That these two loved each other intensely, although Turks, was the first thing that touched Lancey’s feelings. On discovering that Ali Bobo happened to have dwelt for a long time with an English merchant in Constantinople, and could speak a little of something that was understood to be English, he became intimate and communicative.
Not more tender was the love of David and Jonathan than was that of Eskiwin and Ali Bobo. As the screw to the nut, so fitted the one to the other. Eskiwin was grave, his friend was funny. Ali Bobo was smart, his comrade was slow. They never clashed. Jacob Lancey, being quiet and sedate, observed the two, admired each, philosophised on both and gained their esteem. Their friendship, alas! was of short duration.
“You’s goodish sorro man,” said Ali Bobo to Lancey one evening, as they sat over the camp-fire smoking their pipes in concert.
Lancey made no reply, but nodded his head as if in approval of the sentiment.
“Heskiwin, ’e’s a good un too, hain’t ’e, Bobo?” asked Lancey, pointing with his thumb to the tall Turk, who sat cross-legged beside him smoking a chibouk.
Ali Bobo smiled in the way that a man does when he thinks a great deal more than he chooses to express.
At that moment the officer in command of the detachment galloped furiously into the camp with the information that the Russians were upon them!
Instantly all was uproar, and a scramble to get out of the way. Eskiwin, however, was an exception. He was a man of quiet promptitude. Deliberately dropping his pipe, he rose and saddled his horse, while his more excitable comrades were struggling hurriedly, and therefore slowly, with the buckles of their harness. Ali Bobo was not less cool, though more active. Lancey chanced to break his stirrup-leather in mounting.
“I say, Bobo,” he called to his stout little friend, who was near, “lend a ’and, like a good fellow. This brute won’t stand still. Give us a leg.”
The little Turk put his hand on Lancey’s instep and hoisted him into the saddle. Next moment the whole party was in full retreat. Not a moment too soon either. A scattering volley from the Russians, who were coming on in force, quickened their movements.