"It was," replied Ryanne laconically. He did not know this man Ackermann; he had never heard of him; but he recognized a born leader of men when he saw him. Gray-haired, lean, bearded, sharp of word, quick of action, rude; he saw in this carpet-hunter the same indomitable qualities of the ivory-seeker. "You did not stop at Bagdad?" he asked, after the swift inventory.
"No. I came direct. I always do," grimly. "Better turn in and sleep; we'll be on the way at dawn, sharp."
"Sleep?" Ryanne laughed.
"Sleep?" echoed George.
Fortune shook her head.
"Well, an hour to let the reaction wear away," said Ackermann. "But you've got to sleep. I'm boss now, and you won't find me an easy one," with a humorous glance at the girl.
"We are all very happy to be bossed by you," she said.
"Twenty days," Ackermann mused. "You're a plucky young woman. No hysterics?"
"Not even a sigh of discontent," put in George. "If it hadn't been for her pluck, we'd have gone to pieces just from worry. Are you Henry Ackermann, of the Oriental Company in Smyrna?"