty is my idea of a regular he-man.”