"The women. Good of 'em, what? Miss Vanderman drew it on paper.
They cut it out, and sat up last night sewing it."
"I suppose you know that's filibustering, to fly your private banner on foreign soil?"
"They may call it what they please," said Monty. "I can't well fly the flag of England, and Armenia has none yet. Let's go below, Fred, and see if there's any news."
"Yes, there is news," said Kagig, leading the way down. "I did not say it before the lady. It is not good news."
"That's the only kind that won't keep. Spit it out!" said Will.
Kagig faced us on the stable roof, and his finger-joints cracked again.
"It is the worst! They have sent Mahmoud Bey, against us. I would rather any six other Turks. Mahmoud Bey is not a fool. He is a young successful man, who looks to this campaign to bolster his ambition. He is a ruthless brute!"
"Which Turk isn't?" asked Will.
"This one is most ruthless. This Mahmoud is the one who in the massacres of five years ago caused Armenian prisoners to have horse-shoes nailed to their naked feet, in order, he said, that they might march without hurt. He will waste no time about preliminaries!"
Kagig was entirely right. Mahmoud Bey began the overture that very instant with artillery fire directed at the hidden defenses flanking the clay ramp. Next we caught the stuttering chorus of his machine guns, and the intermittent answer of Kagig's riflemen.