“Listen, Kagig!” Monty drew us all together with a gesture of both hands.  “These Turks are too many for us, if we give them time.  Our ammunition won’t last, for one thing.  We must induce Mahmoud to attack to-night—­coax him up this castle road, and catch him in a trap.  It can be done.  It must be done!”

“I know the right man to send to the Turk to tell him things!” Kagig answered slowly with relish.

“That is my business!” growled Rustum Khan, but Kagig laughed at him.

“No Turk would believe a word you say—­not one leetle word!” he said, snapping his fingers.  “You are a good fighter.  I saw your charge from the castle tower; it was very good.  But I will send an Armenian on this errand.  Go on, Lord Monty; I know the proper man.”

“That’s about the long and short of it,” said Monty.  “If we can induce Mahmoud to attack to-night, we’ve a fair chance of hitting him so hard that he’ll withdraw and let us alone.  Otherwise—­”

Kagig’s finger-joints cracked harder than ever as his quick mind reviewed the possibilities.

“Have you any idea what can have happened to Miss Vanderman?” I asked him.

“Miss Vanderman?  No?  What?  Tell me!”

He seemed astonished, and I told him slowly, lest he miss one grain of the enormity of Maga’s crime.  But instead of appearing distressed he shook his bands delightedly and rattled off a very volley of cracking knuckles.

“That is the idea!  We have Mahmoud caught!  I know Mahmoud!  I know him!  The man I shall choose shall tell Mahmoud that Gloria Vanderman —­the beautiful American young lady, who is outlawed because of her fighting on behalf of Armenians—­who—­who could not possibly be claimed by the American consul, on account of being outlawed—­is in the castle to-night and can be taken if he only will act quickly!  Oh, how his eyes will glitter!  That Mahmoud—­he buys women all the time!  A young—­beautiful—­athletic American girl—­Mahmoud will sacrifice three thousand men to capture her!”

Monty ground his teeth.  Fred turned his back, and filled his pipe.  Rustum Khan brushed his black beard upward with both hands.

“Suppose you go now and try to find Miss Vanderman,” said Monty rather grimly to me.  “If you find her, hide her out of harm’s way and communicate with Will!”

So Fred helped me on the horse and I rode back to the castle, where I explained the details of the fighting below to the defenders, and then rode on down to Zeitoon by the other road.  It was wearing along into the afternoon, and I had no idea which way to take to look for Gloria; but I did have a notion that Maga Jhaere might be looking out for me.  There was a chance that she might have been in earnest in persuading me to elope, and that if I rode alone she might show herself—­she or else Gloria’s captors.

Failing signs of Maga Jhaere or her men, I proposed to ride behind Beirut Dagh in search of Will, and to get his quick Yankee wit employed on the situation.