"It was enough to turn any woman into a raving lunatic," gasped Barbara.
"Guess it didn't turn me," replied Liosha contemptuously.
"But what did you do?" asked Dora.
"I sat down on a stone and thought how I could get even with that crowd." She bit her lip and her soft brown eyes hardened.
"And that's where we came in, don't you see?" interposed Jaffery hastily.
You can imagine the scene. The two Englishmen, one gigantic, red and hairy, the other wiry and hawk-like, jogging up the mountain path on ragged ponies and suddenly emerging onto that plateau of despair where the lonely figure in black and white sat brooding.
Under such unusual conditions, it was not difficult to form acquaintance. She told her story to the two horror-stricken men. British instinct cried out for justice. They would take her straight to the Vali or whatever authority ruled in the wild land, so that punishment should be inflicted on the murderers. But she laughed at them. It would take an army to dislodge her enemies from their mountain fastnesses. And who could send an army but the Sultan, a most unlikely person to trouble his head over the massacre of a few Christians? As for a local government, the mallisori, the mountain tribes, did not acknowledge any. The Englishmen swore softly. Liosha nodded her head and agreed with them. What was to be done? The Englishmen, alter giving her food and drink which she seemed to need, offered their escort to a place where she could find relations or friends. Again she laughed scornfully.
"All my relations lie there"—she pointed to the smoking ruins. "And I have no friends. And as for your escorting me—why I guess it would be much more use my escorting you."