"Voices," said the girl, "and footsteps. But I hear no more. They are moving stealthily."
"Is it more Turks, coming from in front?"
"God knows, but I think not."
She led the mule some distance to the side of the road into a clump of green oleander. Curtis slid to the ground and looked carefully to his rifle.
"Panayota," he whispered, hurriedly, "they shall not take us while I live. I love you. We may have but a few moments together. Let me take one kiss, the first, perhaps the last."
He put his arm about her, but she placed her hand against his breast and pushed him from her, with a cautious "hist!"
The footsteps of many men could be heard plainly, not far up the road now.
"If they would only speak," she muttered.
The words were hardly out of her mouth ere some one uttered a sharp and hurried command in a suppressed tone.
"They are Greeks!" exclaimed the girl. "Now Christ and the Virgin—"