Then prayed he for the state, that it should wean
Well-tutored counselors to do their part
Full profit and prosperity to glean
With dignity, although with contrite heart
And wisdom that Tradition wisdom ranks,
That church and state might stand and men give thanks.

Last prayed he for the soldier—­longest, too,
That all the honor and the aims of war
Subserving him might carry wrath and rue
Unto repentance, and in trembling awe
The enemy at length should fault confess
And yield, to crave a peace of righteousness.

Behind them stood a patriot unbowed,
Not arrogant in gilt or goodly cloth,
Nor mincing meek, and yet not poorly proud;
With eyes afire that glittered not with wrath;
Aware of evil hours, and undismayed
Because he loved too well.  He also prayed.

“Oh, Thou, who gavest, may I also give,
Withholding not—­accepting no reward;
For I die gladly if the least ones live. 
Twice righteous and two-edged be the sword,
’Neath freedom’s banner drawn to prove Thy word
And smite me if I’m false!” His prayer was heard.

The remainder of that night was nightmare pure and simple—­mules and horses squealing in instinctive fear of action they felt impending —­gipsies and Armenians dragging packs out on the floor, to repack everything a dozen times for some utterly godless reason—­Rustum Khan seizing each fugitive Armenian in turn to question him, alternating fierce threats with persuasion—­Kagig striding up and down with hands behind him and his scraggly black beard pressed down on his chest —­and the great fire blazing with reports like cannon shots as one of the Turk’s sons piled on fuel and the resinous wet wood caught.

The Turk and his other six sons ran away and hid themselves as a precaution against our taking vengeance on them.  With situations reversed a Turk would have taken unbelievable toll in blood and agony from any Armenian he could find, and they reasoned we were probably no better than themselves.  The marvel was that they left one son to wait on us, and take the money for room and horse-feed.

“Remember!” warned Monty, as we four sidled close together with our backs against the wall.  “Until we’re in actual personal danger this trouble is the affair of Kagig and his men!”

“I get you.  If we horn in before we have to we’ll do more harm than good.  Give the Turks an excuse to call us outlaws and shoot instead of rescue us.  Sure.  But what about Miss Vanderman?” said Will.

“I foresee she’s doomed!” Fred stared straight in front of him.  “It looks as if we’ll lose our little Willy too!  One woman at a time, especially when the lady totes a mother-o’-pearl revolver and about a dozen knives!  If you come out of this alive, Bill, you’ll be wiser!”

“Fond of bull, aren’t you!  You’d jest on an ant-heap.”

“There’s nothing to discuss,” said I.  “If there’s a lady in danger somewhere ahead, we all know what we’re going to do about it.”