His voice was drowned in a howl of execration, and a dozen furious hands laid hold on him at once.
"To the rescue!" cried Jack and Barkev together, dashing in amongst the throng.
"Keep quiet!" muttered a voice beside them, and a Turk they knew laid his hand on Barkev's shoulder. "Keep quiet and go home," he went on in a whisper; "my brothers have got the doctor, and will hide him in our house. He has attended us; we like him, and we will not let him be killed."
Somewhat comforted, the young men went home. As they passed through the streets, the Moslems greeted them with threats and insults.
"We will soon make an end of you, dogs of Giaours," they cried. Boys threw stones at them, and women screamed curses—foul and hideous Turkish curses—at the top of their shrill voices.
"I do not like the look of things at all," said Barkev, when they got into their own quarter.
"Nor I," Jack answered. "I think it would be no harm for some of us to keep watch to-night. I volunteer, for one." And he went apart to clean his precious revolver, and to load the two serviceable barrels. He had not dared to get it set in order; that would have been far too dangerous.
The night, so far as they knew, passed quietly away. Many Armenians had shops or booths, or other business to attend to outside their own Quarter, and this was the case with some members of the Vartonian family. On Monday morning the women prayed of them to stay at home, and, indeed, the greater number did so. But others thought it the part of wisdom, as well as of manly courage, to go about as usual. Barkev Vartonian was amongst these, and Jack went with him for company.
They had not gone far beyond the limits of their own Quarter when a boy ran against them, screaming with terror, and caught Jack by the zeboun.