We had brought a thermos of hot tea for use during our watch, as it was very cold in the gloomy valley, so I reached that down and gave her some, which she swallowed gratefully enough. Payindah was only firing occasional shots now, and said there was no movement to be seen at the arrow-slits.
While rubbing the girl’s arms, I tried to talk to her. I said a word or two in Greek; then I tried my halting Turki, then Greek again. The second time she seemed to recognize something, and said slowly, in unmistakable Greek, though idiom and accent were strange at first: “Who are you? You are not of those of the gate?”
“Friends, lady,” said I; “friends from a far country. You are safe now.”
Then the pain stopped her speaking more, and she closed her eyes and leant back against the rock.
Five minutes later, she was just beginning to bend her wrists and the swollen veins were going down, but I could see how the efforts hurt her.
I stood up and spoke to Payindah.
“Can you hold this place alone, Payindah? It’s the narrowest place to stop any one. If you can, I will take the memsahib back and send up the others to relieve you. We shall have to get away from here now that we’ve killed these men.”
“Wah, sahib, one shot like me could hold this against an army. Have no fear. They have no guns, and, so long as it’s light, nothing will cross the stones alive while I am here. But what when it gets dark?”
I looked at my watch—just on 3.15.
“The others will be here before dark. Stay you here and hold the valley.” I took off my bandolier and passed it up to him. “I will leave my rifle in case yours should jam at any time.”