“And oblige me by leaving that lady alone with us!” Fred continued.  “Let those dames fall away!”

Somebody said something to the women.  Another Armenian remarked more or less casually that we should be unable to escape from the room in any case.  The others rolled the great stone from the trap and shoved the smaller stones aside, and then they all filed down the stone stairs, leaving us alone—­although by the trembling blankets it was easy to tell that the women had not gone far.  The last man who went below handed the spluttering torch to Miss Vanderman, as if she might need it to defend herself, and she stood there shaking it to try and make it smoke less until the planks were back in place.  She was totally unconscious of it, but with the torch-light gleaming on her hair and reflected in her blue eyes she looked like the spirit of old romance come forth to start a holy war.

“Now please explain!” she begged, when I had pushed the last stone in place.  “First, what kind of Americans can you possibly be?  Do you all use such extraordinary accents, and such expressions?”

“Don’t I talk American to beat the band?” objected Fred.  “Sit down on this rock a while, and I’ll convince you.”

She sat on the rock, and we gathered round her.  She was not more than twenty-two or three, but as perfectly assured and fearless as only a well-bred woman can be in the presence of unshaven men she does not know.  Fred would have continued the tomfoolery, but Will oared in.

“I’m Will Yerkes, Miss Vanderman.”

“Oh!”

“I know Nurse Vanderman at the mission.”

“Yes, she spoke of you.”

“Fred Oakes here is—­”

“Is English as they make them, yes, I know!  Why the amazing efforts to—­”

“I stand abashed, like the leopard with the spots unchangeable!” said Fred, and grinned most unashamedly.

“They’re both English.”

“Yes, I see, but why—­”

“It’s only as good Americans that we three could hope to enter here alive.  They’re death on all other sorts of non-Armenians now they’ve taken to the woods.  We supposed you were here, and of course we had to come and get you.”

She nodded.  “Of course.  But how did you know?”

“That’s a long story.  Tell us first why you’re here, and why you’re a prisoner.”

“I was going to the mission at Marash—­to stay a year there and help, before returning to the States.  They warned me in Tarsus that the trip might be dangerous, but I know how short-handed they are at Marash, and I wouldn’t listen.  Besides, they picked the best men they could find to bring me on the way, and I started.  I had a Turkish permit to travel—­a teskere they call it—­see, I have it here.  It was perfectly ridiculous to think of my not going.”

“Perfectly!” Fred agreed.  “Any young woman in your place would have come away!”

She laughed, and colored a trifle.  “Women and men are equals in the States, Mr. Oakes.”