CHAPTER XXII
THE AMBUSH
Interminably they waited, listening for the sound of galloping horses. Curtis' extreme tension passed away, and the situation suddenly assumed an unreal aspect in his thoughts. His knees began to feel bruised on the hard floor. He was strongly tempted to rise up and ease them.
"Pshaw!" he said to Lindbohm, "I don't believe they're coming, after all. I guess I'll go out and take a look."
"Keep still!" replied the Swede. "Don't you stir on your life, and don't you speak a word aloud," and a moment after he added more pleasantly:
"They may send scouts on foot."
Panayota had fallen asleep. They could hear her deep but troubled breathing, as her frame continued to vibrate with the sorrow that for the moment she had mercifully forgotten.
"Michali was burned alive," said Curtis, in a low tone, after another stretch of waiting, during which his knees had become the most important portions of his entire anatomy.
"I tried to save him, but Kostakes—"
Lindbohm seized him impatiently by the arm and whispered:
"Tst, be quiet, can't you? Do you want to spoil the whole thing? No, we rescued Michali."