"Which of you common Janissary fellows goes by the name of Halil Patrona?"
Patrona stepped forth.
"Methinks, Halil Pelivan," said he, "it does not require much brain-splitting on your part to recognise me."
"Where is your comrade Musli?"
"Can you not give me a handle to my name, you dog of a ciaus?" roared Musli. "I am a gentleman I tell you. So long as you were a Janissary, you were a gentleman too. But now you are only a dog of a ciaus. What business have you, I should like to know, in Begta's flower-garden?"
"To root out weeds. The pair of you, bound tightly together, must follow me."
"Look ye, my friends!" cried Musli, turning to his comrades, "that man is drunk, dead drunk. He can scarce stand upon his feet. How dare you say," continued he, turning towards Pelivan—"how dare you say that two Janissaries, two of the flowers from Begta's garden, are to follow you when the banners of warfare are already waving before us?"
"I am commanded by the Kapu-Kiaja to bring you before him."
"Say not so, you mangy dog you! Let him come for us himself if he has anything to say to us! What, my friends! am I not right in saying that the Kapu-Kiaja, if he did his duty, ought to be here with us, in the camp and on the battlefield? and that it is no business of ours to dance attendance upon him? Am I not right? Let him come hither!"
This sentiment was greeted with an approving howl.