Most of the men sleeping on the floor had awoke at the noise and were sitting up. Nicholas took a chair and began sipping his coffee.
"Little Mitsos," he said, aloud, "I do not know what the others may have told you has happened, but I will tell you what I saw. I saw a body of men, who knew nothing of war, stand steady under a heavy fire because they were told to stand. I saw them go on under it when there was room to move, but not one did I see do aught else until I had to set the example, and told them to run."
Mitsos grew rather red in the face.
"The cavalry charged on them, and from behind the fortifications came a hail of bullets. And I never desire," he said, striking the table a great thump, "nor would it be possible, to command braver men."
Mitsos held out his hand to the man nearest him.
"Christos, shake hands or knock me down," he said. "I eat my words as one eats figs in autumn—one gulp."
"What have you been saying, little Mitsos?" asked Nicholas.
"I said they were cowards to run away. Oh, but I am very sorry! They are bad words I am eating."
"Well, let there be no mistake, Mitsos," said Nicholas; "down they go!"
Christos, a huge, broad-shouldered country Greek, looked up at Mitsos, grinning.