“The gipsy brought it.  A whole division of the Turkish regular army is on the march.  Their rear-guard camps to-night a day’s march this side of Tarsus.  Dawn will find the main body within sight of us.  Half a brigade has hurried forward to reenforce the men we have just beaten.  Are there any orders?”

Fred’s face fell, and my heart dropped into my boots.  A division is a horde of men to stand against.

“No,” said Monty.  “No orders yet.”

“Then I will sleep again,” said Rustum Khan, and suited action to the word, laying his head on the same folded goat-skin he had used before and breathing deeply within the minute.

Nobody spoke.  Rustum Khan’s first deep snore had not yet announced his comment on the situation, and we all stood waiting for Kagig to say something.  But it was Peter Measel who spoke first.

“I will pray,” he announced.  “I saw that gipsy whispering to the Indian, and I know there is treachery intended!  O Lord—­O righteous Lord—­forgive these people for their bloody and impudent plans!  Forgive them for plotting to shed blood!  Forgive them for arrogance, for ambition, for taking Thy name in vain, for drinking strong drink, for swearing, for vanity, and for all their other sins.  Forgive above all the young woman of the party, who is not satisfied with a wound already but looks forward with unwomanly zest to further fighting!  Forgive them for boasting and—­”

“Throw that fool out!” barked Kagig suddenly.

“O Lord forgive—­”

Fred was nearest the door, and opened it.  Maga laughed aloud.  I was nearest to Peter Measel, so it was I who took him by the neck and thrust him into outer darkness.  Kagig kicked the door shut after him; but even so we heard him for several minutes grinding out condemnatory prayers.

“Now sleep, sportmen all!” said Kagig, blessing us with both hands.  “Sleep against the sport to-morrow!”

Chapter Seventeen “I knew what to expect of the women!”

“And Delilah said—­”

Always at fault is the fellow betrayed
(Majorities murder to prove it!)
As Samson discovered, Delilah lies,
The stigma’s stuck on by the cynical wise,
And nothing can ever remove it. 
We’ll cast out Delilah and spit on her dead,
(That revenge is remarkably human),
And pity the victim of underhand tricks
So be that it’s moral (the sexes don’t mix);
But, oh, think what the cynical wise would have said
If Judas were only a woman!

We slept until Monty called us, two hours before dawn, although I was conscious most of the night of stealthy men and women who stepped over me to get at Kagig and whisper to him.  His marvelous spy system was working full blast, and he seemed to run no risks by letting the spies report to any one but himself.  Fred, who slept more lightly than I did, told me afterward that the women principally brought him particulars of the workings of local politics; the men detailed news of the oncoming concrete enemy.