“Catch her!” I panted.  “Hold her!  Don’t let her go!”

“Never fear!” he laughed.

“Her men have kidnapped Gloria!  Tie her hands!”

Will had two men with him, one of whom was leading my runaway horse.  They gazed open-eyed while Will tied Maga’s wrists behind her back.

“Kagig—­what will he say?” one of them objected, but Will laughed.

“What you do with me?” demanded Maga.

“Take you to Kagig, of course.  Where’s Miss Vanderman?”

Then suddenly Maga’s whole appearance changed.  The defiance vanished, leaving her as if by magic supple again, subtle, suppliant, conjuring back to memory the nights when she had danced and sung.  The fire departed from her eyes and they became wet jewels of humility with soft love lights glowing in their depths.

“You do not want that woman!” she said slowly, smiling at Will.  “You give ’er to this fool!” She glanced at my bleeding ribs, as if the blood were evidence of folly.  “You take me, Will Yerkees!  Then I teach you all things—­all about people—­all about land, and love, and animals, and water, and the air—­I teach you all!”

She paused a moment, watching his face, judging the effect of words.  He stood waiting with a look of puzzled distress that betrayed regret for her tied wrists, but accepted the necessity.  Perhaps she mistook the chivalrous distress for tenderness.

“I ’ave tried to make that man Kagig king!  I ’ave tried, and tried!  But ’e is no good!  If ’e ’ad obeyed me, I would ’ave made ’im king of all Armenia!  But ’e is as good as dead already, because Mahmoud the Turk is come to finish ’im—­so!” She spat conclusively.  “So now I make you king instead of ’im!  You let that Gloria Vanderman go to this fool, an’ I show you ’ow to make all Armenians follow you an’ overthrow the Turks, an’ conquer, an’ you be king!”

Will laughed.  “Better stick to Kagig!  I’m going to take you to him!”

“You take me to ’im?”

She flashed again, swift as a snake to illustrate resentment.

“Yes.”

“Then I tell ‘im things about you, an’ ’e believe me!”

“Let’s bargain,” laughed Will.  “Show me Miss Vanderman, alive and well, and—­”

“Steady the Buffs!” I warned him.  “Gloria’s not far away.  There were pebbles dropped on my horse.  There may be a cave above this cliff—­or something of the sort.”

Will nodded. “—­and I won’t tell Kagig you made love to me!” he continued.

“Poof!  Pah!  Kagig, ’e know that long ago!”

Will turned to his two men and bade them tie the horses to a bush.

“How are the ribs?” he asked me.

“Nothing serious,” said I.

“Do you think you can watch her if I tie her feet?”

“She’s slippery and strong!  Better tie her to a tree as well!”

So between them Will and the two men trussed her up like a chicken ready for the market, making her bound ankles fast to the roots of a bush.  Then he led the two men up the cliff-side, and Maga lay glaring at me as if she hoped hate could set me on fire, while I made shift to stanch my wound.