light creeping along the wall, and presently he lay down-with his head very dose to Rustum Khan's. Nothing points more dearly to the clarifying tension of that night than the fact that Rustum Khan with his notions about gipsies could compel himself to lie still with a gipsy's head within three inches of his own, and sham sleep while the gipsy whispered to him. I was not the only one who observed that marvel, although I did not know that at the time.
The nine Armenians who had entered were evidently influential men. Elders was the word that occurred as best describing them. They were smelly with rain and smoke and the close-kept sweat beneath their leather coats—all of them bearded—nearly all big men—and they strode and stood with the air of being usually heard when they chose to voice opinion. Kagig stood up to meet them, with his back toward the fire—legs astraddle, and hands clasped behind him.
"Ephraim says," began the tallest of the nine, who had entered first and stood now nearest to Kagig and the firelight, "that you will yourself be king of Armenia!"
"Ephraim lies!" said Kagig grimly. "He always does lie. That man can not tell truth!"
Two of the others grunted, and nudged the first man, who made an exclamation of impatience and renewed the attack.
"But there is the Turk—the colonel whom your Indian friend took prisoner—he says—
"Pah! What Turk tells the truth?"
"He says that the Indian—what is his name? Rustum Khan—was purposing to use him as prisoner-of-war, whereas in accordance with a private agreement made beforehand you were determined to make matters easy
