"We have friends inside," replied Lindbohm, "and we wish to find out whether they are safe or not. We wish to go in."
"Very sorry, gentlemen, but we 'ave strict horders to admit no one for the present."
"But we two are not Turks—nor Cretans. I am a Swede, and my friend here is an American."
"Very sorry, gentlemen——"
"But this may be a matter of life and death! A Christian lady, the betrothed of this young gentleman, is in the hands of the Turks——"
"Very sorry, gentlemen. Move away from the gate, please."
Lindbohm was too good a soldier not to know what that meant. So they went to a house near by, belonging to a friend of the Major, and waited two whole days, during the most of which time the Swede and the American had the place to themselves, for the Major and his friend were arrested and carried off before the end of the first day. They went repeatedly to the gate, demanding admittance, and were refused as often by the sentinels, until the third morning, when they were greeted with a smile and a "Hit's hall right now, gentlemen; you may henter—'im givin' hup 'is sword, which will be restored to 'im at 'eadquarters."
Lindbohm raised his hand in military salute to his red bandanna and passed under the ancient archway. Curtis handed over the simitar and followed.
"D'yever see two such guys?" asked one red jacket of the other. "Never'n me loife. But the tall one's a soldier, all right. D'ye see 'im s'loot?"