“At noon we stopped. We ate and rested, and our soldiers sang and danced; and then we were off again. There were more impetuous watercourses of gravel and pebble. There were shepherds watching their goats, and red-haired women carrying burdens on their heads, and looking at us with wide-open mouths. We were near the spot.
“Imagine a wild gorge. It was the meeting of two ways, from the mountain and from the plain. Farther along was the river Drina, with its old bridge. That is the end of Morgania, which is protected by its mountains, with this defile, like Thermopylæ, as its only entrance. But, you will ask me, what about Helia?
“Patience!
“We had all got down, leaving the horses and wagons in the shade of the defile. I had a fixed idea that I would go to the middle of the frontier bridge, which belongs half to Christ and half to Mohammed, and that I would also visit the Roman ruin and the little Christian village farther on, which has a little belfry like a minaret.
“But as we drew near there were loud cries, and a headlong flight of peasants, their features distorted with fright as they ran past us. Then there was the fire and smoke of a fusillade, the tocsin sounding, and then more cries,—frightful cries,—the howling of hunted beasts, piercing the ear like a knife.
“It was all so sudden that we didn’t know what to do. We all spoke at once: ‘What is it?’ ‘What shall we do?’ ‘Shall we defend ourselves?’ ‘The soldiers!’
“There were no soldiers—fled—out of sight! We could barely see their white ballet-skirts leaping away in every direction. We were going to have our throats cut like sheep! I remember how at that moment the frightened crowd rushed upon the bridge, and bore us back with it toward the defile. Phil grasped my arm and said to Helia and me: ‘Don’t be afraid; I’m with you!’ There was such fire in his eyes that I felt reassured. We went back toward the wagon, and I shut my eyes and stuffed my fingers in my ears, letting pass the waves of howling creatures,—men, women, and children,—who climbed up on the wagon or slipped beneath it, some leaping up only to fall back with convulsed features, struck down by the bullets!
“I heard Will say to me, ‘Turks!’ I opened my eyes. Horsemen were riding here and there through the plain, striking right and left with their sabers. Men on foot were advancing, singing harshly. I heard a general discharge, and then pitiful cries. The wagon turned crosswise of the defile. One of our horses reared and the other fell heavily; all the luggage tumbled—the way was blocked! We were sheltered by the wagon as behind a barricade, pell-mell with the fugitives. Helia had not followed us—she was not there!
“‘Helia is lost!’ Phil said to me. Pressed by the crowd as he was, he could not disengage himself to go to her aid. Through an opening in the wagon I saw her standing alone. She had not had time to take shelter with us. Bullets were whistling on every side. I no longer knew what I was doing. These were not comic-opera Turks, with gourds for helmets, and dressed in gilded rags. They were men armed with rifles and daggers. Everywhere there were the dead, everywhere there was blood. It was frightful!