So, instead of crossing the bridge into Zeitoon I guided my horse around the base of the mountain, riding slowly so as to ease the pain in my foot and to give plenty of opportunity to any one lying in wait to waylay me.

It happened I guessed rightly.  The track swung sharp to the left after a while, and passed up-hill through a gorge between two cliffs into wilder country than any I had yet seen in Armenia.  From the top of the cliff on the right-hand side a pebble was dropped and struck the horse—­then another—­then a third one.  I thought it best to take no notice of that, although the horse made fuss enough.

The third pebble was followed by a shrill whistle, which I also decided to ignore, and continued to ride on toward where a clump of scrawny bushes marked the opening out of a narrow valley.  I heard the bushes rustle as I drew near them, and was not surprised to see Maga emerge, looking hot, impatient and angry, although not less beautiful on that account.

“Fool!” she began on me.  “Why you wait so long?  Another half-hour and it is too late altogether!  Come now!  Leave the horse.  Come quick!”

Wondering what important difference half an hour should make, it occurred to me that Will was probably impatient long ago at receiving no news of Gloria.  If I judged Will rightly, he would be on his way to look for her.

“Come quick!” commanded Maga.

“I can’t climb that cliff,” said I.  “I’ve hurt my foot.”

“I help you.  Come!”

She stepped up close beside me to help me down, but that instant it seemed to me that I heard more than one horse approaching.

“Quick!” she commanded, for she heard them, too, and held out her arms to help me.  “Quick!  I have two men to help you walk!”

I could have reached my pistol, but so could she have reached hers, and her hand and eye were quicker than forked lightning.  Besides, to shoot her would have been of doubtful benefit until Gloria’s whereabouts were first ascertained.  She put an arm round me to pull me from the saddle, and that settled it.  I fell on her with all my weight, throwing her backward into the bushes, and kicking the horse in the ribs with my uninjured foot.  The horse took fright as I intended, and went galloping off in the direction of the approaching sounds.

I had not wrestled since I was a boy at school, and then never with such a spitting puzzle of live wires as Maga proved herself.  I had the advantage of weight, but I had told her of my injured foot, and she worked like a she-devil to damage it further, fighting at the same time with left and right wrist alternately to reach pistol and knife.

I let go one wrist, snatched the pistol out of her bosom and threw it far away.  But with the free and she reached her knife, and landed with it into my ribs.  The pain of the stab sickened me; but the knowledge that she had landed fooled her into relaxing her hold in order to jump clear.  So I got hold of both wrists again, and we rolled over and over among the bushes, she trying like an eel to wriggle away, and I doing my utmost to crush the strength out of her.  We were interrupted by Will’s voice, and by Will’s strong arms dragging us apart.