CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
PS 3539.S22P2""""™"'' """^ 
 ''''"irniiS'iiiliWjfS ^*°'V o' 'iahtina yes 
 
 3 1924 021 711 415 
 
B Cornell University 
 
 W Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924021711415 
 
PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 A Story of Fighting Yesterdays in the Balkans 
 
 By 
 
 CORRINNE S. and R. A. TSANOFF 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 OUTING PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 
 MCMXIV 
 
Copyright, 1914, by 
 OUTING PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 
 All rights reserved 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTEE PAGE 
 
 I. In the Two-legged House on the River . . ii 
 
 II. The Monk-Maiden on Allhallowmas . . 34 
 
 III. A MATiit Interrupted 33 
 
 IV. Two Virgins 40 
 
 V, MiftKo Reconnoiters 49 
 
 VI. A Career in Turkdom 59 
 
 VII, ThI; Pride of the Vardar jz 
 
 VIII. Manio Dreams of Opulence 80 
 
 IX. Stavry's Coat 89 
 
 X. "Turk's Head" and a Sleeve of Water . 97 
 
 XI. The Sense of Being Waited For .... 104 
 
 XII. The Making of a Joan of Arc 109 
 
 XIII. Weighed in the Balances 117 
 
 XIV. DuLGOKOSSA 127 
 
 XV. DoBRY Goes into the Night 133 
 
 XVI. The Red Saint George 142 
 
 XVII. Thrice an Orphan 149 
 
 XVIII. The Hermit Answers 156 
 
 XIX. "Take Me to Constantinople" .... 164 
 
 XX. The Third Wife 169 
 
 XXI. Delilah 175 
 
 XXII. The Fragrance of Hyacinths 183 
 
 XXIII. An Open Door 191 
 
 XXIV. Through the Door 19S 
 
 XXV, The Road to Freedom 199 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XXVI. "Only a Piaster" 206 
 
 XXVII. Kismet 214 
 
 XXVIII. The Merchant from Salonica . . . 222 
 
 XXIX. USKUB-BOUND 233 
 
 XXX. A Crusade of To-morrow 246 
 
 XXXI. Tooth- MONEY 264 
 
 XXXII. A Tooth for a Tooth 273 
 
 XXXIII. A Bridge Across 281 
 
 XXXIV. A Fire Within 288 
 
 XXXV. A Vulture Swoops 298 
 
 XXXVI. Brigandage and Revolution .... 311 
 
 XXXVII. Dice and the Woman 320 
 
 XXXVIII. Visions and Revisions 336 
 
 XXXIX. Whom Allah Helps 347 
 
 XL. Meshes of the Net 354 
 
 XLI. He That Prepareth the Way . . . 360 
 
 XLII. The Komari Bog 372 
 
 XLIII. Those Who Pay 384 
 
 XLIV. A Leader Almost Lost 393 
 
 XLV. An Old Song 403 
 
 XLVI. Behind the Altar 413 
 
 XLVII. Just Before Dawn 421 
 
 
 
NOTE 
 
 A good story should require no preface, and 
 yet a word of explanation may add to the interest 
 of the reader's acquaintance with the lives and 
 characters revealed below. 
 
 While the writers do not pose as the chroni- 
 clers of a " true story," they are not narrating 
 the imaginary troubles of an imagined folk some- 
 where southeast of Vienna. " Pawns of Liberty " 
 has Macedonia-of-yesterday for its setting, but a 
 good deal of its inspiration comes from the actual 
 history of Bulgaria-of-the-day-before. The Bal- 
 kan War, and the revolts of the Bulgar natives 
 in Macedonia which preceded it, only continued 
 the Bulgarian struggle for liberation which made 
 the sixties and seventies of th^ast century years 
 of tragic glory in the Balkans. The children of 
 the Bulgarian '76 became the leaders of the Mace- 
 donian revolts during the past two decades. For 
 Macedonia and Thrace are inhabited largely by 
 Bulgars, and the revolution was naturally a Bul- 
 garian movement. 
 
 The Bulgar men and women, as well as the 
 
NOTE 
 
 Turks in this tale, are not without their historical 
 prototypes, as can be substantiated by the histori- 
 cal and semi-historical memoirs and chronicles of 
 Bulgarian revolutionists and prisoners in Constan- 
 tinopolitan and other Turkish jails, — an unworked 
 mine of human documents, of which the writers 
 have made liberal use. 
 
PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 IN THE TWO-LEGGED HOUSE ON THE RIVER 
 
 SHAPED like the two legs of a rigHt triangle, 
 the house presented an almost windowless 
 back to the street, ugly, uninviting. Through 
 a heavy door, built under an archway of stone, 
 one entered into an inside court on which all the 
 windows of the house opened. A balcony ran the 
 entire length of the second floor, throwing the 
 interior into comparative shadow. 
 
 The two legs of the house waded clear Into the 
 Ladna River, which laved the hypotenuse, — a 
 solid stone-wall twelve feet high, built right in 
 the water. Pieces of broken glass and jagged 
 bottles projected forbiddingly from the mortar 
 which held them secure, and made approach from 
 the river a venturesome undertaking. 
 
 The rooms on the upper floor, connecting with 
 one another throughout, ended in a brightly 
 lighted studio that looked up and down the river 
 and over to the opposite bank, where the newer 
 portions of the town of Goreno climbed a steeply 
 ascending slope to the Pirin Mountains of north- 
 em Macedonia, a long chain of riotous autumn 
 
 II 
 
12 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 color, topped with the elusive blue of a cloudless 
 sky-line. 
 
 Palettes and unwashed paint-brushes and an 
 unfinished canvas or two mingled with coats and 
 vests and sundry bachelor garments. Utter ar- 
 tistic disorder pervaded the room. The walls 
 were lined with paintings, obviously original and 
 mostly of an allegorical character: Balkan 
 maidens with rosy cheeks, carmine lips, and night- 
 black eyes shot adoring glances at trumpeting 
 cherubim that seemed to rain down from heaven. 
 Saints of both sexes and of all varieties rubbed 
 elbows with classic Venuses in every manner of 
 demure undress. Lions rampant surrounded a 
 golden throne on which a fantastic crown, bril- 
 liant with apocalyptic gems, reposed expectantly. 
 A whole side of the room was devoted to a 
 battle-canvas in which Turkish fezes and Balkan 
 sheepskin kalpaks [caps] mixed in the general 
 melee. Above the smoke-turmoil, eagles and 
 rooks floated ominously, and the pious gold of a 
 monastery-cross glowed in the background. 
 
 Altogether, it was a room that whispered, if 
 not of past, then of future mysteries. 
 
 About sundown, a boy's figure crept noise- 
 lessly into the studio. He opened a closet and 
 got inside, but found it too narrow to be a com- 
 fortable hiding-place. For a while he stood un- 
 decided; then, with a sudden Impulse, he rushed 
 to the wide, wooden divan in the adjoining 
 alcove that served as a bedroom, pulled off a 
 
IN, THE TWO-LEGGED HOUSE 13 
 
 blanket and removed a cushion, re-arranglng the 
 rest so as to avoid detection, shoved aside the 
 sliding panels of the divan, threw cushion and 
 blanket underneath, and crawled in after them. 
 A couple of noisy minutes followed while the lad 
 was getting comfortably established. Then the 
 panels closed together, and the clock ticked on 
 undisturbed as before. 
 
 The twelve-year-old Mirko had done messen- 
 ger duty for his brother Dobry the Iconograph 
 [painter of religious pictures] too often not to 
 have his curiosity whetted. On several occa- 
 sions the same half-dozen men, invited to the 
 studio, had stayed so late that he had always 
 dropped off to sleep before he heard Dobry 
 slam and bolt the iron gate. 
 
 And almost every time these men had come, 
 there had been some out-of-town man to speak 
 to them — and a stranger lot of strangers Mirko 
 had never seen. They had given him hours of 
 futile speculation. The American missionary, 
 for instance, who had come to preach salvation 
 to the studio-crowd the last time they met, left 
 the house on the morning following the meeting, 
 not in his missionary bought-in-the-city costume, 
 but in the short jacket and baggy pantaloon garb 
 of a mountain wood-cutter, with an ax over his 
 shoulder ! 
 
 And this same afternoon, when he had peeped 
 through the keyhole, he had seen a beardless 
 young monk, in hood and cassock, polishing a 
 
14 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 murderous-looking dagger. What sort of a monk 
 was this? A monk could pray and anathematize, 
 but he wouldn't need to carry daggers. God 
 would take care of him. To ask Dobry about it 
 was out of the question. Mirko had decided to 
 investigate directly, by inviting himself to this 
 meeting. 
 
 The boy waited in the darkness for a while. 
 Then, with a new idea, he crept quietly to the 
 edge of the divan and pushed the sliding front- 
 board a couple of finger-breadths. Surely no one 
 could notice the difference from the outside, but 
 to him it made all the difference in the world. 
 He could hear the clock ticking away and, by 
 applying his eye to the crevice, he had a fair 
 view of the studio beyond the partition. 
 
 He settled back on the blanket-cushion to rest. 
 He had had to hurry in order to carry his 
 brother's message to all the guests and still be 
 on hand early enough to put in practice his own 
 eavesdropping scheme. To his Aunt Zora,. who 
 kept house for him and Dobry, he had mentioned 
 going to the grandmother's overnight. 
 
 Mirko stretched his legs comfortably, grinning 
 with expectation. To-night he'd know about 
 them, who they were and what they were really 
 after, talking all night with American mission- 
 aries and daggered monks. He was nervous with 
 the excitement of a greedy curiosity about to be 
 gratified. 
 
 But he had done some running out in the late 
 
IN THE TWO-LEGGED. HOUSE 15 
 
 autumn afternoon. The room was warm, and 
 he felt so cozy lying on his back with the heavy 
 blanket about him I He found himself yawning. 
 His eyes blinked, closed. 
 
 There seemed to be a quarrel between the 
 monk and the missionary. The American wanted 
 Dobry to paint an icon, not with real paint, but 
 with Mirko's own blood, so as to make it power- 
 ful for life or death. But the young, beardless 
 monk shook his dagger-handle and said no. Red 
 pfaint was every bit as good, and, anyhow, he 
 didn't believe in killing little fellows for the sake 
 of the holiest icon of the holy. 
 
 He even threatened to throw the American 
 out of the window. But the American made for 
 Mirko and was just about to hammer his head 
 on the anvil in the blacksmith's shop when 
 
 "What was that? Didn't you hear?" It 
 was the monk's voice. In a twinkle Mirko was 
 wide-awake, and silent as death. 
 
 " Oh, some mouse a-scratching," Mirko heard 
 his brother assure his guests. " Go on with what 
 you were saying, Stoyan." 
 
 The boy dared not look through the crevice 
 or make a single motion, but he could hear 
 plainly. 
 
 "Well," Stoyan the Chandler was speaking, 
 "late last night Selim, Murad Pasha's son, to- 
 gether with another Turk, broke into Zasho 
 Doeff's house — above the Twisty Hollow, you 
 loiow — pulled him out of bed, and wanted him 
 
1 6 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 to roast a lamb for them right then and there. 
 , Zasho began to cross himself in holy terror. 
 Roast a lamb with no fire in the oven I Why, 
 it was plain they were trying to pick a quarrel, 
 or something worse. 
 
 " They showed their teeth soon enough. Said 
 a rooster would do perhaps, but in that case it 
 must be cooked right. They had heard that 
 Kalena, his young daughter, was expert at such 
 things. She must do It for them. 
 
 " Zasho pleaded with them not to frighten his 
 child; offered them his best ox for nothing if 
 they'd only go and leave him in peace. But they 
 hanged him, sandals up, to the cross-beam, raked 
 up the fire, and started pounding at the poor 
 girl's door." 
 
 " The dirty boars ! " Dobry interrupted. 
 
 " All this while," Stoyan continued, " ZasHo 
 was yelling like mad. They were so excited that 
 they hadn't thought of gagging him. A passing 
 shepherd rushed in to see what was the matter. 
 They hanged him head-down, too. 
 
 " The rascals battered at the door till it gave 
 in, but when they rushed ahead the bedroom was 
 empty. Kalena and her mother had escaped 
 through the window and run in dead night all 
 the way down to the huts by the Twisty Hollow. 
 Half a dozen men came to Zasho's help, but 
 found only the two poor souls still hanging, un- 
 conscious. Zasho came to, but there is no tell- 
 ing whether the shepherd will survive. 
 
IN THE TWO-LEGGED HOUSE 17 
 
 "They came to town riding on Zasho's two 
 horses," Stoyan the Chandler finished, " and 
 Selim has been boasting up and down town that 
 he'd have Zasho's plump partridge daughter yet ! 
 Murad Pasha pretends not to know anything 
 about the matter." 
 
 "Do you call this life, comrades? I call it a 
 donkey's existence 1 " Dobry pounded his fist on 
 the table to accentuate his words. " What are 
 we to do, your Holiness ? " 
 
 " Oh, talk about it, I suppose," the monk 
 laughed bitterly. " Grow indignant. Write a 
 letter to the Holy Exarch at Constantinople. 
 But don't do anything, friends ; and so your chil- 
 dren and your children's children will live and 
 die just like you." 
 
 "But, your Holiness, what are we to do?" 
 Croom Dobreff the Carpenter was speaking. 
 "We haven't rifles enough to go round, and as 
 for ammunition " 
 
 " That is just why his Holiness is here, 
 Croom," Dobry declared. " His Holiness, as 
 you know, is raising money to buy candles for 
 the Monastery of Saint John the Thunderbolter 
 and his pilgrims. I've ordered for myself two 
 Mannlicher candlesticks and five hundred of 
 those candles that are going to singe the life 
 out of some pasha's rascal brood, or my hand is 
 good for nothing but paint-brushes." 
 
 " Wish I were a moneyed icon-painter like 
 you," Croom sighed. " All I have is fifty pias- 
 
r8 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 ters and that will have to go for the harem-tax 
 next Monday." 
 
 "What harem-tax?" the monk queried. 
 
 "Don't you know?" 
 
 Mirko turned to the crevice and looked out. 
 It was Ivan the Huntsman of the PIrin Mountains. 
 He was seated on a three-legged stool at the end 
 of the room, and in the dim light he looked 
 larger and more ferocious than ever. 
 
 " Didn't Dobry tell you ? " Ivan said. " This 
 part of the country is to send two hundred thou- 
 sand piasters' worth of taxes to Uskub before the 
 end of the month. This is the value of our reg- 
 ular tithes, — and you know what a bad year this 
 has been. In addition to this, Murad Pasha is 
 levying a special tax of the same amount to build 
 him a new summer harem on Bistra Lake. As 
 if his old one across the river isn't enough 1 The 
 old vulture must have a harem everywhere he 
 lights!" 
 
 " How do you know about the despatch of 
 that two hundred thousand this month?" 
 
 " I don't know for sure, your Holiness," Ivan 
 answered, "but that is what I gathered from a 
 remark of Selim's this morning at Stati's Inn." 
 
 " Two hundred thousand piasters would buy a 
 lot of candlesticks and no end of candles, no 
 end," the monk mused aloud. 
 
 "All it will buy for me will be a dozen kicks 
 for not driving fast enough to suit the dirty 
 hogs," Gani the Teamster muttered. 
 
IN THE TWO-LEGGED HOUSE 19 
 
 "They always have you drive the tax-money 
 wagon, Gani?" the monk asked. 
 
 " Well, always for the last eight years, that 
 is," Gani replied. " When they're ready to start, 
 they call me to the konak stalls, and ofif we go. 
 I never know in advance when the wagon is to 
 start or which road we are to follow. That is 
 their precaution against brigands. Selim says he 
 trusts the reins in my hands but not the tongue 
 in my mouth." 
 
 " What do you get out of your three days' 
 drive to Uskub ? " 
 
 " I get out alive usually," and Gani finished 
 with some choice Balkan profanities. "That is 
 all I ever will get, your Holiness. But you have 
 been about more than we poor Goreno devils. 
 Tell us. When are we going to stettle with 
 these blood-suckers? When is the fight to 
 begin? " 
 
 " I've heard," Croom volunteered, " that next 
 Good Friday night a ball of fire will shoot up 
 the sky and put the very stars out. Then when 
 it gets right over Goreno, it will burst and change 
 into a man with a bugle in his hand. When the 
 bugle sounds, the empire of the Sultan will be no 
 more." 
 
 " No, you haven't got it straight," old Uncle 
 Dimo's voice came from the opposite corner of 
 the room. Uncle Dimo was the Goreno school- 
 master and was very wise. " It will be a maid 
 and not a man, and she will have a cross in one 
 
20 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 t 
 
 hand and a sword in the other. Isn't that right, 
 your Holiness? " 
 
 " The Turk will go when you chase him out, 
 comrades, and no sooner," the monk declared 
 emphatically. " It depends on you alone. Bul- 
 garian blood must drown the tyrants. No sky- 
 maiden's sword will save you. When you come 
 to fight the Turk, you need a few more rifles and 
 a caldron full of lead." 
 
 " Two hundred thousand ^^iasters I " Dobry 
 repeated. 
 
 They were evidently one and all thinking of 
 the same thing, but no one would venture to 
 plunge into the matter first. 
 
 " Whichever road you take, Gani," the monk 
 continued, " isn't there one place you must cross 
 to get from Goreno to Uskub?" 
 
 " So there is," Gani answered. " Through the 
 Krividol Gulch, every time." 
 
 "It is a pretty desert region, isn't it, Gani?" 
 
 ' Gives me the creeps, it does, your Holiness, 
 when I see those rocks overhead to the right, and 
 the mad river down the gulch to the left." 
 
 " One man with a gun in ambush behind those 
 rocks could easily hold half a dozen at bay, 
 couldn't he, Gani ? " 
 
 " Your Holiness ! " Ivan cried out, but checked 
 himself and listened on. 
 
 Mirko saw Zary the Cobbler jump from his 
 chair, rush across the room, and grab the monk's 
 hand. 
 
IN THE TWO-LEGGED HOUSE 21 
 
 " Beg your par4on if I'm rude, your Holiness, 
 but I'm with you, any morning or night or noon- 
 day you give the sign." 
 
 The cobbler crossed himself religiously and 
 took his seat again. 
 
 " Take six men well-armed, Gani," the monk 
 continued, " or a dozen, let us say — what would 
 happen to the Turkish guards?" 
 
 " Nothing would happen to the half-dozen, I 
 know," Gani laughed. " I see whither you are 
 blowing, your Holiness, and if I am driving that 
 wagon= " 
 
 " We'll have candlesticks aplenty before we 
 are through," Dobry finished. 
 
 Under the divan Mirko trembled with excite- 
 ment, but dared not stir for fear of being dis- 
 covered. 
 
 "Are you sure, your Holiness," Ivan the 
 Huntsman now spoke up, " are you sure it is a 
 safe undertaking for the Cause at large?" 
 
 " Safe? " the monk answered, " why, no, Ivan, 
 It Is not safe. But it is necessary. The only 
 danger comes after the deed is done — the danger 
 that some one may blab." 
 
 " Goreno men are graves," Dobry assured 
 them. 
 
 " It's dead men's tongues we have," Croom 
 echoed. " I am with you any time you want me. 
 I have a sister's wrong to avenge." 
 
 " Count me in, too ! " Stoyan the Chandler 
 added. 
 
22 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 " And me ! " Groom's brother Peter finished. 
 
 " Well, then, I guess my father up by the Seven 
 Well-springs can be depended on to feed us while 
 we are out in the Gulch," Ivan assured them. 
 " Krividol is not so far from the Seven Well- 
 springs, you know." 
 
 Uncle Dimo cleared his throat. 
 
 " Children," he said, " it is enough to make 
 me weep with joy to see you so plucky and bold. 
 In my days I did my share. My joints creak like 
 a rickety wagon now, but if you'll take an old 
 bones like me along " He crossed himself. 
 
 " Good for you, uncle," the monk slapped him 
 on the back. " That makes over six, and Gani in 
 the driver's seat is good for another half-dozen. 
 I can bring a handful or two of candles and the 
 rest of the apparatus." 
 
 " Most important," Ivan said, " Turkish sol- 
 diers' costumes for all of us. You have them up 
 in your monastery, don't you, your Holiness ? " 
 
 " All you want, Ivan, up to a dozen." 
 
 " Well then, friends " — the huntsman rose — 
 " the details you will learn later. But come, your 
 Holiness, and swear the comrades to death- 
 secrecy and good faith. Then we must discuss 
 the affairs of the Goreno organization." 
 
 The monk drew near, and Mirko looked at 
 him closely through the crevice. He was so 
 young and beardless, and his eyes burned like 
 fire from the shadow of his hood. From some- 
 where under his cassock he produced a Testament 
 
IN THE TWO-LEGGED HOUSE 23 
 
 and laid it on the table. Upon this he put two 
 daggers crossed, and a revolver on top. He 
 raised a cross in his right hand. The men 
 crossed themselves and repeated slowly after him 
 the oath of unsurrendering battle: 
 
 "While powder hums and Hood doth 
 fie 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 THE MONK-MAIDEN ON ALLHALLOWMAS 
 
 IT WAS full moon on AUhallowmas — unfail- 
 ing sign of winter-long bad luck for Mace- 
 donian shepherds. In the scary twilight, the 
 shacks and sheep-sheds atop the pasture lands of 
 the Seven Well-springs loomed indistinct in out- 
 line. The lighted windows of Uncle Tosho's 
 but deepened the enveloping semi-darkness as the 
 eyeglow of the night-owl blackens the shadow 
 that hides the rest of him. Full moon on AU- 
 hallowmas ; no wonder all cattle were stalled and 
 everything shut and bolted! 
 
 In the mud-plastered hut with the lighted win- 
 dows, the many mouths of Uncle Tosho's house- 
 hold were finishing a late supper of rye bread and 
 sliced onions. To touch meat or milk on AU- 
 hallowmas would spoil any shepherd's winter. 
 Green beech-logs and dried cow-manure burned 
 in the fireplace, yielding a light dim but steady. 
 Around the fire the faces stood out clear and dis- 
 tinct from the gloom that wrapped the corners. 
 
 " Listen to him, the little scamp I " Mother 
 Yana was chiding a greedy ten-year-old. 
 
 24 
 
THE MONK-MAIDEN 25 
 
 " Haven't you had enough plum-brew? You'll 
 burst afore morning, sonny, if you don't stop." 
 
 " Try some of Manio's mixture on him. 
 Mother," Tosho suggested, and Yana laughed. 
 
 "What about Manio's mixture?" several 
 voices asked. Manio was the new night-watch- 
 man, a stocky old shepherd and a good enough 
 worker, but greedier than a priest, and dry as a 
 sponge. 
 
 " Why, before that old barrel came to us, he 
 was on the Yellow Pasture sheds across the valley. 
 It was a cattleman from over there told me this 
 story. Manio, I guess, likes plum-brew better 
 than anything else that comes in kettles, and that 
 cattleman is an old hand at brewing the stuff. 
 I've drunk some of his juice; dripped like cream 
 and stuck to my mustache. George, that is the 
 fellow's name, liked it best cold in the morning, 
 so before he'd turn in he'd hang his kettle on a 
 hook outside the hut. 
 
 " Manio, the old rascal, noticed him do it. 
 One night he waited until George and the rest 
 were all snoring like slaughtered pigs, took the 
 kettle down and loaded up to the nose. Then 
 he poured in some fresh water, stirred it all up 
 and hung the kettle on the hook as before. 
 
 " Next morning George imagined the brew 
 didn't taste as thick as usual, but thought no 
 more of it. He brewed him a fresh kettleful 
 that afternoon and made it richer than ever. 
 Manio laughed in his sleeve and tried the same 
 
26 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 trick again. That must have happened several 
 nights running, for finally George caught on. So 
 what do you suppose he did? 
 
 " He set the kettle a-boiling, but instead of 
 putting in black plums, he chopped up a lot of 
 tobacco-leaves — that hot, biting kind we cure 
 sheepskins with, and the Tartars smoke. It 
 crackles in their long pipes as a handful of sea- 
 salt does when you throw it In the fire. George 
 mixed that with a lot of chimney-soot to give it 
 color, spiced and seasoned it with a bunch of 
 white wool scissored fine and with crushed Alba- 
 nian peppers, and let the whole thing simmer for 
 a couple of hours so that all the poison and 
 bitterness came out and made the juice fit to 
 kill at sight. Then he hung it on the hook 
 as usual. 
 
 " That happened to be a right busy night for 
 Manio. A couple of cows had strayed and he 
 had been chasing them all over the mountain since 
 sundown. Long after midnight he came, tired 
 and thirsty as a dog. He listened a while to 
 make sure every one was asleep. George snored 
 away in great style. Manio took the kettle down 
 and, thirsty as he was, must have gulped half an 
 o^^-measure at least before he realized he was 
 drmking fire-paison. 
 
 " The next day he couldn't drag himself a 
 step. George even thought he'd have to call 
 Priest Azarias, but the rascal survived. He 
 couldn't stand the Yellow Pasture men's gibes. 
 
THE MONK-MAIDEN 27 
 
 though, so he came over here. I haven't noticed 
 our plum-brew getting thinner, either." 
 
 " That's a nasty Turk's trick, I say," a girl's 
 voice sounded from the other side of the fire. 
 
 "What, Irina, filling the fellow full of to- 
 bacco-juice and Albanian peppers?" Tosho 
 laughed. 
 
 " No, that was clever. I mean drinking up the 
 plum-brew. Only, a Turk wouldn't have poured 
 in the fresh water." 
 
 The back door burst open and Manio himself 
 rushed in, shrieking with terror and gesticulating 
 wildly. 
 
 " Holy Saint Petk'a and Saint Nedelia preserve 
 us all ! There is a two-headed horse by the sheep- 
 gate, smoking a pipe with one mouth and drink- 
 ing with the other ! " 
 
 " By the sheep-gate? " Tosho swore. '* That's 
 where I saw you throwing the soapsuds the other 
 day, Yana. I've told you a hundred dozen times : 
 Soap-suds are an invite to goblins and dead men's 
 ghosts and vampires; soap-suds and graveyard 
 willow-twigs and mud from dry wells. We'll be 
 having the spooks set a camp hereabouts if you 
 women don't use your heads." 
 
 " Sit down, Manio I " Yana turned to the 
 watchman. Yana was a kind soul. *' Sit down 
 and collect your senses, then go and chase the 
 monster off our pastures. Like as not he is 
 across the valley by this time. Ghosts are rest- 
 less on AUhallowmas." 
 
28, PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 " It is the full moon does it," Manio reasoned. 
 " It rouses Moslem ghosts as sure as witches' 
 potion. The full moon makes them all a-wander, 
 because no Christian prayers are read for their 
 peace." 
 
 After a while he added sagely, " I believe that 
 horse must have been a turncoat Pomak Bulgar. 
 Real Turks always change' into hogs." 
 
 " Manio, you don't really believe this non- 
 sense, do you?" Irina asked laughingly. 
 
 "Believe it? Why, lassie, Deacon Pantelei- 
 mon heard a priest of the mountain-villages say he 
 had listened to the Abbot of Saint Mitrophan the 
 Stammerer telling the Bishop of Stara Zagora a 
 story handed down by a hermit on his dying bed 
 to the holy monks of Sveta Gora and Hilandar. 
 Some peasants had been hunting in the woods 
 where he was — that is, the Abbot; no, I mean the 
 hermit — and killed a boar that was as big as a 
 bull almost. They skinned him in a hurry and 
 speared him over a fire. But the longer the wild 
 hog roasted, the tougher he got. That made the 
 peasants suspicious, so they examined the carcass 
 — and what do you suppose they found?" 
 
 Manio's voice grew mysterious. " I am not 
 asking you to believe me. It's what the peasants 
 told the holy hermit-man. On one of the boar's 
 hoofs they found a gold seal-ring that was after- 
 ward recognized as having belonged to a Turk, 
 Chaush Bey, who had died in the woods not long 
 before. Chaush had torn it from a miller's 
 
THE MONK-MAIDEN 29 
 
 daughter, who had worn it on a string about her 
 neck as a tahsman." 
 
 All had been silent while Manio was spinning 
 his yarn. Now that he was through, the ten- 
 year-old nestled closer to his mother and burst 
 out crying. 
 
 " Manio, you've found the worst time of the 
 year to be telling scary stories," Mother Yana 
 rebuked him. " Here, have some brew and go 
 back to your watching." 
 
 " Mind you bolt the outer gate tight," Tosho 
 cried after him. " Dead men's ghosts are bad 
 enough if your belly is empty or too full, but it 
 is live ones that lead cattle out of the stalls in 
 the dead of night when the watchmen don't keep 
 their eyes open." 
 
 " Here," he called him back. " Have any of 
 those Turkish soldiers been prowling about this 
 evening? " 
 
 " Not since those two that came after cheese 
 and bread at sundown. But, Tosho, I can't take 
 my oath on it, yet I think I heard firing some- 
 where down toward the Krividol Gulch. I can't 
 be sure, but I think I did." 
 
 " Bolt the gate and have your rifle ready," said 
 Tosho. 
 
 " I wish Ivan were here," the old shepherd 
 continued. " The son should not have gone 
 hunting this time of year and left us alone like 
 this. There are all sorts of rascals abroad, and 
 my arm doesn't hit as hard as it used to. Shut 
 
30 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 every window tight, Yana, and leave the candle 
 burning. I'll cover up the fire." 
 
 Manio set out in the night, visiting shed after 
 shed. The watch-dogs growled their recognition 
 as he walked past. All of a sudden Manio 
 stopped, transfixed with superstitious fear. This 
 time he could not doubt his vision. Beyond the 
 outermost shed, by the Sweetheart's Well-spring, 
 he could see plainly a real goblin-maiden on 
 horseback, her hair flying in the wind and her 
 eyes burning like moor-lights. He could hear the 
 impatient tramping of her horse as she brought 
 him quickly to a halt and alighted. 
 
 Manio crept noiselessly behind a shed-door and 
 peeped through a crevice, his teeth chattering 
 until he was sure they would betray his presence. 
 What he saw was more marvelous than any 
 abbot's tale. The goblin-maiden seemed not 
 more than five elbow-lengths away. In the full 
 moonlight her face was the face of a young girl, 
 but white as death. She knelt beside the spring, 
 filled a bucketful and gave her horse a drink; 
 drank herself, patted the horse, filled another 
 bucketful, walked a few steps, and sat down on 
 the dewy grass. 
 
 Manio noticed that she limped badly. She un- 
 wound the sandal-strings, unwrapped her white 
 leggings and began bathing her foot and leg. 
 
 The watchman pinched himself to make sure 
 he was not " seeing things." They would never 
 believe him in the morning! They would only 
 
THE MONK-MAIDEN 31 
 
 laugh at his tale. If only Uncle Tosho were here 
 to see for himself I 
 
 From a bag she carried, the maid took out 
 what looked like a jar of ointment, and for some 
 time rubbed it up and down from her foot to her 
 knee. Then she wrapped the legging about her 
 ankle, tied something very hard above her knee, 
 wound the sandal-strings around, rose and walked 
 gingerly up and down. 
 
 She stopped as if to listen. Manio also lis- 
 tened, and seemed to hear the peal of distant 
 thunder. The sky over the mountain was star- 
 less now, black with threatening clouds. The air 
 rustled with the chill that goes before a Balkan 
 thunder-storm. 
 
 What he saw by the spring, however, made him 
 grit his teeth to keep them from rattling. The 
 shepherd dared not breathe, but silently crossed 
 himself as a saintly hermit does when he sees un- 
 saintly visions. Wonder followed wonder right 
 before his very eyes. The maiden was disrobing. 
 
 With all his curious superstition, Manio had 
 the Macedonian peasant's crude modesty, and his 
 eyes closed of themselves — only to open again in 
 fearsome marvel. Where he had seen a goblin- 
 maiden, he now saw a young, beardless monk in 
 cassock, with baggy pantaloons and a heavy 
 waistband from which protruded pistols and 
 daggers, and a belt of bullets slung over the 
 shoulder. The brigand, monk, maiden, goblin, 
 or whatever It was, fastened its belt tighter about 
 
32 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 its waist, and proceeded to put up its hair. Some- 
 thing snapped, and Manio saw a monk's black 
 cap on its head. It went to the spring again, 
 gave its horse another drink, once more looked 
 carefully about, then with one leap was astride 
 and away. 
 
 Manio mumbled his prayers and continued to 
 cross himself. He could hear distinctly the sud- 
 den storm thundering in the uplands, but he kept 
 staring in the direction where the horse had van- 
 ished. The first cold drops on his nose stung 
 him to consciousness, and he hastened to bar and 
 bolt everything and hide under cov6r 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 A MATIN INTERRUPTED 
 
 IN a hermit's cell up the Great Divide of the 
 Pirin Mountains, where only rooks and 
 eagles abound, above village and hamlet and 
 shepherd's hut — as near heaven as a Balkan man 
 can get with his feet still on Mother Earth — 
 Brother Boyan was saying his early matins. 
 
 Outside, the forest-clad mountain-land shook 
 and roared with the roar of a Balkan thunder- 
 storm. The morning had changed the black 
 darkness into leaden gray, but the mad elements 
 without lent only peace to the ascetic quiet within. 
 Wax candles nodded before a lithographed Vir- 
 gin and a wood-carven image of Saint John of 
 Rilla. The young anchorite, clad in a simple 
 black homespun cassock, bareheaded and bare- 
 foot, shivering, chattered his teeth through the 
 order of his discipline, absorbed in self-imposed 
 ordeal and genuflection, utterly oblivious of the 
 raging storm outside. 
 
 Brother Boyan was just beginning the Sixth 
 Beatitude of the Holy Virgin, when suddenly he 
 stopped short; listened astonished. Was it the 
 
 33 
 
34 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 Evil One on AllhalloVtide seeking to distract 
 him? He took up his prayer again. No, surely 
 it was a groan, a sobbing human cry he heard. 
 He laid the rosary on the shelf before the icon, 
 stepped to the narrow opening between the 
 rocks that served for an entrance, and looked 
 out. 
 
 In the foggy gray of the rain-pour he could 
 distinguish a dim shape that looked like a horse. 
 Evidently an exhausted rider. But what could a 
 rider be seeking atop the Divide? 
 
 The hermit returned quickly to the Virgin, 
 crossed himself and kissed the cross, then threw 
 a wheat-sack about his shoulders and rushed out 
 into the storm. 
 
 It was a horse, riderless and tramping with 
 fright. Brother Boyan peered about him. Ten 
 feet away he saw a human form crumpled up at 
 the foot of a pine-tree. 
 
 " God have mercy on us I " he muttered as he 
 bent over the motionless body. 
 
 It was clad in a cassock; the black cap had 
 rolled onto the ground. For a moment the her- 
 mit feared he had come too late. But the body 
 shivered as he lifted it in his arms, and, as the 
 head dropped limply on his shoulder, he could 
 feel the faint, irregular breathing. 
 
 It was a light burden, he thought. As he laid 
 it on the bearskin cover of his simple couch, a 
 mass of dark hair fell over the pillow. 
 
 The hermit went to the inside of the cave, re- 
 
A MATIN INTERRUPTED 35 
 
 turning presently with a flask which he applied 
 to the half-open lips, at the same time unclasping 
 the soaking wet cassock. Beneath the monk's 
 garb Brother Boyan saw what even his eremite 
 eyes could not fail to recognize as a peasant girl's 
 jacket, In spite of a belt of bullets strapped over 
 the shoulder! 
 
 With an ascetic shiver he drew aside. The 
 human shape before him shuddered slightly, as if 
 to rise. Two eyes blinked, opened — the eyes of 
 a woman — and Boyan heard the weak sound of a 
 voice that never came from a monk's throat: 
 
 "Did they get away? Dobry, did they?" 
 
 The eyes closed again and the girl lay limp on 
 the bed. 
 
 Brother Boyan was too good a man to let the 
 sentimental shock of his discovery blind his her- 
 mit eyes to the need of immediate help. He ap- 
 plied the flask again to the girl's lips, took off the 
 belt of bullets, loosened her jacket at the neck 
 and undid her hair completely, then wrapped the 
 bearskin and a couple of coarse blankets about 
 the shivering body, and went to the interior of 
 the cell for fire-wood. 
 
 He lighted the pile of pine-branches and dry 
 logs with the wax-candle that glimmered before 
 the icon, repeating a prayer while the flames 
 leaped joyously from twig to twig. In a few 
 minutes the dismal cold of the cave had vanished 
 in the bright warmth. Brother Boyan approached 
 the unconscious girl again. Unable to move the 
 
36 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 couch itself — merely a rock ledge near tHe wall 
 of the cave — he drew a heavy shepherd's ground- 
 cloth and laid it before the fire. Then he hesi- 
 tantly turned to the girl; but the ascetic in him 
 was loath to approach her. 
 
 "Mother of Jesus!" he whispered, crossed 
 himself before the icon, and reverently touched 
 the lithographed sanctity with his lips. Even now 
 he dared not touch the girl. He wrapped the 
 hlankets about her, and thus carried her clumsily 
 across the cave and laid her down, face toward 
 the fire. 
 
 Brother Boyan was a young hermit. His as- 
 cetic fervor was the more ardent because of the 
 unquenched susceptibility of youth. The girl's 
 cold, wet garments were as a mantle of death 
 about her, he knew, and yet he could not summon 
 woman's aid. In front of that fire, he thought, 
 she would soon be dry. He piled wood upon the 
 blazing mass, pushed aside the stone overhead, 
 so as to widen the opening that served as a chim- 
 ney, and stood looking at the icon. 
 
 Who could tell? Perhaps this was all a test- 
 ing of him, an anchorite's temptation. He had 
 read of such lures in the holy books of Saint 
 John of Rilla : of temptresses sent to eremites by 
 the Great Tempter. 
 
 He must watch and pray. 
 
 He prayed without watching. But the fire- 
 warmed garments steamed up from the prostrate 
 girl. A groan escaped her lips. Accidentally the 
 
A MATIN INTERRUPTED 37 
 
 hermit glanced at his hands; they were blood- 
 stained. 
 
 With a cry of pity he was at her side. The 
 gray blanket at her feet, he now noticed in the 
 fire-glow, was spotted with blood. The left leg 
 of the baggy pantaloons, which combined 
 strangely with the peasant-girl's jacket, was 
 soaked with blood, and sticky. She trembled all 
 over as he touched it. There was an ugly bullet- 
 wound on her knee just below the joint. 
 
 An inefFective bandage tied In a knot had 
 checked the blood-flow only partially. Brother 
 Boyan tried to unfasten it, but his hands felt as 
 wooden sticks. At last he took a knife and cut 
 the knot loose. Tearing a towel into strips, he 
 soaked it with whisky and washed the wound 
 clean. The bullet had evidently shot right 
 through, just missing the bone. 
 
 With some difficulty he stopped the blood and 
 bandaged the wound as best he could. He wiped 
 the blood from her clothes, noting with satisfac- 
 tion that they were getting dry, and rubbed her 
 head and hair with a dry cloth. He listened to 
 her breathing. The girl, who had trembled vio- 
 lently while he was cleaning the wound, now lay 
 motionless, fast asleep. 
 
 He turned her about with gentle clumsiness, so 
 that her back could dry, took one of the blankets 
 and warmed it before the fire, wrapped her well 
 and put his only pillow under her head. Then, 
 Stirring up the fire, he knelt once more before 
 
38 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 the Virgin, and took up the Sixth Beatitude where 
 he had left off. 
 
 Outside the rain poured as madly as ever, but 
 it had stopped thundering. Brother Boyan tried 
 stubbornly to continue his ritual, repeating prayer 
 after prayer, but he found himself listening to his 
 mumbling lips. His mind kept returning to the 
 girl sleeping by the fireside. Matin was impos- 
 sible. 
 
 She was a guest from a world he had scorned 
 and forever abandoned, but she was the messen- 
 ger of a mystery. Brother Boyan thought he had 
 conquered his senses; his imagination remained, 
 as yawning an abyss as ever. Who was she? 
 What was she? What had brought her to this 
 out-of-the-way cell in the teeth of a Balkan rain- 
 storm, parading in a monk's cassock, brigand's 
 pantaloons, and a peasant-girl's jacket? Whose 
 bullet had pierced her knee, and had it been in- 
 tended for her, and why? Who was Dobry; and 
 who were " they " about whose capture she wor- 
 ried? 
 
 All at once he thought of the horse, which he 
 had forgotten completely in his anxiety about her. 
 He snatched the wheat-sack by way of rain-cloak 
 and, forgetting to kiss the icon this time, rushed 
 out into the rain. 
 
 He found little trace of it. After some close 
 search, however, he saw horse's hoof-prints lead- 
 ing down the steep path by the gully. He fol- 
 lowed for half an hour or more. They ended at 
 
A MATIN INTERRUPTED 39 
 
 a slippery turn on the narrow goat-path. Brother 
 Boyan peered down the gorge, but though he saw 
 every mark of the animal's fall on the sheer bank, 
 he could see nothing at the bottom, but the rain- 
 drunken Ladna River roaring down its course, 
 with trees uprooted floating on the crest of the 
 waves. By that time, with such a swift current, 
 the animal's carcass must have reached the valley. 
 And there was a woman lying wounded in his 
 cave with a badly shot knee, perhaps feverish, 
 half a day's journey from a living soul, sepa- 
 rated from a sinful world by a now unfordable, 
 mad current. His wood supply was meager. He 
 must collect more fuel. As he turned back, a 
 thousand thoughts and new worries clashed in his 
 mind, and the blinding rain beat upon his wheat- 
 sack and bathed his set face. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 TWO VIRGINS 
 
 WHEN he returned, she was tossing rest- 
 lessly in her sleep. The flush of fever 
 burned in her face. It worried the an- 
 chorite, but he felt of her garments, and found 
 them quite dry. Doubtless her fever was the re- 
 action from the night's exposure and the rain and 
 the loss of blood. He mumbled a prayer before 
 Saint John of Rilla's wood-carven image — Saint 
 John himself had the fever once — and threw a 
 fresh log over the fire. 
 
 A great boulder had rolled corner-wise into 
 the mouth of the cave, and, shutting off most of 
 what would otherwise have been a wide front, 
 had divided the interior in two. The larger of 
 the two openings thus left served as the hermit's 
 cell; the smaller, — It was so narrow that a human 
 form could scarcely eel through, — led to the Inner 
 part of the cavern, and around the rough edge 
 of the boulder to the other side of the cliff. The 
 lighted part of this Interior provided Boyan with 
 a pantry. He stepped In, promptly emerging with 
 a basket of not overfresh vegetables, and a small 
 
 40 
 
TWO VIRGINS 41 
 
 kettle. He filled the kettle with water, hung it 
 on the iron hook over the blaze, and dropped the 
 vegetables into it. Surely a soup would be good 
 for his patient. 
 
 The fire crackled merrily, A spark flew out 
 and fell on the coarse blanket. Boyan stooped 
 quickly to brush it off. Her hand lay on the 
 cover and his own touched it for an instant. Was 
 it the fever that made the touch so fiery? The 
 hermit laid his fingers gently on her forehead. It 
 certainly was hot, and the coolness of his hand 
 seemed to soothe her. He remembered a time 
 in his adolescence when a fever was consuming 
 him; how he had craved nothing so much as 
 freezing water. 
 
 The spring by the cave flowed down icy-cold. 
 Boyan dipped a gourdful and carried it back to 
 her side. He soaked a towel and laid it over 
 her head. The girl shivered, half opened her 
 eyes, then sank back with a sigh of relief. Pres- 
 ently her tossing ceased, her breathing grew more 
 regular, and she dropped Into a quiet sleep. 
 
 The hermit watched her in silence, cooling the 
 towels from time to time, but she did not waken. 
 
 Boyan's massive build breathed unspent animaj 
 vigor which ill accorded with the ascetic frame 
 in which it had been encased. The stalwart phy- 
 sique seemed destined to be the flaming torch of 
 an avenging nation, not a candle of self-effacing 
 piety. One wondered how prayers and humble 
 supplications could issue frpra that throat, proud 
 
42 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 and firm and chiseled out of living rock; how those 
 knees could bend in meditation. His whole being 
 — Herculean frame, wild waving hair dyed in 
 midnight, eyes of untamed fire — proclaimed him 
 a lord of battle. Yet a mantle of humility evel- 
 oped the man, and the very strength of him made 
 the hermit more defiantly asetic as he bent over 
 the sleeping woman, ministering to her needs like 
 the good Samaritan of a Pirin parable. 
 
 The odor of scorched vegetables brought him 
 to himself. He sprang up and took the kettle 
 off the fire. She was still sleeping soundly. Surely 
 she needed food more than sleep. He wondered 
 what he could do to waken her. She should be 
 aroused gently in a way not to alarm her. 
 
 A quaint thought came into his head. Clear- 
 ing his throat, the hermit began a low, liturgic 
 chant. The first notes fell strangely out of tune, 
 and he broke off Into an uneasy laugh. The 
 presence of another, and that other a woman, 
 made him shy even of his own voice. 
 
 A cloud passed over her face, she turned 
 slightly in his direction. 
 
 " Don't laugh," she ordered. " I want to 
 sleep," and sank back. 
 
 He stared at her anxiously. She must be ut- 
 terly exhausted, and still unconscious of where she 
 was. Her condition moved him to pity. She was 
 helpless. He realized suddenly that she would 
 probably be so for some time. It was long past 
 noon. The sun had just reached the sheer cliffs 
 
TWO VIRGINS 43 
 
 of Vishny Peak, and the pines on the lower 
 reaches of the mountain threw the valley to the 
 east in the shadow of approaching even. 
 
 An unuttered thought it was, or perhaps only a 
 mood, but it shocked the soul of the eremite as 
 his eyes surveyed the bareness of his rocky cell 
 and rested on the woman, sleeping before his fire. 
 He crossed himself almost guiltily, his lips mur- 
 muring a " Gospody pomiluy " [God have mercy 
 on us]. He had completely neglected his ritual, 
 but this was no time for devotions. " Inasmuch 
 as ye have done it to the least of these," he kept 
 repeating. The host in him subdued the ascetic. 
 Man or woman, here she was in his cave. He 
 must get things comfortable for the night. 
 
 The bald peaks all about him glowed in the 
 mellow sunlight and the woodland rustled con- 
 tentedly. The clear air set Boyan's blood a-tingle. 
 He wielded his heavy knife lustily. His greedy 
 eyes sought for the softest twigs of balsam and 
 hemlock; and as the fragrant pile at his feet grew, 
 a strange gladness crept within him. The body 
 he had hoped to kill thrilled with a new, joyous 
 life. 
 
 The noonday sun had dried the soft pine- 
 branches, but he warmed them before the fire 
 to make sure. The wall of the cave opposite the 
 fire receded into an alcove. Boyan spread his 
 fresh twigs carefully, threw his only sheepskin 
 cover on them and, by way of curtaining off the 
 improvised chamber, he stretched a blanket in 
 
44 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 front. Then he stood back to admire the effect. 
 The partition was quite successful. As he stepped 
 into the alcove and pressed the balsam-couch to 
 test its springiness, his eyes danced with boyish 
 satisfaction. 
 
 "OhI" 
 
 The exclamation brought him to his feet. He 
 threw back the curtain and stepped out. She was 
 awake at last, intensely awake and staring about 
 her wide-eyed. He tried to speak quietly : 
 
 " You have slept long." 
 
 Her dark, gray-brown eyes searched his face 
 keenly; she struggled to get to her feet. But a 
 bend of the knee sent a tremor of agony through 
 her. She reeled forward and almost fell into his 
 arms as he sprang to help her. 
 
 "Do sit down," he said. "You are weak; 
 you need food." 
 
 He swung the long-neglected kettle over the 
 fire, and brought out a loaf of bread and some 
 cheese. When the vegetables once more sim- 
 mered, he put the kettle between them on a high 
 stone and folded a wheat-sack for her to sit on. 
 
 She watched him curiously, questioningly, as he 
 moved about, but neither ventured any conversa- 
 tion. He motioned her to sit down, smiling whim- 
 sically at the warmed-over soup. 
 
 "This Is no sort of dinner for AUhallowtide," 
 he said, " but it is the best I have." Then, as he 
 uncovered the kettle, " The mess has waited long. 
 You were a heavy sleeper." 
 
TWO VIEGINS 45 
 
 She sat up with an effort, but without demur, 
 for she was evidently weak with hunger. They 
 ate almost greedily. She could feel strength com- 
 ing to her with every mouthful. 
 
 " Will you tell me. Holy Brother," she turned 
 to him, " when did I come here, and how? " 
 
 *' You came in the gray dawn," he answered. 
 " How, the Blessed Virgin only knows. Your 
 horse lost his footing on the Ladna cliffs half an 
 hour's distance from here, and fell in the river." 
 
 She shuddered. 
 
 " And you ? And this cave ? " 
 
 " I am one who seeks peace with God and the 
 lone eagles up here. You are still in this stone 
 cave because there is no help nearer at hand than 
 half a day's journey." 
 
 She passed her hand over her forehead. 
 
 " I remember climbing and climbing. Then I 
 could ride no more, and the storm beat me from 
 the saddle." She touched her bandaged knee. 
 " You have been very good," she added uncer- 
 tainly. 
 
 He flushed and stammered in embarrassment. 
 " There was no one else here to do it." 
 
 She gave him another direct look. 
 
 " You are very good," she concluded. 
 
 Once more silence ensued. She bent her head 
 and watched him intently, as though she would 
 read every letter of his thought. 
 
 " Tell me ; has there been any one else — follow- 
 ing — I mean here — ^looking for me?" 
 
46 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 There was more anxiety than eagerness in her 
 voice. All the questions and conjectures of the 
 morning returned to him as he looked at her tense 
 features. 
 
 " There has been no one," he answered. " Only 
 the peace of God can draw a man up this goat- 
 path. The road of men is five hours distant down 
 the valley." ' 
 
 " Are you always alone here? " 
 
 " Ivan the Huntsman is my only guest, and he 
 has not been here these many days." 
 
 " Ivan the Huntsman? And he is " — she con- 
 sidered a moment, then finished — " the first-born 
 of old Tosho of the Seven Well-springs? " 
 
 Her concern astonished him. Who was she? 
 Surely not a village-girl, yet how did she know 
 Ivan, who scorned women and cared only for the 
 rocks and chasms of the Balkan uplands? He 
 nodded in assent: 
 
 " He is Tosho's son," he answered. " He used 
 to bring me gifts from the Seven Well-springs, 
 but of late he has forgotten, and I have had to 
 go down to the sheep-sheds myself." 
 
 " You — you go to Tosho's for supplies? " 
 
 She leaned across the stone table in her eager- 
 ness. "Is it far?" 
 
 " Three rocky hours down the cliff-trail on a 
 3ry day. It is more than a day's journey now." 
 
 " Oh I " she almost moaned and sank baclc 
 wearily, stretching her foot toward the fire. 
 
 He waited for her to speak further, but she 
 
TWO VIRGINS 47 
 
 watched the coals in silence. The sunset-lighted 
 pines in the west burned quickly to ashy twilight; 
 veiled in filmy dusk, forest and cliff vanished in 
 indistinct outline or grew into phantom shapes, 
 desolate, portentous. A mystic, incoherent rustle 
 swallowed up the thousand jolly chirps and 
 crackles of a PIrin woodland day, and an odor of 
 dark brown earth and damp-rotting leaves rose 
 from the ground and penetrated every nook and 
 crevice. Night had closed over the mountains. 
 Dark night enveloped them on all sides, save for 
 the drowsy glow of the dying coals on the hearth. 
 At length he rose. 
 
 " There is — a bed — of balsam boughs," he 
 mumbled. " I have curtained It off as best I 
 could." 
 
 She looked up and around her. Outside the 
 cave-mouth she could see the blackness of the 
 night and hear the moaning of the night wind. A 
 realization of their utter solitude came over her 
 in a flood. 
 
 " No, no ! " she cried. " I shall stay here In 
 the light. I do not care for sleep." 
 
 He flushed again. 
 
 " You are weak and need rest," he said In a 
 hurt tone. " You are safe, you need have no fear 
 of me." 
 
 He bowed his head and crossed himself rever- 
 ently. 
 
 *' I am a man seeking peace with God on High," 
 he Insisted. 
 
48 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 She struggled to stand up, but the hermit looked 
 down and made no offer of help. She limped 
 painfully toward the curtain, and before she 
 pushed it aside turned to him once more. 
 
 He looked up. The firelight played on her 
 face, and long, dark tresses fell in disorder over 
 her shoulders. Her eyes smiled frankly across 
 the fire. 
 
 " I trust you," the girl said simply; then added, 
 half whimsically: 
 
 " You say you are a man seeking peace with 
 God. I am a woman seeking peace for men." 
 
 The curtain dropped behind her. Boyan stood 
 motionless, staring at the place where she had dis- 
 appeared. When he knelt at his devotions before 
 the Holy Virgin, the blue eyes of the image re- 
 flected a grayish-brown light that smiled at him 
 with reflected firelight, and puzzling words ob- 
 structed the prayer he was repeating, and followed 
 him into his dreams. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 MIRKO RECONNOITERS 
 
 MIRKO had waited in front of the studio 
 until his very teeth chattered with nerv- 
 ous. Impatience. He could hear his 
 brother's deep breathing, and only the memory 
 of former cudgellngs kept him from wakening 
 the sleeper. 
 
 The twelve-year-old had been slipping up and 
 down the corridor-balcony all night, It seemed, 
 waiting, waiting, and watching. It was almost 
 gray In the east before Dobry came and, though 
 Mirko tumbled off Into a restless sleep after that, 
 he dreamed so vividly that he felt quite as If he 
 had been awake. The first ray of sunlight which 
 shot over his face wakened him crying: 
 
 "Dobry, Dobry, they're after me! They're 
 ■catching up with me, Dobry! I didn't steal any- 
 thing!" 
 
 " The devil's hoofs always leave a trail, 
 sonny! " 
 
 Aunt Zora stood In the doorway, pointing an 
 accusing finger at the crumbs of some sugar-fried 
 wheat-shreds on a chair by the bed. 
 
 49 
 
50 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 " Of course you'll have dreams when you steal 
 food like that and gobble it up under your blan- 
 ket. . Out with you now, you little grasshopper, 
 and run to Abraham the Jew's for a bag of sugar, 
 or I'll tell Dobry on you." 
 
 Mirko rolled out, dressed, and was on the 
 street before his aunt had reached the kitchen. 
 There was a strange stir; people were running 
 here and there or standing in groups at the cor- 
 ners, waving their hands excitedly. For once in 
 his life Mirko had no curiosity, but sped straight 
 for the Jew's store. Turning the corner he ran 
 squarely into a lad of his own age. 
 
 " Mirko, Mirkitchko, have you heard? " the 
 boy cried, too excited to resent his tumble. 
 "Think of all that money!" 
 
 Mirko's knees almost gave way under him. 
 
 "Did they do it really?" he gasped, off his 
 guard. " And wasn't any one hurt? " 
 
 " They got away," the boy answered, " and all 
 the Turkish zaptiehs [guards] were killed but 
 one." 
 
 " Where did you learn all this, Snubby-nose? " 
 
 " From that longbeard over at the corner. 
 The one guard who got away told the Pasha it 
 was a band of Turkish soldiers who hadn't had 
 any pay that did it. But I don't believe that, 
 even if the Pasha does." 
 
 He came nearer, laying his forefinger impres- 
 sively on Mirko's arm. 
 
 "I believe those fellows were real brigands, 
 
MIRKO RECONNOITERS 51 
 
 Mirko, the kind Granny sings about — a whole 
 band of haidutes. Say, Mirko, wouldn't it be 
 great to be a haidute! Let's go to the market 
 and hear what they are saying there." 
 
 But Mirko curbed his curiosity. 
 
 "I daren't," he said. "Got to bring Aunt 
 Zora's sugar. She's mad as seven hens with me 
 now because I hooked her wheat-shreds last 
 night." 
 
 And, shaking himself off, he ran at full speed 
 for the Jew's store. 
 
 A busy-looking place it certainly was, and an 
 apparently prosperous one. Baskets of eggs and 
 sheepskins of salted dairy butter, sacks of wheat, 
 and large greasy cases of kashkaval cheese filled 
 every available inch of floor-space. On the shelves 
 behind the counter were stacked the one hundred 
 and seventeen manufactured articles which the 
 peasant requires. 
 
 The curious thing about it was the almost com- 
 plete absence of money in the business transacted. 
 Village women with baskets of eggs came in 
 through one door, and went out of another with 
 bottles and jars and packages. Peasants brought 
 in wheat and cheese and butter; they took away 
 olive-oil and bags of salt, sugar and pruning- 
 knives. 
 
 That they sold at wholesale and bought at re- 
 tail seemed to worry them little. Abraham's was 
 the only place in Goreno selling what they needed, 
 and, had they insisted on a money medium, they 
 
52 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 would have returned with even less in their bas- 
 kets and wagons. Meanwhile Abraham had an 
 oily tongue, and a better house than any Bulgar 
 in town. 
 
 Mirko edged his way to the counter and was 
 trying to catch the Jew's eye and order his sugar, 
 when a hairy hand caressed his face rather 
 roughly and pushed him aside. 
 
 " My, my," Mirko heard an old voice cackle, 
 " the young ones to-day certainly push themselves 
 ahead and don't show much respect for white 
 hairs. Wait a bit, sonny, don't act like an un- 
 mannered gipsy-boy." 
 
 Mirko slunk back, quite shamed. Contrary 
 to his first Impression, however, no one else 
 seemed to have heard the old man's censure or to 
 be paying any attention to the Incident; and by 
 and by the lad gathered up courage to glance up 
 at the graybeard, who was waving his hand at 
 the busy storekeeper. 
 
 It was Zasho Doefif, the old shepherd. He 
 " had heard something," he kept repeating to 
 everybody, so he had hitched up, with three 
 pounds of butter on board, to " find out." 
 
 " They say, Abraham " 
 
 " Let them say, Uncle, — what did you say you 
 wanted this morning? " 
 
 " There is some goods coming to me from last 
 time, and here's a pot of butter. I need a scythe- 
 grinder, Abraham, and Lada, my old woman, she 
 wanted some straining cheesecloth for the milk. 
 
MIRKO RECONNOITERS 53 
 
 Yes, Abraham, I heard they had got a pot of 
 money out near Krivldol somewhere; thousands 
 of golden liras, all the Sultan's taxes ; what do you 
 think, Abraham ? " 
 
 Abraham sniffed. " Here's your cheesecloth 
 and your grinder, Uncle, — and, Uncle," he said, 
 " here is some cotton-wool. Stuff your ears with 
 it: they'll be better off if they do not hear so 
 much. Good day, Uncle. — You want something, 
 little boy?" He turned to Mirko. 
 
 " Your brother is tired and sleepy this morn- 
 ing," Aunt Zora told the lad when he returned. 
 " Eat your breakfast alone. I am not hungry." 
 
 Mirko broke his bread into his red earthen 
 milk-bowl and stirred it up with his wooden 
 spoon, but he could not eat. The moment Aunt 
 Zora left him alone in the room, he tiptoed to the 
 studio and listened intently at Dobry's bedroom- 
 door. He waited for a sign of waking, but his 
 big brother still snored on. How could he sleep 
 when all Goreno was agog with the awful news 
 of the robbery in the mountains? 
 
 Once more Mirko stole along the balcony, 
 through the court, and down the street. He 
 would go to the market and learn what the Pasha 
 really believed. His small body felt almost 
 bursting with the secret he held. And Snubby-i 
 nose thought he knew a lot about It, while he, 
 Mirko, had actually heard them, seen the young, 
 beardless monk 
 
 The streets were buzzing with excitement just 
 
54 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 as before, but Mirko noticed that the men he met 
 seemed to be on the lookout for Turkish zaptiehs. 
 He heard an elderly peasant say that sensible 
 folks kept under cover when trouble was abroad. 
 
 Still, even fear could not check their curiosity. 
 
 " What will Murad Pasha do for his money 
 now?" a graybeard speculated. "Collect our 
 year's taxes yet another time?" 
 
 "How can he?" objected a young man who 
 had just been married. " There is hardly an 
 extra piaster among us." 
 
 " We mint piasters from our finger-nails when 
 Murad Pasha speaks," the old man answered. 
 " Come, let's hear what Stoyan the Chandler 
 thinks. He is always a man of ideas." 
 
 Mirko twisted his bare toes into the cracks of 
 the cobblestones. Stoyan the Chandler had been 
 at the studio that night. A panicky idea struck 
 him. What if some one wanted to talk to Dobry 
 and found him asleep ? It seemed to the boy that 
 would be positive proof of his brother's guilt. 
 Dobry must be awakened at all costs. Mirko 
 rushed back home, ran along the balcony and 
 pounded excitedly at the bedroom-door. 
 
 " Out with you, you crickety scamp," his 
 brother roared at him. " I'll tan your hide till 
 it looks like Turkish leather if you don't leave 
 me alone." 
 
 But Mirko pounded on unheeding. 
 
 " Dobry, Bati, [Brother] Dobry," he panted 
 between knocks. " You must get up. The Turks 
 
MIRKO RECONNOITERS 55 
 
 have found out " Then he realized he must 
 
 not give himself away. " I mean, I heard — Mu- 
 rad Pasha's money — all the taxes — ^Turkish sol- 
 diers have stolen them. You mustn't let them 
 find you here sleeping, Brother." 
 
 Dobry was awake in earnest as he opened the 
 door. He was but half undressed, and his face 
 was streaked with markings of charcoal partially 
 washed off. The room behind him was in utter 
 disorder, and a peculiar odor of burned cloth 
 pervaded it. On the hearth before the fireplace 
 Mirko saw the half-burned tassel of a Turkish 
 fez. He pulled at Dobry's thumb excitedly. 
 
 " Do hurry, Dobry. Can't you hurry? " he 
 pleaded. 
 
 " Be quiet, you little chip of nonsense," his 
 brother answered, though not as crossly as be- 
 fore. " What is the matter with you ? Tell me, 
 what's all this stuff you are prating? " 
 
 Dobry was speaking calmly, but Mirko could 
 see how tense his muscles were. 
 
 " Why, they've stolen the Pasha's money, the 
 taxes, you know. Some men waylaid the wagon 
 at the Krividol Gulch and went off with the whole 
 wagon-load. The Pasha thinks Turkish deserters 
 did It, that's what they all say on the street, but 
 KoHo, that little snubby-nose, you know, says he 
 believes it was haidutes. Say, brother, was it 
 haidutes?" 
 
 Dobry laughed, but somewhat uneasily. 
 
 "The little goblins of AUhallows take you, 
 
$6 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 Mirko, how do I know? Go tell Aunt Zora I 
 want a broiled ox for breakfast. And listen," 
 he added as the lad started, "just hang about 
 the court, won't you, and let me know a little 
 ahead if any one calls around. I want to 
 straighten this place up a bit." 
 
 Mirko patroled the court and street-entrance 
 like a sentinel. If Dobry only knew how much 
 of the inside of the matter Mirko understood, 
 wouldn't he pull his ears for him I Still, the little 
 chap thought, nobody would ever get that secret 
 out of him. He wondered how it had all been 
 done. Had Dobry really ? 
 
 He wondered about it until his thirst for infor- 
 mation sent him back to the studio. When he 
 entered, the room was in order and Dobry stood 
 before his easel slapping paint at an icon of Saint 
 George killing a fiery red dragon, with the little 
 princess fleeing away in the background. Mirko 
 stretched on the floor, began playing with the 
 paint-tubes, and, unable to restrain himself longer, 
 burst out : 
 
 " How do you suppose they did it, Dobry? 
 Was it pitch-dark, and did you ride down the 
 path and " 
 
 His brother cut him short. 
 
 " The best thing you can learn, Mirko, is to 
 keep your hands off those paints and your mouth 
 padlocked. When a twelve-year-old like you- " 
 
 The door shook with a heavy knock. Mirko 
 leaped to his feet, and the hair of Dobry's prin- 
 
MIRKO RECONNOITERS 57 
 
 cess got the stroke of red intended for the 
 dragon's tongue. 
 
 " See who it is." Dobry was mixing yellow 
 and green on his palette to get blue. Mirko 
 opened the door and almost screamed in fright. 
 A burly zaptieh stepped past him into the studio. 
 
 " Murad Pasha wants you at the konak [pal- 
 ace] as fast as your feet can carry you." 
 
 Dobry looked keenly at the Turk, but saw no 
 light of intelligence there one way or the other. 
 He answered simply: 
 
 " Tell the Pasha I shall come at once. And 
 clean your boots next time you go into a decent 
 man's house." 
 
 The zaptieh's officiousness vanished. He hesi- 
 tated a moment, then left the room and walked 
 down to the courtyard. Dobry put on his hat 
 and coat coolly, deliberately. At the door Mirko's 
 tense little figure arrested him. He put his hand 
 kindly on the boy's head. 
 
 " Don't worry, little messenger," he said. 
 "Remember just this: keep your ears open and 
 your mouth shut. And stay around where you 
 can be found in a twinkling." 
 
 The boy nodded and followed his brother along 
 the balcony, down to the street-door. He watched 
 him stride down the street with a mingled feeling 
 of wonder and anxious pride. The zaptieh had 
 gone on a short distance ahead; Dobry ignored 
 him utterly. 
 
 Anyway, Mirko thought, the Turk had not 
 
58 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 dared to boss his brother! He knew, too, that 
 under his coat, carefully concealed in the folds of 
 his red woolen sash, Dobry caried a small, shin- 
 ing revolver. Gathering what comfort he could, 
 the lad crept back into the court, picked out a 
 sunny spot, and watched until sheer weariness 
 sent him to sleep. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 A CAREER IN TURKDOM 
 
 DOBRY VLADIMIROFF'S father had 
 been the chief chorbadji [squire] of the 
 town of Goreno, and had often taken his 
 son with him when called in by the Pasha to be 
 ordered about on local affairs. The lad had in- 
 herited and cultivated a coolness and poise that 
 gave the young man much of his father's prestige 
 when the old chorbadji died. Even the Turks 
 treated the young icon-painter with a degree of 
 respect rarely vouchsafed to one of the oppressed 
 race. 
 
 He strode nonchalantly along the street, but 
 the Turkish zaptieh, keeping half a dozen steps 
 in front of him, had a trick of waiting suspi- 
 ciously at every street-crossing, until Slavy the 
 Saddler, hobbling a few elbow-lengths behind 
 with a patched donkey-harness slung across his 
 shoulder, could manage his curiosity no longer. 
 
 " Whither bound, Dobry?" 
 
 '* To the palace," Dobry answered. " I'm 
 afraid some one has been cooking the Pasha's 
 porridge in a brass bowl and left nothing much 
 but a bad taste for him." 
 
 59 
 
6o PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 " We'd better hope there will be any taste at 
 all for us if the Pasha wants his bowl filled 
 again," Slavy remarked. 
 
 Stoyan the Chandler stood In his shop-door 
 listening. As Dobry passed, he called to him 
 softly : 
 
 "All well, Dobry?" 
 
 Dobry raised his eyes significantly. 
 
 "Only the Pasha knows," he murmured. 
 " This Abdul," with a contemptuous nod toward 
 the zaptieh ahead, " brought me a note to go to 
 the palace immediately. It looks well since he 
 didn't insist on my walking in front of him. Just 
 keep yourself informed at first hand, Stoyan, and 
 let the others know how the land lies. Are our 
 men all about to-day? " 
 
 " Oh, yes; all up and going about our business 
 as usual. Of the wagon-guards, only Mahmut 
 seems to have escaped, and he is a fool. You 
 ought to see Gani, though. You know how he 
 played the loyal driver till the very end. Well, 
 I caught sight of him when they marched him 
 across to the palace. He has lumps on his head 
 like duck's eggs, and his nose is broken and big as 
 two. To look at him, he's the most faithful serv- 
 ant old Murad ever had." 
 
 " Yes, all are acounted for — except the one 
 who is the most important of all," Dobry said 
 anxiously. 
 
 " True," the chandler sighed. " I heard his 
 Holiness cry out when they shot him. He shouted 
 
A CAREER IN TURKDOM 6i 
 
 something at Ivan the Huntsman, the name of 
 some place it was, I think, and off he galloped. 
 I do hope he escaped." 
 
 " And I do hope " Dobry began, but the 
 
 zaptieh turned inquisitively. The icon-painter fin- 
 ished in a whisper, " If his wound was light, all's 
 well; Ivan's men must have hidden the haul by 
 now." 
 
 Dobry raised his voice for Abdul's benefit. 
 
 " We've used about all our candles and need 
 another dozen. Mirko may call on you this after- 
 noon." 
 
 The pebble-paved courtyard before Murad 
 Pasha's palace was filled with excited villagers 
 and wolfish, sullen soldiers. It was market-day, 
 and the rough sheepskins of the mountaineers and 
 shepherds scratched the gaily dyed homespun of 
 the townsmen. 
 
 Dobry squeezed and elbowed his way through 
 the crowd. Here and there some one called to 
 him ; and he waved his kalpak with easy grace and 
 went up the steps of the palace. The Turk- 
 ish guards moved aside for him and he passed 
 down the long corridor to the audience-chamber. 
 Abdul himself opened the door and announced his 
 arrival. 
 
 The room was long and narrow. Broad, low, 
 thick-cushioned divans skirted the walls, broken 
 with heavily paneled, dingy windows very close 
 to the ceiling. There were no tables in the room 
 and no chairs, except a three-legged stool. In 
 
62 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 the middle a large polished brazier glowed with 
 red-hot coals, and several Iron bars of ominous 
 size were heating in it. 
 
 Half a dozen Turkish officers sprawled over 
 the divans in attitudes of officious ennui; at the 
 top of the room, Murad Pasha toasted his lordly 
 shins before a smaller brazier, pulled importantly 
 at his nargileh and grunted sulkily at some intan- 
 gible fate that seemed to be disturbing his equa- 
 nimity. 
 
 Murad was a fair example of a type of pro- 
 vincial governor not uncommon in Macedonia. 
 His rise from nothing to official dignity had been 
 rapid and characteristic, but hardly anyone knew 
 In detail the checkered and romantic career of his 
 youth. 
 
 His mother's husband, once a prosperous Con- 
 stantinople Greek dealing In rice, had failed In 
 business, and had been obliged to sell his store 
 and house to a Mohammedan Albanian In charge 
 of the fire department at the Ministry of Police, 
 only to be robbed of the price a short week 
 after he had received it. The Albanian, attracted 
 by the beauty of the wife, had Interested himself 
 In the husband to the extent of appointing him a 
 fireman. But the novice at the business took his 
 duties so seriously that at a big fire In a Stamboul 
 vintner's shop, he managed to save a barrel of 
 wine Instead of saving his skin. 
 
 The widow, left alone, and thrown upon her 
 own resources, found herself at first welcoming 
 
A CAREER IN TURKDOM 63 
 
 the Albanian's help, then suspecting and for a 
 long time resisting his advances, and finally re- 
 signing herself to her fate. Two years after the 
 death of her husband, the birth of her first child, 
 LambrO, made her a social outcast among her 
 Greek neighbors, and also cooled the Mohamme- 
 dan's passion for her. His wife, the daughter of 
 his official superior, was too insanely jealous to 
 allow any additions to his harem, and he satisfied 
 himself with helping the mother for a while, until 
 his removal to Smyrna deprived her of all means 
 of support. 
 
 Abandoned on all sides, the poor womSfi fared 
 ibadly enough, until her beauty, in which there 
 still lingered something of the old freshness, im- 
 pressed Father Dionisios, priest at the Greek 
 church where, in her plight, she worshipped de- 
 votedly. Through his help she moved to another 
 part of the city, where she could obtain alms and 
 occasional employment while the boy grew up. A 
 clever lad, and handsome as a girl, he soon be- 
 came a fairly successful peddler of fruits and 
 sweetmeats, and his mother began to breathe more 
 freely. Father Dionisios paid them not infre- 
 quent visits; and, while his warm piety did not 
 preclude occasional caresses, his comforting words 
 made his every appearance a source of joy to the 
 mother. 
 
 One night Lambro's troubled sleep attracted 
 his mother's attention, and some words which she 
 caught in his wandering talk worried her so that 
 
64 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 she extracted a confession from him in the morn- 
 ing. 
 
 It appeared that his fruit-stand was near a 
 large palace-like Turkish house with latticed win- 
 dows. He had often seen two black eyes gazing 
 at him through an opening in one of the windows, 
 and almost every day a black slave-woman had 
 come to buy cherries and other fruit, always pay- 
 ing him more than he wanted. The previous day 
 he had gone to the fruit-store from which he 
 bought his supplies, and had been delayed until 
 the middle of the afternoon. When he returned, 
 he had found a strange man occupying his accus- 
 tomed place. Their dispute over the matter had 
 almost arrived at blows, when a carriage came 
 out of the house. The coachman ordered the 
 strange fruit-peddler away; the carriage door 
 opened, and a richly dressed lady, lifting her veil, 
 bought some cherries from him. Her daughter, 
 who was with her, also raised her veil, and the 
 most beautiful face Lambro had ever seen smiled 
 at him; the black eyes which had watched him 
 from behind the lattice twinkled and danced mer- 
 rily, her dyed finger-nails set off the whiteness of 
 her fingers and hands; and her teeth 
 
 " Mother," Lambro exclaimed, " her name Is 
 Fatma, and she Is like a garden of roses. Her 
 mother has made a vow to marry her to a Chris- 
 tian-born, and I could have her for wife if I 
 would turn a Moslem I " 
 
A CAREER IN TURKDOM 65 
 
 " Turn a Moslem, my boy? What would 
 Father Dionisios say? " 
 
 The Father supplied the answer on his next 
 visit, when he heard the particulars, by offering 
 the boy a good position as helper in the church. 
 Lambro wondered how to explain the fatherly 
 care of the priest, who demanded little work from 
 him, yet paid him more than he had been able to 
 earn selling fruit. 
 
 Dionisios was priestly-pious even when the two 
 were alone, and the lad half-revered him. But 
 late one evening Lambro saw him emerge from 
 his room dressed in civilian garb, with a large 
 felt hat over his long hair, which he had combed 
 up on the top of his head. 
 
 " Lambro," he said impressively, " can I trust 
 you?" 
 
 " Yes, Father, unto death," the boy answered. 
 
 " Come along, then." 
 
 They entered a boat, and Dionisios rowed up the 
 Bosphorus, until they came to Arnaut Keuy, the 
 section where Lambro had plied his fruit-ped- 
 dling. 
 
 " Guard the boat until I come back, Lambro," 
 Dionisios ordered. " You can go to sleep, if you 
 want to, — I have chained and locked the boat to 
 this iron post here." 
 
 The youth watched him walk up the dimly 
 lighted street, and wondered where he might be 
 bound, when suddenly he saw the priest, whd had 
 
66. PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 reached a lantern-post, wheel around, as if to see 
 whether he was being followed, and then — turn 
 into a short blind-alley which, Lambro knew, led 
 to a side-door of the palace-like house of his fruit- 
 peddling days! 
 
 When the priest roused him from sleep, it was 
 almost dawn. The two rowed back to the church, 
 where the Father swore his helper to secrecy, 
 handing him half a silver medjidieh to help out 
 the oath. 
 
 These visits were repeated at frequent Inter- 
 vals, and, as the youth became more intimate with 
 his employer, he became less confiding with his 
 mother. Once the sophisticated Lambro went so 
 far as to nudge his Holiness in the ribs, asking 
 him why he had objected to his turning a Moslem 
 and marrying Fatma. The priest laughed. 
 
 " Wait until Fatma has to marry you, my 
 son; then you will be sure to get an obedient 
 wife." 
 
 Lambro's mother died unexpectedly the follow- 
 ing winter, and he was very melancholy, when one 
 day in the spring Father Dionisios was unusually 
 kind. He told Lambro how much he was inter- 
 ested in his future. A Turkish friend of his, 
 named Abdullah Bey, who held an important po- 
 sition as secretary of a Pasha In a big konak, 
 wanted an honest Christian boy for assistant, if 
 he would only embrace Islam. It was only a 
 mere form, Dionisios explained, and advised Lam- 
 bro not to let It stand in his way of preferment. 
 
A CAREER IN TURKDOM 67 
 
 To be sure, Abdullah Bey would not keep him 
 for a minute if he knew the story of his birth, 
 Dionisios told him, but he would never betray him, 
 of course. In return for all his kindness, the 
 priest said, he requested only a slight service from 
 his protege. Abdullah slept occasionally in the 
 Pasha's konak, where Lambro was to live regu- 
 larly. Would he send his benefactor a message 
 every time Abdullah Bey announced his intention 
 of not going home for the night? The young 
 fellow readily assented. His intimate acquaint- 
 ance with the priest had made him cynical in mat- 
 ters of religion, and the thought of Fatma flashed 
 through his mind. Who knew, perhaps 
 
 His new master was a good man, commanding 
 the respect of his associates, but rather ugly of 
 person. Usually he left his desk early in the 
 afternoon, but now and then his work piled up. 
 Then he would send Murad, — the name Lambro 
 had assumed in adopting Islam, — to order sup- 
 per for him and to prepare his bed in the adjoin- 
 ing room. The young assistant would slip down 
 the street to a Greek wine-shop and send 
 one of the bartenders to carry a flask of some 
 special liquor to Father Dionisios: this was the 
 signal the Moslem convert had arranged with the 
 Christian priest. 
 
 Murad's speculations as to the special interest 
 which led Father Dionisios to keep such close 
 track of Abdullah's whereabouts were simplified 
 and complicated one summer day. The Bey had 
 
68 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 bought a big basketful of rare Anatolian fruits, 
 and asked Murad to help him carry them home. 
 The young man was astonished to find that his 
 master's residence was the old familiar palace-like 
 house in Arnaut Keuy. Curiously enough, Ab- 
 dullah's wife pretended not to remember him, but 
 that did not prevent her from treating him most 
 hospitably. Fatma also entered the room; the 
 girl's beauty had grown only more luring, and 
 while she treated him freely, as if he were a 
 harmless boy and she a mere lassie, there was in 
 her attitude a voluptuous suggestiveness which 
 Murad could not misinterpret. For she knew he 
 had turned a Moslem. 
 
 Affairs continued thus for some time. One 
 afternoon Abdullah Bey had announced his inten- 
 tion of sleeping in the konak, and Murad had 
 duly despatched a messenger to Father Dionisios, 
 when a carriage arrived. A woman-slave en- 
 tered, informing the Bey that his daughter Fatma 
 had decided to buy that afternoon a precious gem 
 she had long contemplated purchasing, and waited 
 in the carriage for the money, Murad watched 
 his master count out a handful of liras to the 
 slave, after which he instructed her to wait for 
 Murad at the jeweller's on their way back. The 
 carriage rolled off. 
 
 Hardly had the Bey bent down to his work 
 again, when a strange man entered and engaged 
 him in some close conversation. The Bey's face 
 paled, his body trembled, and suddenly he turned 
 
A CAREER IN TURKDOM 69 
 
 to Murad and told him he was going directly 
 home. 
 
 " Going home ? '■' Murad cried out. A tone of 
 dismay was in his voice, and Abdullah's suspicions 
 were aroused. 
 
 " What is it to you if I go Home or not? " he 
 shouted at him. "What are you hiding from 
 me? Speak, or I'll cut you to pieces this 
 minute ! " 
 
 An ugly dagger soon extracted a full confes- 
 sion. The stranger laughed bitterly. 
 
 " I told you so, Abdullah Bey — ^you will not 
 find your hanoum waiting for you when you 
 reach your house." 
 
 The Bey shot out of the konak like a wild 
 beast, and the stranger followed. 
 
 Murad was left alone, stunned by the incident. 
 He saw ruin ahead of him, imprisonment, per- 
 haps worse. Suddenly his eyes caught sight of 
 the money-drawer, which Abdullah Bey, in his 
 excitement, had forgotten to lock. Greedily he 
 opened it: the glitter of the gold, the banknotes 
 of large denominations, held him fascinated for 
 a moment, and then a resistless idea struck him 
 like lightning. He emptied the drawer's wealth 
 into a small leather-bag, slipped out of the konak, 
 hailed a cabman, and drove to the jeweller's where 
 Fatma waited with her old nurse. A few words 
 enticed the voluptuous girl to enter his cab. On 
 the train westward, which they boarded at an 
 insignificant station outside of Constantinople, the 
 
70 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 conductor accepted a gold piece as a satisfactory 
 answer to his request for a traveling-permit. 
 
 But Abdullah Bey's money went faster than the 
 elopers had anticipated. Murad had to look 
 around. In upper Macedonia, where they finally 
 settled, a band of Albanian robbers periodically 
 sacked the Shar villages, paying a fraction of the 
 booty by way of tribute to the Turkish officials, 
 who allowed them free range. Murad now re- 
 membered his Albanian descent. The story of 
 his Moslem-fathered birth did not seem to lower 
 him in Fatma's eyes : she wove an Arabian night 
 of love around it, and a local rumor soon cred- 
 ited him with a most valiant Albanian ancestry. 
 He became a go-between, selling the robbers' 
 booty under the very nose of the government. 
 The robbers, thus accommodated, doubled their 
 activities, until finally the exasperated Bulgar na- 
 tives organized a posse of their own, and in a 
 clash somewhere In the upper reaches of the Var- 
 dar River the band was pretty well annihilated. 
 
 Then Murad's hour of destiny came. He in- 
 vited the vali of Uskub to dinner. Perhaps 
 Fatma was too modern, and more beautiful than 
 modest, that night, but before the vali left the 
 house her husband had been appointed the head 
 of a body of Turkish irregulars. Representing 
 the peasants' uprising as an organized revolt 
 against the Empire, Murad swept over the Shar 
 regions and proceeded to quiet the land. The 
 tastes of Turkish irregulars he quickly learned; 
 
A CAREER IN TURKDOM 71 
 
 he knew what Bashibozouks wanted; he had 
 found his chance. 
 
 The village of Presta had been the center of 
 the peasants' uprising. All the able-bodied men 
 were in the mountains. Murad entered Presta at 
 sundown — at sunup there was no Presta. 
 
 It was quick and simple work. Each soldier 
 picked his house: there were three hundred and 
 fifty of them. The old men and children were 
 killed on the spot; the women and girls bound 
 with their girdles and braids of long hair. The 
 houses were then systematically sacked and set 
 afire. About midnight, outside the village, Mu- 
 rad's Bashibozouks piled high their booty around 
 a huge campfire. The wails of the captives min- 
 gled sickeningly with the ribald jests and blood- 
 besotted riot of the Turkish gendarmerie. 
 
 The story of Presta reached Uskub; a garru- 
 lous tongue carried it to Constantinople. Obvi- 
 ously a strong man had appeared in the Shar 
 regions; the dispensers of honors in Turkdom 
 smiled on the efficient pacifier of Christian vil- 
 lages; Murad grew ambitious. A similar exploit 
 of his, with gruesome variations, stirred the Var- 
 dar valley near Veles. 
 
 About this time Essad Pasha of Goreno was 
 relieved of his ofiice " for lack of resolution." 
 Murad was obviously the sort of man needed, and 
 the next winter saw the one-time frult-peddler 
 established as Pasha In Goreno. 
 
 The sack of Presta and the pacification of the 
 
72 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 Veles district had started him on the road to af- 
 fluence ; his elevation to the pasha-rank made the 
 son of the Greek woman at once an epicure and 
 a hbertine. Fatma's jealousy kept him from in- 
 creasing his harem; but Abdullah's daughter aged 
 rapidly. The birth of her first long-expected son, 
 Selim, left her an old woman. Murad was ready 
 to neglect her for any red-cheeked peasant-girl 
 who chanced to pass his way. The Pasha of Go- 
 reno became a night-hawk, and at last Fatma's 
 old nurse made bold to advise her that four wives 
 were better than forty mistresses, and asked her 
 to think of her firstborn, whose father was squan- 
 dering all his substance in dissolute feasting. 
 
 Fatma had been the passionate mistress once, 
 the voluptuous wife ; she now became the adoring 
 mother. Murad's harem grew, and, with his in- 
 creased family duties, the Pasha of Goreno Im- 
 proved, if not In morals, at least In domesticity. 
 Occasional escapades, however, served to remind 
 Fatma that Murad the Pasha was as dissolute as 
 Murad the Nobody had been grasping. 
 
 But all that was years ago. Sixty-year-old Mu- 
 rad was an apple soft with decay, which pre- 
 served a thin surface of solidity only by the most 
 elaborate pomp and lordly mannerisms. The ex- 
 robber sought to convince himself of his undimin- 
 ished power by building new harems and planning 
 new prisons, but his wits were getting short. A 
 robber in his youth, a libertine In mid-life, Murad 
 vainly tried to be a local divinity in his old age. 
 He had used up his capital. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE PRIDE OF THE VAEDAR 
 
 AS Dobry's name was called, the Pasha 
 /-% cleared his throat and drew himself up 
 with self-importance. " Bring him in," he 
 called. 
 
 For a moment the Bulgar hesitated. He 
 looked keenly at the officers present, as he always 
 did when entering this room. In spite of the 
 very apparent friendliness of Murad Pasha, 
 Dobry could never forget the stories his father 
 had told him of men who had entered that room 
 and whom no one had seen come out. 
 
 His quick glance reassured him, however, and 
 his uneasiness vanished. He bowed low to the 
 Pasha. 
 
 " Allah keep your liver sweet this morning. 
 Pride of the Vardar," he recited. 
 
 Murad rubbed his tawny hands and nodded in 
 acknowledgment of his favorite compliment. 
 
 " It is well you have come at once, Dobry. 
 You suspect why you have been called. You 
 have heard the news?" 
 
 " I suspect npthing," Dobry answered, choos- 
 73 
 
74 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 ing his words. " I get my knowledge from good 
 sources. I await all news from yourself." 
 
 " You are your father's son in your speech," 
 Murad commented, and nodded to the zaptieh at 
 an inner door. It opened, and two guards es- 
 corted a much-bedraggled and shivering Mahmut, 
 and a Gani with two eyes bulging from between 
 the towels that wrapped his head like an Anato- 
 lian turban. Dobry could scarcely suppress a 
 smile at the manifest thoroughness of the wagon- 
 driver's make-up. 
 
 " Now, Mahmut, out with it. Tell me exactly 
 what happened." 
 
 Mahmut shifted his gaze uneasily from one to 
 another of the Turks sprawling over the divans. 
 That he was ashamed of something was doubly 
 apparent when he met Gani's contemptuous stare. 
 
 " It was a black night. Beloved of Allah," he 
 began, " and the Krividol Gulch was darker than 
 a dungeon after sunset. The road is wide enough 
 at first, but gets narrower and narrower as it 
 winds up the mountain, until there is just room 
 for a wagon and team. We zaptiehs had to di- 
 vide; six of us went in front and six wound up 
 the rear. When you reach the pass itself, the 
 cliff shoots up one side and a sheer precipice 
 shoots down the other." 
 
 " It is not quite that way, Pride of the Var- 
 dar," Gani interrupted. " I know that country like 
 the inside of my sandal. There is a ditch between 
 the road and the cliff. I know, because " 
 
THE PRIDE OF THE VARDAR 75 
 
 " Hold your tongue until you are asked, you 
 croaking bullfrog," Murad yarred at him. " Do 
 you presume to teach Murad Pasha the lay of 
 his own land? Go on, Mahmut." 
 
 A timely kick, administered by one of the 
 guards, assisted Gani to subside, 
 
 " If there is a ditch," Mahmut continued, " I 
 didn't see it, but I was one of the last in line and 
 on the side next the Gulch itself. We were hoping 
 the place was almost past, I heard Ismail Effendi 
 ask Gani how much farther it was. Gani— this 
 dog here. Beloved of Allah — answered, ' Just 
 around the bend and over the crest.' 
 
 " We were between two bends on a sort of 
 shelf, and I don't remember just how it hap- 
 pened, but all of a sudden I thought the whole 
 side of the cliff was falling over our heads. At 
 the same time a dozen rifles cracked out in front 
 of us and another dozen behind. 
 
 "We were caught. It was as clear a trap as 
 you could imagine. We had our rifles ready, of 
 course, just as orders had been, but it's hard to 
 take aim in the dark behind you when you can't 
 turn your horse's head. Ismail, who was just in 
 front of me, turned too quickly and I saw him 
 and his horse go over the precipice together, 
 
 " It gave me an idea, and I slid off and let my 
 mare take care of herself. She was one of the 
 first to get shot, and almost crushed me when she 
 fell. Meanwhile the firing kept up in front and 
 some dozen or two dozen men rushed up behind. 
 
76 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 It was no use. We yelled and cursed and fought 
 like the Prophet's own soldiery, but they shot the 
 horses from under us. 
 
 " How I escaped, Pasha, only Allah can tell. 
 The wagon began to back on us. I saw it coming. 
 The lanterns were dancing up and down. I waited 
 until I saw two of the robbers jump to the seat. 
 Beloved of Allah, they had fezes on, and the rag- 
 and-bag of Ottoman deserters ! It was plainly a 
 band from the Uskub troops. Akiff Pasha does 
 not pay his men regularly as you do, and they 
 must have been hungry for plunder. 
 
 " I can fight any pack of Christian dogs, Pasha, 
 I can; but what could one man do against Os- 
 manli soldiery? I lay where I was, pretending I 
 was dead, slipped away as soon as I could and 
 ran here at top speed." 
 
 " How did it happen, when you were to start 
 early in the morning, that you did not reach the 
 pass until night? " 
 
 It was Dobry who asked the question. The 
 Pasha looked at Gani. 
 
 " Answer that, you lazy-horned spawn of a 
 snail," he cursed him. "Weren't my orders to 
 you to leave here an hour after daybreak? " 
 
 " They were. Pride of the Yardar," Ganl 
 wailed, " and my old woman waked me up long 
 before it was light, but when Ismail Effendi led 
 the horses to be harnessed, he lost his temper and 
 lamed the white one with blows. We had to find 
 another that would pull with the black horse, and 
 the only one we could get was balky. He broke 
 
THE PRIDE OF THE VARDAR 77 
 
 the wagon an hour out of here, and the sun was 
 shining on the west wheels before we started 
 on. 
 
 Murad Pasha swore in guttural Albanian. 
 
 " And you, you spoiled egg of a scarecrow," he 
 turned once more to Gani, " why didn't you fol- 
 low your balky horses? How did you drag your 
 carcass here?" 
 
 Gani was almost sobbing. 
 
 "When I yelled and cursed for help, one of 
 the ruffians gave me this." 
 
 He touched his nose with a grimace and swung 
 around the room, so that all the Turks could ob- 
 serve for their own benefit. The ruse was suc- 
 cessful. It broke the serious tenseness of the situ- 
 ation, and the Ottomans roared at the sorry 
 plight of the wagon-driver. 
 
 " I found myself in the ditch," Gani continued, 
 " and stayed there until they were all gone. What 
 can one man do against Osmanli soldiers, when 
 he has a broken nose at that, Pride of the Var- 
 dar?" 
 
 " Where did the robbers go ? " one of the 
 Turks asked. 
 
 "The soldiers, you mean?" Gani inquired. 
 " I don't know, Effendi ; it was so dark. Some- 
 where up the mountain, I suppose, or else down 
 the pass and out into the valley, or else perhaps 
 on the road to Uskub, or perchance " 
 
 Murad Pasha waved an impatient hand. 
 " Take this chunk of meat out of here," he beck- 
 oned to the guards. 
 
78 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 " Now, Dobry Chorbadji," the Pasha began, 
 "you see how it was. What is to be done? " 
 
 " I should say," Dobry answered slowly, " find 
 the thieves." 
 
 "Of course, but how?" 
 
 " They are Turkish soldiers, Mahmut says." 
 
 " They spoke Turkish and looked like sol- 
 diers," the zaptieh put in. 
 
 " Oh, deserters, I suppose," the Pasha mut- 
 tered, " who want to fill their bean-lined stomachs 
 with roast goose." 
 
 Dobry thought intently for a moment. 
 
 " Murad Pasha," he said at length, " this loss 
 is not yours only, it is ours as well. The year 
 has been dry, there is not a piaster to spare in 
 the whole country around. Yet the Pasha must 
 have money." 
 
 Murad nodded ready assent. 
 
 " The peasants will fear other taxes." The 
 Pasha grunted scornfully. 
 
 " They will move heaven and earth to get the 
 robbers," Dobry concluded. 
 
 Murad leaned forward. It was a new idea — 
 that of cooperation with the Bulgars. 
 
 "What do you mean?" he asked eagerly. 
 
 " Let us form a posse among ourselves and 
 scour the country. I can get men who know 
 every inch of the mountain-land. The peasants 
 hold Priest Azarias as an uncle. We can have 
 him swear in every man of them and find out 
 exactly what he knows." 
 
 "But would they?" 
 
THE PRIDE OF THE VARDAR 79 
 
 "Would they have meat to eat when the cold 
 freezes their blood? They will never rest until 
 the money is safe in Uskub." 
 
 "And who will do this?" 
 "Well," Dobry considered carefully, "there is 
 Stoyan the Chandler, and Croom Dobreff and 
 his brother " 
 
 " Enough I " the Pasha Interrupted, " lead 
 these out, and I'll have Torgut EfEendi and Mid- 
 hat Effendi and — and Jemil Effendi." 
 
 Dobry rose to go, 
 
 " Oh," Murad stopped him, " you did not men- 
 tion one fellow, and he is the craftiest of your 
 whole Christian lot: Stavry, the money-changer. 
 He can smell gold as far as Aleppo." 
 
 Dobry was taken aback. So far the plan had 
 worked splendidly. The Turks selected were like 
 unto Murad Pasha, mushroom-headed libertines. 
 But hawk-eyed Stavry, the money-lender, was a 
 different character. His crafty treachery had 
 been a constant source of anxiety to the group 
 which met at Dobry's studio. 
 
 "Ye-es," he admitted, "but Stavry is a busy 
 man. Perhaps he wouldn't go — wouldn't want to, 
 I mean ^" 
 
 He had touched a wrong chord. 
 
 " Who tells Murad Pasha ' I will ' or ' I will 
 not'?" the Pride of the Vardar interrupted 
 haughtily. " The old money-changer goes with 
 the posse 1 " 
 
 Dobry bowed himself out . 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 MANIO DREAMS OF OPULENCE 
 
 TO accompany Dobry's posse, Murad Pasha 
 had chosen three Turks as short-witted as 
 himself, and an idiotic fortnight followed. 
 Dobry was thorough in examining every deaf and 
 dumb cripple in the mountain-land, and Priest 
 Azarias performed elaborate ceremonies of 
 " swearing in " the peasantry at every cross- 
 road. Day by day they looked for traces of the 
 Turkish soldiers who had robbed the tax-wagon. 
 Barring Stavry, the Goreno men were tireless in 
 their zeal, but the patience of the Turks was well- 
 nigh exhausted. 
 
 They had clambered down the steep goat-path 
 along the Pirin slopes, and their horses were wait- 
 ing for them down the valley, some three hours 
 distant by weary foot. But Dobry insisted on 
 improving the remainder of the day by walking 
 over to the Seven Well-springs sheep-sheds. He 
 was sure Uncle Tosho might be able to give in- 
 formation about the thieving soldiery. 
 
 " Are you going to drag us to another muddle- 
 head?" Torgut Effendi growled. "These 
 
 80 
 
MANIO DREAMS OF OPULENCE 8i 
 
 stupids know nothing, and I am tired of their 
 drivel." 
 
 " It is as the Pasha commands," Dobry pled. 
 " We have not missed a single woodshed. We 
 must continue to proceed in our advance," and 
 the Goreno men wisely agreed. 
 
 " But how much longer? " Stavry put in. " I've 
 left my business a-chasing me over these hillsides. 
 To look at you, Dobry, one would think you had 
 organized a walking-club ! " 
 
 "It isn't so bad though, is It now?" MIdhat 
 EfFendi simpered, humming a gay, little air. " I 
 didn't know what called the soldiers up to these 
 villages so often. There are more plump quail 
 around here than I have seen in a whole year in 
 town. The town-game either keep too much 
 under cover or aren't worth the bother." He 
 started humming: 
 
 " O Aisha, Aisha, blooming blossom 1 " 
 
 Dobry cut him short. 
 
 " That roof a little below us is old Tosho's hut. 
 We will stop there and perhaps at the little ham- 
 let beyond, then go a-horse Into town. That 
 covers our route; we'll have to think up some 
 other way for next week." 
 
 " You can think me out," Torgut EfFendi 
 snapped. " Murad Pasha has harems enough for 
 all of me. I'm busy with my own." 
 
 They passed out of the pine-grove that hid 
 
82 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 Tosho's hut and sheep-sheds, and into the clear- 
 ing above. As they did so, two men in peasant- 
 garb went through the back gate and took the 
 upland trail. Stoyan the Chandler looked studi- 
 ously off toward the valley. Dobry engaged the 
 Turks in lively discussion. Only Stavry seemed 
 to notice. 
 
 "There go two fellows up the mountain. I 
 wonder if we shall have to chase them down be- 
 fore we leave." 
 
 Croom Dobreff looked at them casually. 
 
 " Two shepherds of Tosho's, I suppose," he 
 said. " But say, Stavry, did you know that young 
 Selim Bey is looking for a loan and offering sev- 
 enteen per cent to the right person? " 
 
 Stavry crossed himself quickly. 
 
 " May holy Saint Panteleimon preserve me 
 from generous borrowers ! " he exclaimed. 
 " Selim Bey would make me wealthy too soon! " 
 
 The two men going up the mountain had dis- 
 appeared in the thick undergrowth. Croom saw 
 them give quick glances downward and take a 
 twisting, half-obscured side path. 
 
 Uncle Tosho sat on a bench in the sunny court- 
 yard, smoking his pipe and directing Manio the 
 watchman in his clumsy attempts at mending a 
 cart-wheel. Yana knitted in the doorway, and 
 through the open window came the buzz of a 
 spinning-wheel and a girl's clear voice keeping 
 time. As the Turks entered the gateway, Yana 
 spoke' in a sharp undertone. Irina's head ap- 
 
MANIO DREAMS OF OPULENCE 83 
 
 peared an instant at the casement, then vanished 
 and the wheel was still. Tosho rose and Manio 
 dropped his work to listen. 
 
 " You are a long way from town, friends," 
 Tosho said, " and look tired. Yana, bring out 
 some fresh buttermilk." 
 
 " You might add some bread and cheese, and 
 maybe some little cold slices, with a pretty one 
 to serve them, if you have a pretty one handy," 
 Midhat drawled. 
 
 Tosho glanced at him in alarm, then question- 
 ingly at his fellow countrymen. Dobry did the 
 explaining : 
 
 " It is about the tax-money. Uncle Tosho. We 
 are the investigating committee and have stopped 
 here to learn if you or any of the shepherds heard 
 or saw any signs of the Turkish soldiers that did 
 the stealing?" 
 
 " Not the ghost of a sign," Uncle Tosho re- 
 plied eagerly. " It has been just as quiet as " 
 
 " Has it though ! " Manio had been edging 
 his way nearer the center. " Hasn't there been 
 the ghost of a sign I I tell you, masters, this 
 place has fairly swarmed with ghosts since All- 
 hallowmas." 
 
 The Turks pricked up their ears. 
 
 "What kind of ghosts?" Jemil Effendi asked 
 sharply. 
 
 " Why, there was the two-headed horse I saw 
 down by the gate, and, saving your honor, I hope 
 it wasn't a Turk, and the monk-maiden by the 
 
84 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 Sweetheart's Well-spring, and the treasure " 
 
 " Ho, but you saw all those spooks when you 
 were drunk, Manio," Tosho laughed. " Besides, 
 two-headed horses and dead girls don't carry off 
 tax-money." 
 
 " But there are the treasure-hunters," Manio 
 insisted. " They carry off more bread and cheese 
 than any two human stomachs could hold in a six- 
 month." 
 
 " Manio is the most superstitious old codger 
 in the whole district," Dobry explained, as Yana 
 came out, bringing a pitcher of cold buttermilk, 
 some bread, and slices of roast lamb. " Father 
 Azarias, swear Uncle Tosho in." 
 
 " My son Tosho," the priest began pompously, 
 " by the long-suffering Saint Stephen and by the 
 benignant Saint Mitrophan " 
 
 " Aw, shut up," Torgut swore at him. " That 
 clap-trap is about worn out. Here, Yana, or 
 whatever they call you, bring on that litter. I'm 
 .hungry as a wolf." 
 
 Manio slunk toward the edge of the group, 
 muttering his opinions to himself. 
 
 " Young upstarts can put it over graybeards if 
 they want"j but I know what I saw. And I know 
 the ghost of old Petko over the ridge did steal 
 away a money-bag from his son and nobody ever 
 found it. I think that is what these treasure- 
 hunters are looking for. It's their digging makes 
 them so hungry. And they're finding something, 
 else where do they get the piasters to pay 
 
MANIO DREAMS OF OPULENCE 85 
 
 Uncle Tosho for their bread and cheese?" 
 
 The words " piasters to pay Uncle Tosho " 
 caught Stavry's greedy ears. He had been con- 
 sidering the general prosperous air of Tosho's 
 establishment in surprise and speculation. Per- 
 haps it would be well to have a little conversa- 
 tion with Manio. He followed the night-watch- 
 man away from the rest. 
 
 " What was that you said about treasure- 
 hunters?" he asked insinuatingly. Manio bright- 
 ened and drew himself up with an important 
 air at being consulted by such a person as 
 Stavry. 
 
 " They are up in the mountains somewhere," 
 he explained. " They have been down twice now; 
 I listened while they talked to Uncle Tosho. I 
 heard enough. They've located a big pile some- 
 where: diamonds as big as duck-eggs, I imagine, 
 and perhaps all the gold and silver coins of the 
 Archbishop with the Flying Sandals. They want 
 to keep the haul all to themselves, the greedy 
 hogs, and won't let anyone else go in with them, 
 but I imagine they pay Uncle Tosho whatever he 
 asks when it comes to supplies. Why, just before 
 you people came, they handed him a whole hand- 
 ful of piasters. They must be shoveling them in 
 up there in the mountains ! " 
 
 " How many times have they been here, did 
 you say? " 
 
 Manio's strange tale wakened Stavry's curiosity. 
 Evidently this was no goblin yarn. 
 
86 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 " When did they come first? " 
 
 " Come to think of it, that was on Allhallow- 
 mas, too." Manio came closer. " That night 
 two Turkish soldiers knocked. I saw the uniform 
 and hid behind Yana's butter-tub, for I don't 
 monkey around Turks. When we shepherds see 
 those clothes, we don't feel any curiosity about 
 what is inside. We've seen too much of their 
 kind. I could see all that went on, though. When 
 the soldiers asked for something to eat, Tosho 
 gave them anything they wanted. They were so 
 decent about it I suspected something, so peeped 
 out and saw the face of one of the fellows in a 
 good light. He had his head turned away from 
 the rest. 
 
 " Well, Chorbadji, when I saw one of those 
 treasure-hunters to-day I knew him in a minute. 
 He was that very same Turkish soldier I " 
 
 Stavry gripped Manio's arm. 
 
 " Do you mean," he hissed, " that those treas- 
 ure-hunters were in Turkish uniform, and it was 
 on Allhallowmas?" 
 
 " Why, sure ! " Manio wriggled away, rub- 
 bing his arm. " I think that was the night they 
 located the treasure. All kinds of goblins were 
 out and old Petko's ghost " 
 
 " Manio," Stavry interrupted, " how would you 
 like to get a little of that treasure yourself? " 
 
 " That Is my idea." The old man's face flamed 
 with eagerness. " That is exactly my idea, Chor- 
 badji. But I can't do much alone. I know the 
 
MANIO DREAMS OF OPULENCE 87 
 
 country, but those fellows will be too much for 
 an old man like me." 
 
 " Listen," Stdvry commanded. " Forget you 
 Have a tongue and go on about your business as 
 usual. I'm rather interested in this treasure my- 
 self. What do you say to our going after it to- 
 gether?" 
 
 "You and me? I'll do it, Chorbadji." The 
 watchman quivered with nervous excitement. 
 "When shall we begin?" 
 
 " I'll let you know. In the meantime, Keep ab- 
 solutely mum. Not a word till I tell you, or you 
 don't get a piaster's worth." 
 
 " Yes, yes, not a word, Chorbadji." 
 
 " Just one thing more. Manio, how far is it 
 from here to Krividol Gulch?" 
 
 " It's a good five hours by the road," the shep- 
 herd calculated, "but only about three if you 
 know the path over the mountains. Why? " 
 
 " No reason," and Stavry moved nonchalantly 
 toward the others. 
 
 " Been hearing more gHost-yarnsT " Dobry 
 asked, handing him a glass of milK. 
 
 " Oh, yes," Stavry answered. " The old fellow 
 is as chock-full of them as Granny Marya herself. 
 Are we about ready to start? " 
 
 Dobry't- distrust was quieted. "Going in a 
 few minutes," he said. 
 
 Manio went to the b'arn with his head in a 
 whirl. At last He was to be his own master. He 
 gave the Half-mended cart-wheel a contemptuous 
 
88 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 kick as he passed, filled his pipe, and, stretching 
 himself on a pile of straw in a sunny spot where 
 he was pretty sure Uncle Tosho wouldn't notice 
 him, fell to dreaming of coming days of opulence. 
 
 The posse, satisfied as to their stomachs, gath- 
 ered up their coats and made ready to go down 
 the trail toward town. They were weary of their 
 fruitless search and anxious to be back. The three 
 Turks looked on Dobry and his entire scheme with 
 supreme contempt. 
 
 Out of sight of the yard, Stavry stopped with 
 an exclamation. 
 
 "What is it? " Croom asked. 
 
 " Forgotten my long coat," he answered. " I'll 
 have to go back. You go on ; I'll catch up." 
 
 " I'll go back with you," Croom volunteered. 
 
 " There is no need of that," Stavry assured 
 him. " I know the way." 
 
 Since he could not insist on the basis of inti- 
 macy, Croom was forced to leave him and move 
 on. Stavry climbed rapidly until the others had 
 passed around the bend, then walked slowly on, 
 lost in thought. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 stavry's coat 
 
 WE'LL have to send Manio back where 
 he came from," old Tosho was saying 
 to Yana. " The greedy old sinner has 
 had his money-ears opened by those two boys 
 who come here. He saw them pay me for the 
 bread and cheese this morning." 
 
 " I wish we knew a little more about them," 
 Yana worried, the wrinkles in her face deepen- 
 ing in her anxiety. " I wish Ivan were back 
 here." 
 
 " Ivan ought to come home and get him a 
 wife," Tosho said. " I'm getting too old to last 
 much longer." *' 
 
 " Oh, you're good for many' a year yet, Uncle 
 Tosho." 
 
 The old couple started in alarm at the unex- 
 pectedness of the remark. Stavry had come up 
 so quietly that neither had noticed his approach. 
 
 "What is wrong?" the shepherd queried. 
 
 " I left my coat here," Stavry answered. 
 " The others think I forgot it. I have a little 
 matter of business to talk over with you pri- 
 
 89 
 
90 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 vately, Uncle Tosho. Is there some place " 
 
 " Of course," but Tosho lacked enthusiasm. 
 " Go in the house, Yana." 
 
 The old woman gathered up Her Knitting and 
 went inside. She shut the door, but the window 
 remained only half-closed, for Yana trusted 
 Stavry even less than did Tosho. 
 
 " Before we come to our business. Uncle 
 Tosho," Stavry began, " I want to tell you a 
 little story I heard once in Salonica." 
 
 "A short story? Go ahead." 
 
 " There was a prosperous mefrchant by thd 
 name of Ivanoff, — on good terms with every- 
 body, and very influential among the Bulgarians. 
 Not at all an unconnected shepherd like you, for 
 example, Uncle Tosho." 
 
 "Well ?" 
 
 " Well, one day an old friend of Ivanoff's — 
 his name was Stavry, just like mine — came to 
 his store and invited him to the konak. ' You 
 are lucky,' he said to him, ' the Pasha has heard 
 how the Bulgars respect you, and wants to have 
 a cup of coffee with you.' So Ivanoff cleaned up 
 and followed his friend to the Pasha's. 
 
 "They had hardly come into the large room 
 of the konak, though, when the Pasha, without 
 so much as lifting his head, asked in a sour 
 voice : ' Is this the man you spoke of, Stavry 
 Effendi?' 
 
 " ' This is the same, Allah preserve you, 
 Pasha,' Ivanoff's old friend answered; and be- 
 
STAVRY'S COAT 91 
 
 fore the poor merchant could look from right to 
 left or say a word, two zaptiehs grabbed his 
 arms and hustled him out of the room into the 
 ^owfl^-cellar. 
 
 " It was all a mistake? Ivanoff wasn't a crim- 
 inal of any sort? Maybe not, but he had to 
 soak in that damp cellar for seventeen months 
 before his case came up for trial. And when he 
 did come up, he found that his big store had 
 been confiscated and sold for a song to Stavry, 
 and that if he made the least outcry about it, 
 he'd pay another visit to the konak-ceWar. That's 
 what happened to the rich, influential merchant 
 Ivanoff, who was not at all an unconnected and 
 unimportant shepherd like you, Uncle Tosho. 
 Can you remember this story? " 
 
 "Well, what about it?" Tosho queried. 
 
 " Now, Uncle Tosho, I'd like to ask you tf 
 few questions," Stavry continued with a friendly 
 smile. " Wasn't it just before AUhallowmas 
 your Ivan went to Goreno and hasn't come back 
 since?" , 
 
 " Ye-es," Tosho answered wonderlngly. 
 
 " And wasn't it that same night that two Turk- 
 ish soldiers stopped here for food; and aren't 
 Turkish soldiers supposed to have robbed the 
 Pasha's taxes that night; and haven't some 
 treasure-seekers been coming here for food the 
 last week or so; and doesn't your Ivan know 
 something about these treasure-seekers? 
 
 " I say, Tosho," Stavry leaned very close and 
 
92 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 watched the old man keenly, " has it ever oc- 
 curred to you that those Turkish soldiers looked 
 exactly like the treasure-seekers who have been 
 coming here? " 
 
 Uncle Tosho leaped to his feet and shook 
 Stavry's hand in alarm. Old Yana's face ap- 
 peared at the window for a fleeting instant, al- 
 most wild in its anxiety. 
 
 " And if all this is true," the old man stut- 
 tered, "what then, Stavry? I — I don't say it 
 is — I never thought of it so — but what then?" 
 
 " Don't get excited, Tosho," Stavry said 
 quietly. " We've lived through a great many 
 things together, you and I. We're both Bulgars, 
 and it is nothing to me more than it is to you 
 whether Murad Pasha has the money to build 
 another harem or not; but I learned some things 
 a little while ago that made some other things a 
 good deal clearer. I know all about the meet- 
 ings of Dobry and Ivan and Croom and the rest, 
 though I haven't been invited for a long time. 
 And I know, too, that when your Ivan goes to 
 the city he doesn't always get there, and when 
 he does he Isn't haunting the market-place. 
 Maybe you haven't been In that two-legged house 
 of Dobry's, but I have, and your Ivan could tell 
 you a good bit about the arrangements of it, too. 
 Dobry hoodwinks Murad Pasha, but I know the 
 tricks of him and his breed." 
 
 Tosho listened in silence. Confused impres- 
 sions over which he had pondered, remarks he 
 
STAVRY'S COAT 93 
 
 had heard from his son began to take on clear 
 form. His heart beat rapidly; life-long dreams 
 of his father and father's father thrilled him 
 anew. 
 
 " Gani was the driver of that wagon," Stavry 
 kept on, " and Gani never fails to be present at 
 Dobry's meetings. There is a deal of talk, but 
 you and I will come down to facts, Tosho. We 
 may or may not be in sympathy with these plans 
 for revolution; we may know it needs money; 
 but we ourselves have to live, and two hundred 
 thousand piasters don't come into our reach every 
 day, hey? " 
 
 Were Stavry's half hints so unintelligible to 
 Tosho's simple way of thinking, or was the old 
 shepherd only pretending not to understand? 
 
 " I don't just get what you are driving at, 
 Stavry," he said in a puzzled voice, taking off 
 his sheepskin cap and scratching his gray, stubby 
 hair. " Tell me plainly what you mean and 
 what you want." 
 
 Stavry studied the stones on the court-pave- 
 ment for a moment, then rested his right hand 
 on the top of his cane and kept time to his slow 
 words with an emphatic forefinger. 
 
 " On AUhallowmas night, Dobry Vladimiroff, 
 Stoyan the Chandler, Croom Dobreff, and some 
 dozen others, with your Ivan among them, dis- 
 guised as Turkish soldiers, stopped and robbed 
 Murad Pasha's tax-wagon and killed all the 
 guards but one, Mahmut. Some of them are 
 
94 . PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 hiding with the treasure in the mountains and 
 waiting for the storm to blow over; the rest are 
 in Goreno playing the innocent, while the leaders 
 have cheated Murad into sending them from 
 village to village as this posse," 
 
 Tosho staggered back. 
 
 " My son Ivan — all that money ! Holy Saint 
 Petka and Saint Nedelia — Stavry, do you know 
 what you are saying?" 
 
 Yana had forgotten her caution and was lean- 
 ing over the window-sill, crossing herself and 
 mumbling her prayers. Her teeth chattered, her 
 lips were bloodless and trembling. 
 
 " Don't play the innocent with me now, 
 Tosho," Stavry spoke 'sternly. " I know you 
 are in with this crowd, else why should these 
 treasure-seekers be coming here? Now, since I 
 have found you out and could lose the whole 
 business for you, suppose you just let me in on 
 it too. One more to divide with won't make 
 such a lot of difference." 
 
 The red spots on the old man's face grew 
 purple. At last he understood his man. His 
 eyes blazed. 
 
 "So that is the coat you forgot?" he said in 
 a low, tense voice. " That's the sort of Bul- 
 gar you are! Let me tell you this: I don't 
 know one single thing of which you speak. 
 I give those treasure-hunters, food because 
 they pay for It. Farther than this I do not 
 know." 
 
STAVRY'S COAT 95 
 
 " Come, come, Tosho, can't you really see? 
 Either you give me my share of the money, or 
 I tell the whole affair to Murad Pasha." 
 
 The old man's body quivered with uncontroll- 
 able rage. He shook his fist in the townsman's 
 face. 
 
 " You damnable, greedy hound," he hissed. 
 " It isn't enough to sell a wood-cutter's axe out 
 of his hands to pay a debt he has paid you twice 
 over in interest; it isn't enough to tear a widow's 
 shirt off her back, and drive a white-haired man, 
 with one foot already in the grave, out of his 
 home and sell it for half-price to his enemy, just 
 to settle your crooked accounts. No, you'd be- 
 tray your own flesh and blood to satisfy your 
 avarice. But you'll pay for it! You'll pay for 
 itl" 
 
 He advanced nearer and nearer Stavry. The 
 other backed away from the threatening fist, 
 slipping, sliding over the courtyard stones. Still 
 old Tosho advanced, lavishing all his pent-up vo- 
 cabulary on his departing visitor : 
 
 " You misbegotten whelp of a wild hog, you 
 jaw-of-an-ass and viper's tongue, you seventeen 
 kinds of a sneaky lizard crawling over a village 
 dungheap, you stinking cockroach of a money- 
 lender, you Turkish bootlicking hypocrite, you 
 smiling swill-bucket of rottenness, you " 
 
 Stavry had reached the gate and backed him- 
 self out. There for the first time he turned 
 from the irate old shepherd and hurried down 
 
96 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 the road. At a safe distance he turned once 
 more and called back: 
 
 " You can shake your fist now, Tosho. Mine 
 is of a different brand. It rnay lead, not drive 
 you out the gate." 
 
 He waved his cane vindictively and limped 
 down the road. Yana ran out and clasped 
 Tosho's arm in silent despair. 
 
 " It's all right, old woman, it's all right," he 
 reassured her, but his voice shook uncertainly. 
 
 The posse had reached the village long before 
 Stavry entered. Dobry was just finishing a late 
 supper when the money-lender's cane knocked at 
 the heavy gate. 
 
 " I'd like to talk to you for a minute in the 
 studio, Dobry," he said. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 " Turk's head " and a sleeve of water 
 
 HAD the keenest human eye perred its 
 hardest from the edge of the "Turk's 
 Head" cliff that moonless Saturday 
 near-morning in mid-November, it could have 
 seen nothing but elusive mist and filmy desola- 
 tion all about. But a sharp ear, used to the one 
 hundred and seventeen sounds of a wild forest, 
 could have distinguished a strange undertone in 
 the early morning song of the Pirin mountain- 
 land. A Balkan woodsman would have confused 
 the rhythmic beat with the dull thumpy thud of 
 a woodpecker; a Turkish fisherman might have 
 mistaken the single splash-and-feather sound for 
 the work of some ambitious lunatic, braving the 
 Struma narrows ^lone for the sake of a moun- 
 tain trout. But no eye. Christian or Moslem, 
 watched the riyer's course from the "Turk's 
 Head" cliff and no ear listened on that foggy 
 morning in November. Only the Struma felt 
 the sweeping paddle of Ivan the Huntsman's 
 boat. 
 
 The Struma River, a day's journey to the west 
 97 
 
98 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 from Goreno and the Ladna valley, runs in a 
 general southward direction, until it encounters 
 at the end of the Krividol Gulch a barrier of ar- 
 rogant rock, which checks its headlong flight and 
 turns it back northward for a week's wandering 
 about the gullies of the mountains, until finally 
 it eels its way through the "Turk's Head" nar- 
 rows and speeds toward the plains and the White 
 ^gean Sea. 
 
 Only the skill of a boatman-born, combined 
 with an intimate knowledge of that wild region, 
 could have lent the courage to undertake what 
 Ivan the Huntsman was undertaking. The fogs 
 hung low and heavy over the zig-zaggy course of 
 the Struma River, veiling the outline of the steep 
 banks on either side In ominous mist. The night 
 mated dark rock and darker water in one indis- 
 tinct expanse — an elemental marriage that for- 
 bade all intrusion. Overhead the sheer cliffs, 
 stretching across the water, seemed almost to 
 touch each other, and filmy cloud-knots of heavy 
 fog turned out to be rocks that grazed the light 
 boat menacingly. 
 
 Once a rasping whirr that almost upset the 
 craft left Ivan surveying soberly a leaky bow. 
 He jammed it tight with a bit of packing and a 
 tattered rag of shirt-sleeve, and paddled on. As 
 he rounded the shoals beyond " Turk's Head," a 
 crash overhead made him start with apprehen- 
 sion, and he barely swung around to safety when 
 a boulder rolled over the scalp of the cliff and 
 
"TURK'S HEAD" 99 
 
 splashed with an angry gurgle into the black 
 depths a few feet to the left. 
 
 But in all the elusive, ominous sweep of hostile 
 nature, there was no sign of human presence, and 
 Ivan paddled ahead, cautious but unafraid. The 
 twists and turns of the Struma River were as 
 familiar to him as his coat-sleeves. 
 
 The hardy boat was in fact an argosy. One- 
 half of the Krividol affair booty was in gold — 
 one thousand Turkish pounds; the rest was in 
 silver medjidiehs and some copper coins. To 
 transport the small moneys into Bulgaria was 
 out of the question: they would have made a load 
 too heavy and too conspicuous to avoid detec- 
 tion, and, even if they crossed the border in 
 safety, it would have been impracticable to use 
 the small Turkish coin in Bulgaria. But gold 
 knows no political allegiance and commands 
 market prices anywhere. 
 
 For this reason three of Ivan's intimate shep- 
 herd friends carried the treasure to one of their 
 mountain rendezvous, and a fortnight after the 
 capture they divided the money into several loads. 
 The silver and copper coins they apportioned 
 among the several heroes of the incident, whose 
 duty was to exchange them for gold as promptly 
 and as unobtrusively as possible. But the thou- 
 sand golden liras were entrusted to Ivan the 
 Huntsman, to be removed to a point far away 
 and concealed in safety until the remainder of 
 the booty had been changed into gold and the 
 
100 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 whole amount could be transported to Bulgaria, 
 to buy arms and ammunition for the Goreno 
 revolutionary district. 
 
 To carry it overland to the part of the forest 
 Ivan had selected was to run the risk of meeting 
 some wandering band, and the only boat avail- 
 able was too small to hold the combined weight 
 of the gold and two men. Yet who could brave 
 the Struma River rapids alone unless he could 
 see his way ahead? 
 
 Ivan the Huntsman thought of a wild summer 
 spent on the highland waters of Syno Lake; a 
 broken oar had compelled him to learn paddling 
 in order to make his way out of the wilds. 
 
 The extra oar on the small boat was speedily 
 cut down to the shape of a paddle; and with the 
 precious treasure-bags aboard, Ivan pulled lus- 
 tily at the oars and vanished around the Krividol 
 bend of the Struma. As the river began to speed 
 down towards the dangerous narrows, he put the 
 oars aside, turned so as to face ahead, and started 
 paddling. 
 
 Dawn was near when he left the main course 
 of the river and turned Into a narrow sleeve of 
 water that seemed to lose itself in the for- 
 est of dark taciturn pine and whispering birch. 
 He landed at a nature-made pier in the cleft be- 
 tween two rocks, tied the boat to a pine tree 
 whose roots sprawled over the stones in search 
 of soil, and plunged into the dense woods, toting 
 the heavy bag of gold, a large piece of burlap, 
 
"TURK'S HEAD" loi 
 
 a crow-bar, and a stout, sharp-pointed spade. 
 Two minutes' walk brought him to a small clear- 
 ing in the woods, monopolized by a magnificent 
 old pine, forked at the base of the trunk. He 
 stopped, laid down his treasure-load, and sur- 
 veyed the forest land in the immediate vicinity. 
 
 The trees were mostly pine and young birch, 
 with here and there an oak. But Ivan's trained 
 woodsman eye required only a brief search to 
 discover the sort of thing he sought. Some forty 
 paces beyond the forked pine-giant, in the same 
 general direction he had followed in coming up 
 from the Struma bank, he found a beech tree, 
 the only one of its kind within twice as large a 
 radius around the pine. A couple of feet from 
 it, at the foot of a birch too dwarfed and dis- 
 torted ever to fear the woodcutter's axe, ' Ivan 
 saw a heavy boulder. Apparently it was just 
 what he had been seeking, for he returned for 
 his load and got down to work immediately. 
 
 The rock clung obstinately to its place, but 
 after some effort, Ivan succeeded in wedging his 
 crowbar underneath and pushing the boulder 
 against the birch trunk. Then, spreading out 
 his burlap, he began to dig a hole in the center 
 of the hollow under the stone, piling the dirt 
 onto the burlap. When the cloth was half-cov- 
 ered with the rich brown earth, Ivan tied the 
 money sack around and around with some heavy 
 twine he carried, lined the hole with small peb- 
 bles to protect the leather bag, and deposited his 
 
102 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 rich cargo on top. He packed as much of the 
 dirt as he could tight around it and then carefully 
 pushed the boulder back into its place. Barring 
 the small remaining pile of dirt on his burlap, 
 not a single mark of his work was left. 
 
 Without marking birch or beech tree in any 
 way, he walked back to the directly opposite side 
 of the giant pine in the center of the small clear- 
 ing, and stopped at one tree after another until 
 he finally found a very young oak from which he 
 could look through the cloven pine-trunk and get 
 a clear view of the solitary beech and dwarfed 
 birch on the other side of the clearing. Ivan 
 blazed the young oak prominently with a cross- 
 mark, and walked from it to the forked pine, — 
 thirty-two paces ; then from the pine to the beech 
 tree, forty-one paces. Writing down both figures 
 in a note-book, he gathered up the pile of dirt 
 on the burlap cloth and carried it a long dis- 
 tance off into some thick brushwood. He came 
 back, picked up crowbar and spade, looked about 
 to see that he had left no traces of his work, and 
 walked back to the water; then, untying the boat, 
 he paddled out of the river-sleeve and into the 
 main bed of the Struma. 
 
 Another half-hour of paddling, and his eye 
 caught the outline of another similar sleeve, this 
 time to the left. Here the Struma was nearing 
 the open country, and the bank was less rocky. 
 Ivan paddled off toward the middle of the river, 
 bound the two bars tight to the heavy crowbar, 
 
"TURK'S HEAD" 103 
 
 and dropped them into the black water. He 
 entered the sleeve, landed, pulled the improvised 
 canoe deep into the woods out of sight, took 
 from the boat a bag almost full of year-old pine 
 gum and an iron bark-scraper, and plunged into, 
 the thick of the forest. 
 
 " Third sleeve to the right after the ' Turk's 
 Head, ' " he murmured to himself. 
 
 To a chance passerby he- would have appeared 
 as an early-bird-of-a-peasant out a-gumming. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE SENSE OF BEING WAITED FOR 
 
 A S Boyan the Hefmit cjimbed the tortuous 
 Z\ path to his cave, only his hood and cas- 
 ■^ -^ sock proclaimed the anchorite. He 
 sprang lightly over the rocks, stopping now and 
 then to draw full, deep breaths of the clear moun- 
 tain air or whistle an answer to some bird-call 
 from the woods. But for the hood and cassock, 
 not the wildest imagination would have pictured 
 him barefoot and shivering before a lithographed 
 Virgin. 
 
 Boyan was still the recluse fanatic, but the past 
 two weeks had broken in upon his most pious 
 habits. At first the girl needed constant atten- 
 tioHj then, as the wound healed, he became timid 
 about asking woman's help, and now he no longer 
 desired it. His heart felt a peculiar sense of at- 
 homeness — a sense of being waited for. So, with- 
 out caring to know just why, Boyan bounded up 
 the path like a peasant lad on a holiday, scarcely 
 feeling the heavy sack on his shoulders or the 
 jug he carried in his hand. 
 
 He laughed to himself as he thought of old 
 Tosho's amazement at the quantity of food he 
 
 104 
 
WAITED FOR 105 
 
 had requested, and his care that it be fresh and 
 good. 
 
 " Perhaps you'd better give him some of your 
 fruit-cakes, Yana," the old man had remarked 
 jokingly. " You'll still have time to mix another 
 batch bfefore Christmas. And maybe a jug of 
 plum-brew, since the Holy Brother has taken to 
 living so fatly." 
 
 " It is hot that I would fill my body with the 
 lusts of the flesh, good uncle," Boyan replied, 
 " but when your bold Ivan last visited my nook, 
 he reproached my hospitality severely." 
 
 " You are expecting my Ivan I " Yana ex- 
 claimed. " Tosho Is a fool. When did a few 
 dried carrots and water satisfy my big lad? I'll 
 see that your load Is heavy enough. Holy Broth- 
 er; and, Holy Brother, do beg him not to forget 
 his old mother," and she hurried away. 
 
 It had not been an Intentional lie and Boyan's 
 conscience was easy — ^the more so perhaps as he 
 realized that the milk, foaming In his jug, would 
 bring bounding life back to his strange guest. 
 
 The squirrels chattered at him in friendly wise 
 from the bare branches of the trees. Chipmunks 
 peeped from the dry leaves or whisked about 
 fallen logs, knowing no fear of the black-clad 
 figure. Now and then he scattered a few crumbs 
 over the path as offerings for the chickadees and 
 sparrows that twittered among the pines, willing 
 to brave the winter's cold. 
 
 As the mouth of the cave came in view, a 
 
io6 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 friendly glow lighted up the entrance walls. 
 Boyan gave a clear, piercing whistle, repeated 
 three times. A figure in cassock appeared at the 
 opening. She came down the path limping 
 slightly, and when she reached the clearing in 
 the pines, the glowing noonday sun glinted on 
 thick braids of blue-black hair. 
 
 "How long you have been absent, Boyan I I 
 am almost starved, with nothing to eat but 
 water-cresses." 
 
 " The Lord gives but doesn't carry home for 
 you," the hermit answered merrily, " and it is a 
 stiff climb from Uncle Tosho's." 
 
 They walked together to the cave. 
 
 " They are in pretty much of a mix-up down 
 there," Boyan went on. " I don't just understand 
 it myself; a big robbery; treasure-hunting and 
 all that. The night-watchman, Manio, followed 
 me up the trail for half an hour, jabbering all 
 manner of idiotic nonsense. He asked me if I 
 knew of some men up in the mountains who, he 
 thinks, are guarding a treasure. He has enlisted 
 Chorbadji Stavry to help him cheat them out of 
 their money. The only thing he seems afraid of 
 is the ghost of one Grandpa Petko, who appears 
 to have some hold on the money-bags. He 
 wanted me to offer prayers " 
 
 "Who Is Stavry?" the girl Interrupted sud- 
 denly, stopping In front of him. " The money- 
 lender of Goreno? " 
 
 "I think 90. Why?" 
 
. WAITED FOR 107 
 
 " How did Manio get acquainted with him? " 
 
 " Stavry came up with a posse in connection 
 with the robbery. They were searching Uncle 
 Tosho's place. Manio spoke, of this treasure and 
 roused Stavry's suspicions, Tosho says Stavry 
 could smell a silver medjidieh in a clay-bank. 
 I'm afraid the old uncle is having some trouble. 
 Why, what is the matter?" 
 
 The girl was one intense, pale eagerness. 
 
 " Do you know what the robbery was; when 
 it happened?" 
 
 , " I'm not sure." He was surprised at her in- 
 terest. " But I think it concerns the taxes and 
 happened some time ago — on Allhallow eve. 
 
 Why! that is " he stopped. Something kept 
 
 him from finishing his sentence, " the same night 
 you came here! " 
 
 There had been so much of mystery about her. 
 Sometimes she was merry and carefree, at other 
 times morose or lost in thought from which he 
 could not rouse her. But never one word, one 
 clue, had she given him concerning her former 
 associations. Boyan did not even know his 
 guest's name. And now, this strange coincidence I 
 
 He thought of the belt of bullets he had found 
 strapped over her shoulder. He had thrown 
 them away, but the memory of them remained, 
 disconcerting. Tosho had said that runaway 
 soldiers were the thieves. Still the strange asso- 
 ciation lingered; she had been so intensely inter- 
 ested. 
 
io8 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 The girl handed him a pail. 
 
 " Go for water," she commanded almost 
 harshly. " I shall get dinner ready." 
 
 She limped here and there, storing the provi- 
 sions in safe nooks. He had quite forgotten the 
 surprise he had planned for her with the milk. 
 She evidently accepted it as a matter of course 
 and put the jug outside in a cool corner between 
 mossy stones. When he remembered, it did not 
 seem to matter any more. 
 
 Neither spoke during the preparations. He 
 gave little help, but watched her as she hurried 
 here and there. 
 
 "It is ready," she said shortly, and they sat 
 down before the stone table. But no merry con- 
 versation ensued; even their hunger seemed to 
 have vanished; everything seemed cheerless; once 
 or twice she shivered when a cold draft came in 
 the opening. 
 
 When they had finished, he piled the wood high 
 on the fire and spread a blanket for her to lie 
 upon. She was very restless and nervous. There 
 were a few moments of silence as they sat before 
 the fire. Then she propped her head on her 
 hand and said: 
 
 " You have never asked what brought me 
 here." 
 
 He did not answer, but watched the flames 
 curling over the pine bark. 
 
 " So I am going to tell you," she finished. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE MAKING OF A JOAN OF ARC 
 
 * *1\ IW Y 'MOTHER was a very young woman 
 
 I Y I and I remember thinking she was the 
 most beautiful woman in the world. 
 Father was much older. He had come to our 
 Pirin village from somewhere in Southern Mace- 
 donia, where he had fought in a revolt against 
 the Turks and had to run away. He married ray 
 mother before he had been in Tetino more than a 
 year. They loved each other devotedly, and our 
 home was a nest of joy. 
 
 "There were no Turks in Tetino then; not 
 until I was about six did they begin coming up 
 to the village. Then a garrison was established 
 to control the mountain passes of the Struma 
 near by. After that we were never without fear. 
 
 " My father knew them and scarcely ever left 
 mother and me alone. He added another layer 
 of stones to the house-wall; I was forbidden to 
 go outside the courtyard. It was very lonely 
 and tedious after having been used to playing in 
 the fields and on the mountain-^side. The word 
 
 * Turk ' couched more terror for me than all the 
 ghosts and goblins of childland. 
 
 109 
 
no PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 " When I was seven, my brother was born. 
 They were all so proud of the little fellow that 
 I began to feel neglected and lonelier than ever. 
 One afternoon, while my mother was still weak, 
 the court became unendurable ; I slipped through 
 the gate and ran out to my old playground. It 
 was deserted, but the childish intoxication of un- 
 restraint was upon me. I ran on and on, farther 
 and farther from home, touching the leaves, the 
 flowers, rubbing my face against the trees in utter 
 delight. 
 
 " It was getting late, however, and I knew my 
 father would soon be back from the fields. I 
 began retracing my steps down the hillside. 
 There was a fork in the road about half-way 
 home; just before I reached it, I heard loud 
 singing and laughter. I can feel yet how my 
 heart beat; a group of Turkish soldiers were 
 coming down the road. I would have hidden 
 in the bushes, but it was too late. Already one 
 of them had caught sight of me. 
 
 " ' Hello, here's a bouncing one out for an 
 afternoon jaunt. Whither art skipping, little 
 squirrel?' 
 
 " The words and laugh paralyzed me. My 
 knees grew stiff; my feet felt rooted. I stood 
 iand stared in terror. The Turk drew nearer." 
 
 The hermit stirred uneasily. He muttered 
 something; the girl wondered if It was a prayer. 
 
 " ' Have you lost your tongue, little one? ' the 
 Turk continued. ' Haven't seen a handsome 
 
MAKING A JOAN OF ARC in 
 
 gentleman like me before, have you?' and he 
 started to pinch my cheek. 
 
 " The touch of his hand broke the spell. I 
 dodged and ran at full speed down the road. 
 
 " ' Ho, ho,' he shouted, ' watch the little chip- 
 munk run I ' 
 
 " Whether he followed I do not know, but I 
 heard one of the others call. out: 
 
 " ' Don't rob the cradle, Salih Effendi. Save 
 her for another year.' 
 
 " Breathless, gasping, I rushed into our kitchen, 
 where mother was chatting with old Donna, who 
 helped with the work. I threw myself in her 
 arms and sobbed out the whole story. Mother 
 clasped me in despair; old Donna came and bent 
 tover us both. 
 
 "There was no light except from the fireplace 
 and it flickered hideously over Donna's withered, 
 distorted face. She touched a deep scar that dis- 
 figured her mouth and one side of her face. 
 
 " ' I have told you before, Petra, this is-the 
 only way out of it,'' she said to my mother. 
 ' She is far too beautiful to escape the jackals.' 
 
 " Mother ptished her away and clasped me 
 more closely, crying my name over and over, ca- 
 ressing me as she had not done for months. I 
 could not understand, but I clung to her and 
 grew quieter. I was asleep when my father 
 entered. 
 
 " For week's after that, mother often called me 
 to her and fondled me and studied my face for 
 
112 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 hours. Sometimes she would stand me before 
 the mirror, crying: 
 
 " ' Look at yourself, Adalena I Look at your- 
 self and never forget how beautiful you were ! ' 
 
 "And I stared at my face in the glass and 
 could not understand what it was all about. 
 
 " During these days the American mission- 
 aries were making a round of our villages. They 
 often stopped at our house to leave tracts, take 
 dinner, or buy oats for their horses, and, though 
 father was friendly to them, he never gave them 
 any encouragement to hold a prayer-meeting in 
 Tetino. 
 
 " I think father would have rnade a poor pros- 
 elyte, Boyan, as would most of our Macedonians. 
 It was the intangible self-respect of the mission- 
 aries that fascinated him. Their eyes lacked the 
 hunted look; their shoulders, their bearing, all 
 breathed an atmosphere of fields unfenced, un- 
 ravaged, broad, free. The American women, 
 too, looked one straight in the face and didn't 
 keep turning around to see who followed. 
 
 " This strange air of freedom lingered in our 
 home even after they rode away, until the sound 
 of some soldier Turk dispelled the illusion. Yet 
 every time they came they left my father gloom- 
 ier. He would look at their vanishing horses and 
 would shake his fist at something that seemed to 
 defy him. Was the American God a different 
 one from Him who had so forgotten our Mace- 
 donian land in His accounts? 
 
MAKING A JOAN OF ^^ CQ 
 
 " I don't know what father thought about God, 
 but the candle before our Virgin stopped burn- 
 ing, and even the Easter mass could not draw 
 him to church. Mother watched his deepening 
 gloom and she hated the missionaries for dis- 
 turbing our predestined lot of misery with visions 
 of freedom and joy. 
 
 " One day mother clung to me more than usual. 
 I heard father tell her to keep closely inside; a 
 new detachment of Bashibozouks had just entered 
 the village. When he went toward the street, 
 she called him back and had him kiss me twice. 
 Then she led me into the kitchen. Donna was 
 there, her old face more distorted than ever. 
 She stood near the table, which was drawn up be- 
 fore the window, and I saw a long, sharp knife 
 in her hands. 
 
 " * Come here, little lovely one,' she cried, 
 'we'll fix you safe from the Bozouks. They 
 won't care to touch our girl when old Donna 
 is through.' 
 
 " Mother lifted me on the table and for a 
 while almost smothered me with kisses, while the 
 tears soaked the neck of my dress. Then she 
 pushed me back, looked at me steadily an endless 
 time, so it seemed to me, and flung herself face 
 downward on the floor in front of the fireplace. 
 
 " I looked wonderingly from her to Donna. 
 The old woman pulled me to her. I felt no fear; 
 Donna had been like a second mother to me and 
 I loved her in spite of her hideousness. She felt 
 
114 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 of my face-muscles carefully, muttering all the 
 while in a dull monotone: 
 
 " ' Donna will do for her girl — just what 
 Donna's mother did for her. The Turkish dogs 
 pick out the pretty girls first.' 
 
 " She lifted the knife and drew the back of 
 the blade across my face. The cold of the steel 
 frightened me; I jerked back quickly and cried 
 out. She snatched up the knife. Her eyes 
 gleamed red; she grabbed for me. I screamed 
 in terror, but her grip was relentless. The knife 
 descended. I shut my eyes and screamed. 
 
 " Some one grabbed me from behind, but not 
 before the hard steel had cut into my cheek. The 
 wife of the missionary had entered the open door 
 just in time. Donna's slash had missed its aim 
 and a mere cut was the result; but I thought I 
 was being killed, and kicked and screamed in the 
 missionary's arms. 
 
 "When I remember next, the American lady 
 was quieting me with cold water and wiping the 
 blood away. My mother lay motionless before 
 the fireplace. Donna was gone. I never saw 
 her again. 
 
 " It was hours before order was restored. 
 Mother was weak and helpless. The good 
 woman who had saved me volunteered to stay 
 with us for several days, and while she was there 
 mother explained to her the whole story. 
 
 " It is an old device, you know, and not un- 
 common even in these days, to save the beautiful 
 
MAKING A JOAN OF ARC 115 
 
 daughters from Turkish lust by slashing their 
 faces into hideous ugliness. Boyan, Boyan, only 
 in our songs do we in Macedonia dream of 
 beauty; in actual life beauty is a curse to a 
 woman. The American lady was beautiful; her 
 mother had cherished and nourished beauty as 
 a woman's treasure. Our mothers extinguish its 
 first awakening, for only the repulsive face is 
 safe. Honor is enough for a Macedonian. 
 
 " The missionary told us of the American 
 school for girls. She offered to take me back 
 with her and care for me there. She would see 
 that I was well educated; perhaps I might become 
 a great teacher. My mother and father debated 
 long, but at last I went away." 
 
 Adalena changed her position until she could 
 put her chin on both hands, and looked dreamily 
 in the fire. 
 
 "The next five years I was gaily, carelessly 
 happy. The missionaries had one child, a girl 
 near my own age, who had just returned from 
 a visit to America, and to her every hero and 
 heroine in all history was an American. I re- 
 member once she told me of a wondrous woman 
 who had led whole armies in a revolution against 
 England — how she had finally elected George 
 Washington for President, and so angered the 
 British that they burned her — ' burned her just 
 like a chunk of wood,' Annie would end, shiver- 
 ing with horror. 
 
 " ' But how could they,' I asked one day, ' when 
 
ii6 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 she was an American? Did they dare burn an 
 American, those British Turks?' 
 
 " ' Well, you see,' Annie answered confidently, 
 ' she wasn't a naturalized citizen, but only born 
 there. You can't understand these things, but 
 you would if you were an American.' 
 
 " And that was my first introduction to Joan 
 of Arc. It made a great impression on me; I 
 used to dream of her at night leading armies to 
 victory and freeing the whole people. I would 
 waken in the morning trembling with excitement, 
 and spend the day absorbed in my dream, think- 
 ing, wishing, hoping I, too, could be some such 
 woman. 
 
 " I was in the schoolyard one day in the sum- 
 mer of my twelfth year when Annie came rushing 
 to me. 
 
 " ' Adalena, Adalena,' she cried, ' mother 
 wants you. My father is going over the moun- 
 tains to Tetino and will take you to see your 
 parents.' 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 WEIGHED IN THE BALANCES 
 
 "yT WAS a hot, sultry evening when we ap- 
 
 I preached Tetlno. I could scarcely restrain 
 
 my eagerness. How glad my parents 
 
 would be! What a rollicking boy I expected to 
 
 find In my brother ! 
 
 " The missionary whipped up and we drove ai 
 top speed to my father's house near the outskirts 
 of the village. Its ruins were still smoking. 
 
 " I jumped from the carriage, crying out my 
 father's name. The missionary tried to restrain 
 me; he saw a man sitting on a stone in the deso- 
 late courtyard, mumbling to himself: 
 
 " * They have taken them all — ^my precious 
 ones. The Turks have taken them all.' 
 
 " ' It Is Grandfather Tasko,' I cried, * my 
 mother's father I ' 
 
 " I clasped his knees, begging him to tell me 
 where my parents and my brother were. He did 
 not recognize me, seeming only bothered, and 
 mumbled on: 
 
 " ' The little boy, they beat his brains out 
 against a tree. My Petra, my beautiful one, they 
 
 "7 
 
ii8 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 carried away. The strong husband was not there, 
 and old Tasko is very weak; he could not strike. 
 They are gone. The Turks have taken them all.' 
 
 " ' But, grandfather,' I begged, ' where did 
 they take my mother, Petra? " 
 
 " ' Yes, Petra, Petra ! Next day at the foot 
 of the cliff lies Petra, cold. I buried my girl. 
 Old Tasko can't save. He digs graves. Dig 
 one for himself.' 
 
 " He shook his head and took up his wild reci- 
 tative. We put him in the buggy and drove as 
 fast as we could to a shepherd's cabin up the 
 mountain-trail. There we learned the details of 
 the massacre. 
 
 " My father had been suspected and fled to the 
 mountains, planning to return that night for 
 mother and the boy; but the Turks let loose their 
 passions in the afternoon, and a general massacre 
 followed. The shepherd had heard that my 
 father had gone to Sofia. 
 
 " Grandfather Tasko died that night, and the 
 next day we went back to the mission. I stayed 
 until I was seventeen. 
 
 " There was to be a great missionary confer- 
 ence at Sofia that year, and a company were go- 
 ing from the school. I begged to join them, but 
 it was no religious zeal that urged me. I had 
 two ambitions: to find my father and to avenge 
 the death of my mother and brother. 
 
 " The meetings were devout enough, but con- 
 tinual prayer and thanksgiving oppressed me. I 
 
WEIGHED IN THE BALANCES 119 
 
 felt no fear in Bulgaria's capital; I had not seen 
 a Turk since I came. 
 
 " It was an afternoon session of special prayer 
 for Macedonia, and I could not bear the peti- 
 tions any more. ' It is not enough to say Our 
 Father, one must also say Amen,' you know. I 
 said my Amen, and slipped into the street. 
 
 " A wandering spirit came over me. The 
 streets bristled with jostling crowds. I had never 
 seen such multitudes before. Was my father 
 somewhere in this aimless throng? Hoping 
 against hope, I stared at the faces hurrying past. 
 The phantom chase led me on from street to 
 street, until the large plate windows of a cafe 
 caught my eyes. Men and women sat at small 
 tables, chatting and laughing, perfectly carefree 
 and unafraid, just as the Americans did in Mace- 
 donia. 
 
 " At a table for four, drawn in a corner apart 
 from the others, a heavily bearded man discoursed 
 earnestly with two young fellows. His flashing 
 eyes as he addressed now one, now the other, 
 caught my attention, held it. I pressed my face 
 against the glass. 
 
 " Ten years had not made me forget that face. 
 I rushed in wildly and threw my arms in mad joy 
 ahout my father's neck." 
 
 The girl leaned against the wall and clasped 
 one knee with her hands. 
 
 " The rest is recent history," she said. " Father 
 was planning a great Macedonian uprising. He 
 
120 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 would go from village to village preaching revolt 
 until all Macedonia was ready for freedom; then 
 strike one concerted blow. I did not go back to 
 the missionary school. 
 
 " We went together on our mission. For two 
 years we traveled up and down the Bulgarian 
 regions of Macedonia: from Uskub to Monastir 
 and Ochrid, from Salonica to Kirk-Kilisseh, 
 Everywhere Bulgars suffered, everywhere they 
 dreamed of liberty, but there was no united effort, 
 no organization. A leader was their great need, 
 and my father became that leader. 
 
 " You would think it glorious work? Yes, but 
 it was hard, wearying work, too, Boyan. Up in 
 their mountain nests the brigand voivodas roamed 
 free, defying Turkish tyranny, like untamed 
 eagles of the Macedonian wilds. But we had 
 to move under the very nose of the Turk; in 
 plain and valley we crawled from village to vil- 
 lage organizing the peasantry against the great 
 day. My fathers' heart burned within him when 
 he witnessed Moslem outrages, but he checked 
 reprisals; his one passion was to prepare the 
 masses for the one final revolution that was the 
 dream of his life. To that he sacrificed all. His 
 own life he counted for nothing. He was only 
 a torch, he said, carrying the flame abroad; some 
 day he would burn out. 
 
 " One night the district leaders of the revolu- 
 tionary organization held a conference in one of 
 the Monastir villages. I could not go, but waited 
 
WEIGHED IN THE BALANCES 121 
 
 long In a mountain-hut for father's return. He 
 never came, nor did any of the others. The Turks 
 had discovered the assembly. 
 
 " Since then I have taken up my father's work. 
 It must succeed, Boyan. The struggle Is Inevit- 
 able ; it must find us ready. The peasantry would 
 lay down their lives to a man, but they do not 
 know how. They need a leader. I do all I can, 
 but after all I am a woman, though but few in 
 Macedonia know it." 
 
 She stopped and looked at him intently. Ap- 
 pealing admiration glowed In her eyes as she 
 gazed at the massively built frame of him; the 
 muscular, masterful shoulders, which no cassock 
 could utterly conceal, the tense features, the eyes 
 that looked far away. She had felt their com- 
 pelling fire. What unspoken, unrequited agonies 
 burned beneath this hermit's hood; were they the 
 Immemorial agonies of Macedonia? He was 
 lost In thought; she gazed, waited, hoped. At 
 last he spoke: 
 
 " What can all your peasantry do against the 
 uncounted soldiers of the Sultan? They come 
 and come and there is no end to their coming. 
 You and your comrades are like children trying 
 to dam the sea with pebbles. The first tide sweeps 
 your labors away." 
 
 " Let it sweep ! Others will come, and others 
 — and oh, Boyan I If we can not dam that tide, 
 then let It sweep us away! We can not rest Idly 
 and watch — we can not, and you can not ! " 
 
122 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 He smiled bitterly. " It sweeps you away in 
 new tides of blood — and every to-morrow is 
 worse than the yesterday!" 
 
 " But the great to-morrow is coming, Boyan, 
 Before the clash of destiny can begin, the pawns 
 must be cleared off the field. Pawns we are of 
 liberty; we may never see the great day, but we 
 alone can speed its coming." 
 
 " It will never come for Macedonia," Boyan 
 muttered. " You have nothing on your side, only 
 sheep a-plenty to slaughter, — only numbers." 
 
 " Only numbers ! " Adalena cried warmly, 
 " Numbers, Boyan, and consecration. I read 
 once of a cloud of locusts in Tripoli. The Arabs 
 had tried to check their ravaging advance by de- 
 stroying the only bridge over a sluggish stream 
 which ran across their path. The crawling mil- 
 lions stopped only for a minute when they reached 
 the bank, then the thousand first-comers crawled 
 in. The water washed them off against the bul- 
 rushes. Tens of thousands followed; hundreds 
 of thousands piled their dead bodies over, under, 
 alongside the rest; the sluggish current could not 
 keep up with the living flood of legs and wings 
 and fat bellies, — and over the bridge of the 
 silent thousands, the buzzing millions crossed to 
 the other side. 
 
 " My father died, — and I shall die after him, 
 and most of us who prepare the way, and many 
 of those who lead the people at the great day 
 of reckoning will perish, but across their dead 
 
WEIGHED IN THE BALANCES 123 
 
 bodies Macedonia will march into the great free- 
 dom of which we are all dreaming." 
 
 " Dreaming, — always dreaming I " he sighed. 
 "Of what avail are dreams of liberty? The 
 peasants have no money, and bare fingers are not 
 rifles." 
 
 Adalena lowered her voice to a whisper. 
 
 *' True," she answered. " Still — money comes 
 in now and then. Two hundred thousand pias- 
 ters will buy many rifles." 
 
 He sprang to his feet. Two hundred thousand 
 piasters I 
 
 " So it was you I You, a woman, and peasant 
 lads who robbed Murad Pasha's tax-wagon and 
 murdered his soldiers ! " 
 
 Her eyes flamed dangerously. 
 
 " Robbed 1 " she cried. "What have we done 
 but tried to give back to the people what is their 
 own? Call Murad Pasha a robber, murderer, if 
 you will, but not us who would kill a dozen 
 leeches to save a thousand children of misery. 
 This money is for arms, Boyan, saved against 
 the day of wrath, when a thousand men in a 
 mountain pass may turn the balance against the 
 Turk." 
 
 " But — ^but this is all dreaming. It has been 
 dreamed a hundred times." He waved an impa- 
 tient hand. " After all, there is no organization." 
 
 *' There is organization," she protested, " crude 
 but growing." 
 
 She sprang to his side and caught his arm. 
 
124 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 " Boyan," she pleaded; " we need a leader. I 
 have watched you. Will you come? " 
 
 "I?" he cried in surprise. "What do you 
 ask? I am only a hermit; I have given my life 
 to God and to peace." 
 
 "God! Let God live with the gods. Man 
 must live with men. What does your life here 
 amount to? What right have you to eat even 
 Tosho's dried onions? What avails it if you 
 kneel all day before that," — she pointed to the 
 candle-lighted Virgin — " when men are slaugh- 
 tered and living virgins ruined all about you, and 
 you do not raise your finger? " 
 
 He shook her off. " You slander what is 
 holy," he said bitterly. " Yours is not the only 
 story; I, too, have suffered, lost all in Turkish 
 massacres, but I saw it was no use. I came here 
 to seek peace and freedom. I had it — till you 
 came." 
 
 "And you mean to stay here? Do nothing 
 but pray and chatter your teeth through gospels 
 and liturgies and saintly disciplines?" 
 
 " It brings me peace. In the name of freedom, 
 you incite both Bulgar and Turk, and only fresh 
 masacres follow." 
 
 " So this is your answer? This is all you will 
 do?" 
 
 " You and your peasants have tried only one 
 wayl I have tried both; tried and failed." 
 
 She threw back her head; her eyes flashed fire 
 and her lips trembled. 
 
WEIGHED IN THE BALANCES 125 
 
 " It is only a cassock and hood," she said. 
 " I thought I had found a man." 
 
 The curtains swept about her. She threw her- 
 self on the couch of pine needles and the blankets 
 swayed together. Boyan stared at them speech- 
 less. Never had he seen a woman so magnificent, 
 never had he been cut so deeply. He clenched 
 his fist and stood rigid, his lips working. 
 
 The November night wind whistled weirdly 
 about the cave; ghostly cadences rustled through 
 the trees. The dying coals flickered one by one 
 and went out. After a long time Boyan relaxed; 
 he raked together the few remaining embers and 
 made ready for the night. His muscles ached 
 and he moved slowly. 
 
 " Yet I was right, I am right," he kept mur- 
 muring to himself as he rolled himself in his 
 blanket. " It is useless, firebrand work. A fool 
 can throw a stone into the sea, but a hundred 
 wise men can not pull it out." 
 
 But he could not bring himself to approach the 
 Virgin and Child. 
 
 Broad daylight wakened him, and he stretched 
 himself uncomfortably. He felt confused. It 
 seemed as if something disastrous had happened. 
 Gradually he awakened enough to remember de- 
 tail after detail of the past night. She had left 
 him in anger ; perhaps the day would bring a more 
 rational mood. 
 
 Evidently Adalena was still asleep. He sprang 
 up and hurried to prepare breakfast; he would 
 
126 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 surprise her when she came out. It was soon 
 ready, and he called softly. He craved to speak 
 aloud the name he had learned only the night be- 
 fore, but his lips would not frame the syllables. 
 
 There was no response to his summons. He 
 waited until the breakfast grew cold. Still she 
 did not appear. The silence in the cave was 
 death-like. It chilled Boyan. It had never been 
 so still before, not even when he was alone. He 
 held his breath to listen : not the faintest whisper 
 of a sound could he hear. 
 
 Timidly at first, then emboldened by anxiety, 
 he approached the curtaining blankets. He lis- 
 tened again, and pushed them back. The place 
 was empty; her hood and cassock gone. He 
 caught hold of the curtains and buried his face 
 in his arm. The truth he had been suppressing 
 for days shouted itself in his ears. 
 
 " Adalena," he whispered, " I love you, love 
 you." 
 
 His weight was too much for the partition. 
 The blankets fell about his feet, leaving the cave 
 barer and more comfortless than ever. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 DULGOKOSSAi 
 
 THE fitful flame played about the fresh 
 sticks of wood as Dobry tossed them on 
 to the glowiiig coals of the studio fireplace. 
 The hours wore away — ^midnight and past — 
 when suddenly he straightened up, alert. The 
 frost on the paving-stones outside creaked lightly. 
 He stole over to the small window to listen and 
 had just put his ear to the pane, when a handful 
 of dirt rattled against it and a stick knocked on 
 the wall: once, twice, thrice, very rapid and short 
 strokes, then a long, hard beat as if the stick 
 rubbed against the stones. He started. It was 
 the knock of the Goreno comrades. 
 
 He could see nothing and waited in silence. 
 The rapping came again, this time more insistent 
 and somewhat different; a long, two short, and 
 another long stroke. Dobry went down, turned 
 the key, and opened the street door. In the light 
 of a dying moon a monk-clad figure stood sil- 
 houetted. 
 
 " Dobry? " the voice was low. 
 
 " Well, by my icon-brushes, is it you, your Holi- 
 127 
 
128 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 ness? In with you, brother, and toast your shins 
 a bit. The fire is as good as if you were ex- 
 pected." 
 
 The guest stole past him, climbed to the bal- 
 cony, and entered the studio. He appropriated 
 Dobry's armchair and stretched his feet toward 
 the friendly warmth. Dobry noticed that the 
 monk seemed lame. 
 
 " I heard rumors and couldn't stay away any 
 longer," his Holiness began. " Would have 
 come sooner, but the bullet I tried to stop with 
 my knee that night has kept me laid up." 
 
 " You were hurt? We feared as much; we ac- 
 counted for every one except you. Where did 
 you vanish? You look pretty well fed." 
 
 " Not very far coming, but a long way going 
 back," the monk answered. " Now what of the 
 Cause, Dobry? I have come to hear everything. 
 To-morrow I start for Uskub. I had hoped to 
 take a comrade with me, but it is not to be this 
 time." 
 
 " Wish I could go," Dobry said regretfully, 
 throwing his arm about the monk's shoulder. 
 " But we here in Goreno need all the wits we 
 have for the next few days. Ivan the Huntsman 
 has crossed over to Bulgaria to arrange for the 
 transport of the money. The gold he has hidden 
 somewhere; the silver and small coin is to be 
 changed into gold without attracting suspicion, 
 and then the whole amount is to go across the 
 border. It will bring rifles and ammunition to 
 
DULGOKOSSA 129 
 
 the comrades in Goreno and also to the villages 
 where Ivan's lads come from. The rest goes to 
 the Cause at large." 
 
 " Good," the monk muttered. 
 
 " But Stavry the money-lender has caught on." 
 
 The monk nodded. " How much does he sus- 
 pect?" 
 
 " By putting two and two together, he has just 
 about the whole plot. He tried to threaten old 
 Tosho first, and promised to keep still if he got 
 a share of the money; but Tosho, knowing noth- 
 ing of course, backed the old vulture out with his 
 fist. Then he came straight to me and put the 
 same proposition, and I wasn't quick enough to 
 throw him off the track. I told him to give me 
 a few days to think it over." 
 
 " And if you do give him the amount he 
 wants ? " The monk's face was set. 
 
 " It may quiet him for a while, but we'll never 
 be sure. The simple truth is, the devil has the 
 grip on us." 
 
 " How do you propose to tie his tongue? " 
 
 Dobry shook his head. There was a long si- 
 lence. The monk's heart beat until it seemed to 
 shake the robe. At last: 
 
 " There is one sort of man who never tells 
 tales." 
 
 Dobry looked up in quick surprise, then shud- 
 dered at what he read in the stern young 
 face. 
 
 "You mean ? Surely you can not 
 
130 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 To kill a Bulgar?" 
 
 " I would have killed my own father had he 
 proved traitor to the Cause. It is the Cause 
 alone that counts. Dobry, the life of Stavry the 
 money-lender is only one against thousands, 
 which his treachery imperils." 
 
 The monk pushed back the armchair and 
 leaned over the painter, pressing his shoulders 
 firmly with both hands. 
 
 " It is time for you to know. Look at me I 
 
 Look closely. Am I ? " There was a quick, 
 
 violent shake of the head. The cap fell back to 
 the shoulders, and over it two long braids of black 
 hair. 
 
 " Dulgokossa! " Dobry cried, springing to his 
 feet and catching her hand. 
 
 "You know me, then?" 
 
 " Know you? I have dreamed of you night 
 and day. My father told me of you; that some 
 day you would come to us." 
 
 " I know. You have the name from him. He 
 always called me The Long-Haired One. Your 
 father and mine worked together until the end. 
 One time he said to me : ' You will come to us 
 some time, Dulgokossa, thou Long-Halred One, 
 and you will point out the way to our lads.' Our 
 fathers have gone; are we to carry on their 
 work?" 
 
 " To the last drop of our blood," Dobry an- 
 swered. " Tell me what to do." 
 
 She looked steadily into his eyes. 
 
DULGOKOSSA 131 
 
 " Dobry, the Cause demands it of you. Stavry 
 must be killed." 
 
 He met her eyes squarely; then he put his hand 
 in hers. It trembled, but his eyes did not waver. 
 
 " It shall be as you say, Adalena, When? " 
 
 "To-morrow night?" she asked impatiently. 
 " Every hour's delay may prove fatal." 
 
 " To-morrow night, then," he answered. " I 
 think it will not be hard. The unmarried old 
 miser lives alone with an old housekeeper who is 
 deaf. Where can I send you news of the result? " 
 
 " I shall go back whence I came," the girl re- 
 plied. " Follow the upland path to the left from 
 Uncle Tosho's sheds, clear up to the highest 
 point. Just before you reach the top of the El 
 Tepe cllflf-trail, turn into a goat-path that starts 
 from a thrice-blazed mura-tree. It leads straight 
 to the cave of Boyan the Hermit, where I have 
 been staying. He has been like a — father to me. 
 Let me know by twelve o'clock. After that I 
 must leave. It is late already for the Uskub 
 meeting, but I shall wait until twelve." 
 
 " I shall come myself If I can," Dobry an- 
 swered. " But if that is impossible, then Mirko 
 shall carry an icon. One of the Virgin all in blue 
 with a cloudless sky for a background, and all is 
 well. The other, it shall be vivid enough to let 
 you know how things have gone." 
 
 The night-sky was turning to soft gray. Ada- 
 lena tucked up her braids and pulled the cap 
 far over her head. 
 
132 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 " If anything delays you," she said, " leave the 
 icon with the hermit. I may get the news more 
 quickly." 
 
 " Does he know? Will he understand? " 
 
 " He knows all he needs to know." 
 
 She drew a dagger from her belt and held It 
 in her left hand. Her right she laid on the 
 blade. 
 
 " Once more, Dobry," she said. 
 
 He put his hand on hers, and together they re- 
 peated the oath of undying loyalty: "While 
 powder burns and blood doth flow " 
 
 She was calm and cool, but when he drew his 
 hand away, molten fire was coursing through his 
 veins. She put the dagger in place and went to 
 the door. He wracked his brain for a pretext to 
 detain her, but could invent none. A shyness, 
 almost timidity, such as he had never known be- 
 fore, kept him silent. 
 
 She smiled, nodded good-by, and went away as 
 quietly as she had come. 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 DOBRY GOES INTO THE NIGHT 
 
 DOBRY threw down his paint-brushes and 
 pushed his chair away from his easel. 
 " I guess she will understand this mes- 
 sage, if I fail," he murmured, surveying the can- 
 vas with grim satisfaction. "But will she ever 
 know ? " 
 
 He stopped, walked over to the window, and 
 gazed down the courtyard, bathed in the hazy 
 twilight of early even. 
 
 " If I fail, she need never know," he finished. 
 
 From a drawer near the divan he extracted a 
 portfolio of early sketches — ^youthful visions of 
 the Phantom Princess, half-caught adolescent 
 dreams which he was too shy to show to any one. 
 He looked them over wistfully. Perhaps" some 
 day he would show them to her. 
 
 Some day — ^when Macedonia would be free! 
 But in the meantime death was the task allotted 
 him, not love. 
 
 He realized it was growing dark very fast, and 
 his plans for the night were still indefinite. He 
 pushed the sketches aside and paced up and down 
 the room, lost in tense speculation. 
 
 133 
 
134 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 "Do-bry!" Mirko's complaining, insistent 
 voice roused him from his brown study. " Do- 
 bry, Bati Dobry, why don't you open? Aunt 
 Zora says supper will soon be too cold for pigs 
 to eat." 
 
 Dobry unlocked the door. 
 
 "All right, little fellow," he said kindly. 
 "And, Mirko, after supper I have something 
 very important to tell you ; but you must eat your 
 supper without asking one single question about 
 it." 
 
 The twelve-year-old nodded sagely. It always 
 touched him to have his potential manhood rec- 
 ognized. 
 
 " I understand, Bati Dobry," he answered, 
 and snuggled importantly against his brother. 
 "Aunt Zora is a fine woman of course, but we 
 men can't trust everybody with our secret affairs, 
 can we? " 
 
 It was late in the evening when Dobry returned 
 to the studio. His step was certain now; brisk, 
 direct, determined. He looked over his tools of 
 death once more before setting out — the long 
 dagger with the wavy double edge, shining, eager, 
 pitilessly ready. He pressed his thumb against 
 both edges; the steel was chilly to the touch and 
 razor-sharp. He laid it aside with a grunt of 
 satisfaction, and examined his revolver. The six 
 fatal messengers grinned leaden death at him. 
 
 " The steel first if I can — the less noise the 
 better. But you may get your chance, sonnies," — 
 
DOBRY GOES INTO THE NIGHT 135 
 
 he caressed the dull leaden fingers — " you may 
 get your chance. And if you too fail, why then, 
 good, fat brother, you will serve us all I " 
 
 Out of a small box he took a round iron bomb, 
 wrapped in cotton swathings; made sure of the 
 fuse, and deposited it in a pocket-fold of his dark 
 red sash. Revolver and knife followed after it. 
 He drew the blade again and again to make sure 
 it would obey the slightest move of his hand, then 
 he put out the light and stole quietly along the 
 balcony corridor. The boards creaked in pro- 
 test; Dobry moved still more stealthily. 
 
 He stopped for a moment before the window 
 of Mirko's tiny bedroom. 
 
 " I ought to have told him more," Dobry 
 thought. " Still, when he gets older he will fight. 
 It is in his blood. He knows enough to tell 
 Adalena of — of whatever does come out! " 
 
 He gained the street without attracting any 
 notice. The town was dark. Only an occasional 
 lantern or window-light broke in on the creepy 
 night. Goreno men knew enough to keep them- 
 selves under lock and key after sundown. 
 
 But if the town was dark, it was by no means 
 silent. The streets rang with the ribald songs 
 of soldiers and zaptiehs, carousing, Dobry sur- 
 mised, in Papaz Effendi's tavern. He met few 
 owls. One, a Turk, swore at him ; another wished 
 him good health in frightened Bulgarian. Dobry 
 answered neither, and moved on briskly, silently, 
 like a man who was going somewhere. 
 
136 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 Stavry's house was in the older section of Go- 
 reno, in a narrow little street jutting off the mar- 
 ket-place. Dobry avoided crossing the square, 
 lighted by the lurid translucence of dirty tavern 
 windows; he slipped along tortuous byways into 
 the narrow passage, scarcely more than an alley, 
 and groped his way carefully to the doorway. 
 The first floor was given over to the cheese and 
 olive-oil shop which served the main purposes oT 
 a usurer's bank for the peasants of the Goreno 
 region. The living-rooms were directly above. 
 
 A light still burned in the room nearest the 
 stairway. 
 
 " The old scoundrel is up, anyway," Dobry 
 thought. " That may make things easier," 
 
 He stepped into a deeper shadow to recon- 
 noiter and form some definite plan of action. 
 
 A revulsion against the deed came over him. 
 To kill a Bulgar in cold blood, even for Mace- 
 donia " If there only were some other way," 
 
 he murmured. " If one could silence his tongue 
 somehow. Ugh ! " he swore impatiently, " there 
 is only one way to be rid of cockroaches." 
 
 He left his hiding-place in the shadow of the 
 house across the street, stepped boldly to the 
 gate, and pounded the heavy knocker. He heard 
 a chair pushed back, then Stavry's uneven stump- 
 ing back and forth over the bare floor of the 
 room above. From a window that opened over- 
 head, the intruder heard in harsh, sleepy tones: 
 
 "Who's there?" 
 
DOBRY GOES INTO THE NIGHT 137 
 
 In answer Dobry gave a signal-knock. The 
 limping thump descended the stairs, a key turned, 
 and the door swung open, slowly, cautiously. 
 
 " It is Dobry," the guest said, pushing his way 
 into the hall. " I've come to talk things over, 
 Stavry." 
 
 Stavry put his sour, wrinkled face close to the 
 youth's and peered keenly up at him. But the 
 hall was dark, lighted only by a candle flickering 
 in its socket at the head of the stairway, and he 
 saw nothing alarming in his visitor's countenance. 
 Dobry kicked the door shut and started upstairs. 
 
 Still, an uneasiness troubled his host. " It is 
 almost bedtime, Dobry," he complained. 
 " Couldn't you have waited until morning? " 
 
 " We have slept long enough," Dobry an- 
 swered shortly; " Macedonia knows no morn- 
 ing." 
 
 Stavry was forced to follow him to the upper 
 room. 
 
 Dobry glanced about quickly as he entered. It 
 was a bare place, a veritable miser's den. Except 
 for some trash piled in a dusty heap in the cor- 
 ner, only a rough table, a few chairs, and an old 
 tin-stove covered the carpetless floor. A cur- 
 tained partition led into Stavry's sleeping-room, 
 barer if possible than the living-room. Behind 
 these two, Dobry knew, were the housekeeper's 
 room and the kitchen. 
 
 Dobry could hear no one moving; Stavry was 
 evidently alone. The visitor threw himself on 
 
138 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 a chair by the table and leaned his head on one 
 hand, shading his face from the candle that sput- 
 tered in the center of the table. 
 
 " Now let's get the straight of that little busi- 
 ness you came to see me about, Stavry," he began. 
 Then he checked himself: " Are we alone? " 
 
 " All alone," Stavry assured him. " Martha 
 has been snoring this long time." 
 
 Dobry breathed more freely. The dirty, 
 greedy, hawk-like face before him sickened him. 
 
 " There is no use beating around the bush," 
 he began; "you know all about our plans." 
 
 Stavry chuckled. " You won't find many layers 
 of wool over these old eyes, my lad." 
 
 Dobry flushed. " They are blind eyes. Gray- 
 beard," he retorted, " if they cannot see that the 
 money is not for our own use. When the revo- 
 lution comes, it must find us ready. We need 
 every piaster for arms, if we are ever to win." 
 
 " Come, come," Stavry sneered. " A man like 
 Croom Dobreff, without an extra shirt to put on 
 his back, isn't going to stick his head in a noose 
 for the sake of two hundred thousand piasters, 
 and then help you hoard them to buy gunpowder 
 with." 
 
 *' Hoard! Why, old fellow, not one piaster of 
 that money has ever reached Goreno. It has all 
 gone where it is needed for the Great Cause." 
 
 The curtain partitioning the two rooms moved 
 ever so slightly; three elbow-lengths behind Do- 
 bry's back, a dark, hairy face appeared through 
 
DOBRY GOES INTO THE NIGHT 139 
 
 a slit In the curtain. Two snake-like eyes glinted 
 in the candle-light and watched the young man's 
 every movement, glancing now and then at the 
 money-lender with a knowing, reassuring look. 
 Stavry, facing the partition, caught the glance but 
 made no sign in reply. 
 
 " Dobry," the money-lender smiled as he spoke, 
 *' I am old enough to be your god-father, and 
 yet you talk to me as if I were a ballad-humming 
 moon-calf. The Great Cause! Great pumpkin- 
 heads I What is the use of talking? I can't make 
 any fine declarations about freedom, but I can 
 tell you just this: Murad Pasha would pay me 
 yellow gold for the story of the Krividol Gulch." 
 
 " Yes," Dobry hissed, " and squeeze It after- 
 wards from you and from all of us ! " 
 
 " Oh, I'll look after my interests, never worry," 
 Stavry answered placidly. " I shall get my 
 share." 
 
 " You shall ! " Suddenly Dobry's hand flashed 
 like lightning to his belt, but quick as a viper out- 
 speeding the lightning, a dark shape shot through 
 the partition behind him; Manio's claw-shaped 
 hands grasped him by the throat and jerked him 
 backwards. The Icon-painter whirled; half-free- 
 ing himself from Manio's clutch, he made for 
 Stavry, dragging Tosho's night-watchman after 
 him. 
 
 "Stab him, you fool — stab!" Stavry shouted 
 at the shepherd, all the while wheeling out of Do- 
 bry's way. But the stabbing business had appar- 
 
I4Q PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 ently no attractions for Manic; he was satisfied 
 with holding the icon-painter back. 
 
 " Get out before you're killed," he cried at the 
 money-lender. "Get outl" 
 
 Stavry saw the knife gleaming, seeking a place 
 to strike. With both hands, he grasped Dobry's 
 wrist, wrenched the knife from the icon-painter's 
 grasp, and sent it spinning across the room. It 
 buried itself in the boards of the opposite wall. 
 
 " Stab him, Manio ! " 
 
 But Dobry jerked his right hand free and drew 
 the revolver from His belt. His fingers sought 
 the trigger; Stavry's eyes popped out of their 
 sockets. 
 
 At last the shepherd was ready to act. Ram- 
 like, he lurched against Dobry's knees, and the 
 bullet intended for Stavry crashed through the 
 ceiling. The impact sent the icon-painter reeling 
 to the floor, Manio on top of him. Stavry jumped 
 to the window and threw it open, shouting blood 
 and murder. 
 
 Doors banged, opened; soldiers from a nearby 
 tavern crowded in, ready for any sort of a riot. 
 
 " It is Dobry the Iconograph," a grizzly-faced 
 villager gasped, pushing forward curiously. 
 "What's been going on here, Stavry?" 
 
 The old man leaned heavily on the table, try- 
 ing to collect his wits. 
 
 "He's a murderer and a thief," he cried, his 
 voice high and nervous. " Out with him ! Out 
 with all of you! Away to the Pasha! Here's 
 
DOBRY GOES INTO THE NIGHT 141 
 
 the man who can tell where the Sultan's tax-money 
 went." 
 
 "What's this?" Jemil Effendi exclaimed sud- 
 denly, shoving his way forward. " I guess this 
 matter belongs to us." 
 
 The villagers slunk out of the room at the first 
 opportunity, and the soldiers fell back, talking 
 excitedly. Left free for a moment, Dobry struck 
 a sulphur match and applied it to the black fuse 
 projecting from his dark red sash. Stavry kept 
 on explaining: 
 
 " He had come to murder me, Jemil Effendi, 
 because I am a loyal subject of Murad Pasha and 
 because I found out who robbed the tax-wagon." 
 
 " Tie up the cur! " the Turk shouted, " and off 
 to the konakf " 
 
 Two zaptiehs made for Dobry; but the icon- 
 painter was already up, smiling contemptuously. 
 
 " Hold on, friends," he sang out to them. 
 " Don't trouble yourselves. We'll all go in a 
 minute 1 " 
 
 The shining sphere of. death spluttered in his 
 hand; the Turks, fascinated, gazed at the short, 
 curly tail; paralyzed with terror, they were un- 
 able to move. Manio crossed himself trem- 
 blingly, but the old money-lender burst out with 
 an oath and grabbed for the fast-vanishing fuse. 
 
 *' It is yours," Dobry cried, and glancing at 
 the bomb to make sure, he hurled it at Stavrv's 
 feet. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THE RED SAINT GEORGE 
 
 THE next morning in the studio Mirko 
 watched the clock nervously. His brother 
 had told him to wait until half-past eight, 
 then take the fiery red icon of Saint George up 
 to the cell of the hermit. 
 
 He had never been there. It must be a long, 
 lonesome climb, and what couldn't that hermit 
 do to him, up there in the cave, or perhaps Turk- 
 ish soldiers somewhere on the way! Still, he had 
 to go; Dobry had said that the holy man could 
 pray Mirko's soul straight to hell if he disobeyed. 
 So the twelve-year-old waited, hoping every min- 
 ute to hear Dobry's footsteps. 
 
 He unrolled the icon once more, and shivered 
 as he looked at it. It was the oddest Saint George 
 ever painted. Instead of the writhing dragon 
 swallowing the gallant saint's lance in orthodox 
 style, it had thrown itself across the horse, and 
 the knight lay on the ground, torn by the mon- 
 ster's talons. Only the little princess was the 
 same, running in terror along the cliff. Mirko 
 was always fond of watching his brother's prin- 
 cesses in their escape. Whatever would happen 
 
 142 
 
THE I^ED SAINT GEORGE 143 
 
 to this one, now that Saint George himself had 
 been killed? 
 
 A quarter-past eight. The lad rolled up the 
 picture and waited, cap in hand. The house was 
 very still. Aunt Zora had gone to the market, 
 and their servant girl had profited by the occa- 
 sion to pay a kitchen-visit to a friend down the 
 street. 
 
 Mirko listened. Yes, the street gate had swung 
 open; some one was coming up. Hurried steps 
 shook the balcony, nearer, nearer. Dobry had 
 come at last ! Mirko sprang to the door in relief, 
 threw it open — and rushed against a Turkish 
 zaptieh. Four others followed close behind. The 
 man threw the boy against the door-jamb and 
 pushed into the room. 
 
 The lad clutched his icon closely and rolled out 
 of the way. Behind the table he scrambled to 
 his feet, glaring hatred and defiance at the Turks. 
 They were ransacking every nook and corner of 
 the studio, jerking the pictures from the walls and 
 ripping the carpets off the floor; but the search 
 was fruitless. 
 
 " Where's the little pup we met at the door? " 
 the leader cried. " I'll wager he could tell us 
 where the papers are." 
 
 "I can't!" Mirko cried stoutly. "I don't 
 Know anything about anything." 
 
 " Don't play that game, sonny." 
 
 Tossun Effendi switched him into the center of 
 the room. 
 
144 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 " Maybe this will help you remember." 
 
 The second blow sent the lad reeling. 
 
 "But I don't, Effendi," Mirko gasped, chok- 
 ing his tears. " Dobry never lets me see things." 
 
 One of the zaptiehs had been tossing the pic- 
 tures broadcast out of the window into the river. 
 He exclaimed quickly: 
 
 " Hey, keep the pup. We'll use him later. 
 Here we are ! " 
 
 He held up a small water-color, painted on 
 heavy paper. Running his finger along the edge, 
 he ripped a second sheet off the back, so neatly 
 pasted as to be almost invisible. 
 
 " Just happened to feel it," he exclaimed tri- 
 umphantly. 
 
 The others rushed to his side: several closely 
 written sheets and a drawing, evidently a map, 
 were in the pocket. 
 
 " Look here, bub," the Effendi called, "what's 
 this little picture we have found?" 
 
 Mirko wiped his eyes on his coat-sleeve and 
 looked at the paper. 
 
 " I don't know," he said, dodging quickly. 
 
 Tossun Effendi unsheathed his keen-edged 
 yataghan. He stropped It once or twice on his 
 greasy pantaloon and ran the cold steel lightly 
 across the middle of the boy's head. 
 
 " Do you know what we do with stubborn little 
 warts? We slice them down fine, and then — zip, 
 off they go I " 
 
 He let the sharp point travel down the lad's 
 
THE RED SAINT GEORGE 145 
 
 spine, pressing just hard enough to cut his jacket. 
 The boy screamed in terror and grabbed the 
 Turk's arm. 
 
 "Effendi, don't— don't!" he shrieked. 
 
 "Do you think you know any better now? 
 Look closely." 
 
 Mirko stared tremblingly at the paper. Fi- 
 nally he answered: 
 
 " It's a — a picture of the Krividol Gulch." 
 
 '* Told you so 1 " Tossun exclaimed. 
 
 The Turks crowded eagerly. There was a long 
 line, evidently the road, then various zigzags here 
 and there, some ink-splotches, but no writing of 
 any sort. 
 
 "Who drew it?" the Turk demanded. The 
 boy's tears were dry. He was stubbornly silent. 
 
 "Who drew it? Speak! " The Turk began 
 whetting his knife again. The child watched it 
 gleam against the dirty pantaloon. He pressed 
 his lips together closely. This time he would not 
 tell. 
 
 " One, two," the Turk began. He pressed 
 the blade on the boy's head, harder, harder. 
 Mirko felt a sharp pain. He threw himself on 
 the floor, grasping the officer's knees, i 
 
 "Please, please, Effendi!" he sobbed. "It 
 was not — it was — Dobry." The Effendi had to 
 stoop to hear the name. 
 
 " All right, pup," he said, pushing him off with 
 his foot, "we shall not slice you this time, but 
 your wits must be quicker hereafter." 
 
146 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 "But where's my brother?" the lad begged. 
 "Where is he?" 
 
 "Your brother? Well," Tossun began, but a 
 nudge from one of the zaptiehs made him change 
 his mind. He laughed into the boy's frightened 
 eyes. " Your brother has gone all to pieces on 
 account of this Krividol Gulch robbery, pup. 
 He'll need to be put together again. Unless you 
 tell us all about him, some devils will have no 
 end of fun with him." 
 
 " Something like this, you know." One of the 
 men caught the lad by the foot. " They'll try 
 to find out how he is screwed together." 
 
 He began to twist the boy's foot and leg. The 
 child cried out again and kicked violently. The 
 others laughed and the man let go. 
 
 Mirko staggered to his feet. 
 
 "But where is he now?" he persisted. 
 
 " I really don't know where all of him is," 
 Tossun laughed. "If he were a Turk I could 
 tell you." Still Mirko did not understand the 
 ghastly truth. 
 
 " I don't see why the devils should torture my 
 brother so," he sobbed. " He is not half as much 
 to blame as that monk, his Holiness with the long 
 name." 
 
 "Ho, ho! What's this? Maybe this little 
 muskrat knows more than we think. What monk 
 is it, bub?" 
 
 The twelve-year-old brain brimmed with a 
 sudden idea. 
 
THE RED SAINT GEORGE 147 
 
 " What will you do if I tell you? Will you let 
 my big brother come back? " 
 
 The officer considered, grinning at his compan- 
 ions. " Well, now, I am not sure but that we 
 :would. In fact, I am quite sure the Pasha would 
 be glad to exchange the monk, or anybody in fact, 
 Tor your big brother. The Pasha was fond of 
 your big brother, you know." 
 
 Mirko crept under the table and fished out his 
 icon. 
 
 " See," he cried, " I was to take this to the 
 monk up in his cave, if Dobry did not come back. 
 I don't know where the cave is, but Dobry told 
 me; it is up " 
 
 " Look here, zaptieh," the officer interrupted, 
 handing the papers over to one of the men, " take 
 these to Murad Pasha. I'll get some help and 
 we shall all go with this chick. I have a suspicion 
 that we are going to catch some real gander this 
 iime. Now, sonny, lead on." 
 
 "But are you sure?" Mirko urged. "Will 
 you let my brother free as soon as we get 
 back?" 
 
 " He'll be toasting his shins right in this room 
 half an hour after we get back to Goreno with 
 your monk," Tossun assured him. " But if you 
 don't lead us the right way" — he took hold of 
 ■the boy's head and spoke through gritted teeth — 
 "we'll cut Dobry's ears and nose and tongue and 
 head one after another." 
 
 " Come along, come quickly ! " A zaptieh 
 
148 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 pinched the lad. He grabbed his cap and ran 
 along the balcony. The others followed rapidly. 
 It seemed to Mirko that the Turks were very 
 slow climbers as he hurried ahead up the moun- 
 tain trail. 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THRICE AN ORPHAN 
 
 THE day had been one of fasting but not of 
 prayer for Boyan the Hermit. The wild, 
 lonely cave that had charmed him before 
 was now oppressive beyond endurance. He wan- 
 dered into the woods; a deep snow ha:d fallen 
 during the night and covered every trace of au- 
 tumn. In the summer he always looked forward 
 eagerly to the coming of the snow. He had sym- 
 bolized it as a purging of the forest; now it was 
 like a shroud. 
 
 He climbed to the topmost summit of the moun- 
 tain, where the crest stood out, bald above the 
 pines. The wind swept about him and waved 
 through his thin cassock. All around peak rose 
 upon peak. Elusive giants' hoods of impalpable 
 snow mists they seemed to him ; serene, cold, apa- 
 thetic. Along the lower mountain slopes and 
 down the valleys he could see the homes of men 
 and women. Thin columns of smoke bespoke 
 warmth, fireside joys, and good cheer. The deep 
 snow of the mountainside seemed to melt away as 
 it reached these lowland homesteads ; and around 
 
 149 
 
I50 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 them the dark green of the pine-woods stood out 
 unchallenged by the white gleam of winter. It 
 was still autumn down there; all about him and 
 in his heart blew the winter wind. Did it blow 
 where she was traveling now? Was the snow 
 deep across her path? Did the blast of loneliness 
 chill her as it chilled him? Did she wish for the 
 warm glow of the cave fire? Did she still scorn 
 the eremite? 
 
 Boyan looked longest in the direction where 
 Goreno filled the valley on both sides of the 
 Ladna River and bulged over the mountainside. 
 Was she there, or had she set out straight for 
 Uskub? All day her eyes had haunted him: 
 looking at him, piercing him through and through 
 weighing him in pitiless balances and condemning, 
 scorning as a brave woman's eyes scorn a coward. 
 He tried to remember how they had smiled dur- 
 ing those two weeks; but scorn and contempt 
 came back to mock him. In vain he thought of her 
 warm look across the evening fire-glow; every- 
 thing was chilly now. The wind whistled through 
 the forest. 
 
 Boyan shook himself. He had consecrated his 
 life to prayer and meditation, yet in this first trial 
 he had fallen. Temptation of Satan indeed: it 
 had made his life once more chaotic, it had robbed 
 his soul of peace and put the old doubt in its 
 stead. 
 
 Could Adalena be right after all? 
 
 No one knew the story of Turkish pillage bet- 
 
THRICE AN ORPHAN 151 
 
 ter than Boyan the Hermit. He was thrice an 
 orphan by massacre. Amid the smoky turmoil of 
 Grozno village, to the east of Adrlanople, his 
 poor mother had fought with death-pain and 
 death-fear in giving him birth. The child was 
 three weeks old when the news reached Grozno 
 that the Russian army of liberation had crossed 
 the Balkans and was marchl'ng on Thrace. 
 
 The joy of father and mother lasted a few 
 brief hours, to be followed by the terror, the 
 anguish, the agony of a wholly unprovoked Turk- 
 ish raid from Kirk Kilisseh. Boyan's parents 
 fled toward the Stranja hills. His mother Slava 
 endured the journey In wagon and on horse- 
 back bravely, but the pursuing Turks threatened 
 to catch up with the fleeing villagers. Faster and 
 faster the peasants fled, shedding their property 
 along the way, to lighten their load and to gain 
 time by delaying their hunters, as pursuing wolves 
 are delayed by killed horses. Kitchen utensils, 
 house treasures, sheep, oxen, wagons, all were 
 abandoned in the mad flight, — and the horses gal- 
 loped up the steep mountain-roads and trails. 
 
 But when the refugees reached the secure fast- 
 nesses of the Stranja, death claimed the victim 
 saved from Turkish brutality, and a grave was 
 dug for Boyan's pale mother under a Stranja 
 pine-tree. Weeping peasant women mothered the 
 babe, and burial chants sought the ear of God 
 from the Stranja heights, — chants and prayers 
 for deliverance, prayers and songs of joy, while 
 
152' PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 the Russian hosts swept in martial triumph across 
 the plains of Thrace. 
 
 Boyan's father had fought alone, before the 
 Russians heard of Bulgaria's woes. Now he left 
 his son in a neighbor-woman's lap and went back 
 to the plains to fight with those who fought to 
 free the Bulgarian folk. He saw Adrianople fall; 
 he saw Russian generals shake hands with Turk- 
 ish pashas in sight of the minarets of Constan- 
 tinople, and his heart glowed with the certainty 
 of freedom. 
 
 But the Christian generals of peace scoffed at 
 the victors of a dozen battlefields. At the Berlin 
 Congress the Bulgarian land was chopped up into 
 five chunks, and the chunk where Boyan had first 
 breathed the groan-laden air of Thrace was 
 handed back to the Red Sultan. Grozno was 
 Turkish again. 
 
 The orphan-child's ceaseless cry tore his fath- 
 er's heart; for little Boyan's sake, he decided to 
 marry again. His second bride, Nedelka, was so 
 beautiful a girl that Grozno peasants wondered 
 how the Turks had left her alone. Had the 
 marriage been celebrated quietly or not at all, 
 Boyan might have remembered a second mother; 
 — but what perverse Fate sent Nedib Bey to 
 Grozno on the very day of Nedelka's wed- 
 ding, and directed a beastly gaze at the black 
 wealth of hair, the long lashes, the soft plump 
 neck? 
 
 Nedib Bey began with pleasantries: Would 
 
THRICE AN ORPHAN XS3. 
 
 the bride begrudge the newcomers a round of 
 kisses? Stingy Nedelka! Amidst the panicky 
 outcries of the wedding procession, heavy blows 
 on the head left Boyan's father unconscious in the 
 street, and the bride, strapped upon Nedib Bey's 
 saddle, went where hundreds of her sisters, from 
 the Black Sea to the ^Egean, had gone before 
 her, never to come back.' 
 
 And at home motherless Boyan cried in vain 
 for a caress which an inscrutable Destiny denied 
 him. He grew unmothered. His father left the 
 village after the lad could move about. From 
 mountain to mountain they roamed, the length 
 and breadth of Thrace and Macedonia. To 
 Boyan's father every Bey was a Nedib Bey, and 
 every Turk a Grozno raider. But vengeance did 
 not bring back Slava to the father nor Nedelka 
 to the orphan, and for each drop of blood spilt 
 in thp valleys, streams of Macedonian blood ran 
 red after orphan and widower had escaped to the 
 mountain fastnesses. New Slavas, new Nedelkas 
 paid the price, and the more the brigand tried to 
 pay the old score, the more the new scores multi- 
 plied, Turkdom cursed the mountain-rover, but 
 it made innocent men and women and young girls 
 pay the price. He, who had set out to avenge 
 his and his country's wrongs, found his name 
 anathema to Turk and Bulgar alike. The people 
 bent their necks in dumb stolidity and cursed the 
 fire-brand agitator. 
 
 He had scorned his life in a wild dash to save 
 
IJ4 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 a peasant girl's life near a village in the Kotchana 
 region; to forestall a massacre, her father be- 
 trayed his hiding-place to the very same Turk 
 who had snatched his daughter. 
 
 "Go away!" Boyan's father gasped as the 
 youth bent over him for the last time. " There 
 is no fighting chance in Macedonia. Alone we 
 can do nothing. Go away, my son, and find 
 peace." 
 
 Contact with an ascetic enthusiast had di- 
 rected his course to this Pirin cave, an exile 
 from the world and a stranger to all human 
 interests. 
 
 " I have taken my vow, I shall not turn aside," 
 Boyan the Hermit said firmly. 
 
 But gray-brown eyes, scorn-blazing eyes, and 
 eyes warm and moist with love and hope undying, 
 haunted the motherless, loveless heart. 
 
 The sky grew dull and leaden. Boyan ached 
 with cold. He shut his lips grimly and set out 
 for his cave: no fire should sparkle that night, 
 he would do penance on his knees until morning. 
 By that time he would know that his way was 
 best. 
 
 In his eagerness to begin, the hermit ran at 
 full speed down the slope and reached his rocky 
 home warm and ravenously hungry. It was dark 
 in the pines, and as he turned in the path toward 
 the cave, he saw it lighted by a dim, friendly 
 glow. Scarcely believing his senses, he rushed 
 forward. 
 
THRICE AN ORPHAN 155 
 
 Before the fire, lying on one of the blankets 
 that had served as partition, Adalena was fast 
 asleep. Pushed slightly away from her was the 
 empty kettle that had held the breakfast he had 
 prepared so carefully in the morning. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THE HERMIT ANSWERS 
 
 BOYAN asked no questions. WKere she 
 had gone, why she had returned, all this 
 was nothing to him. He knew only that 
 she was there, In his cave, where he had first 
 watched her and where he had never hoped to 
 see her again. All notion of penance fled from 
 his mind. He knelt beside her, enraptured with 
 every feature, holding his breath lest he disturb 
 her. 
 
 The storm outside was gathering; the wind 
 rioted about the cave. He tiptoed across and 
 laid a log on the fire, watching the flames shoot 
 up and the light play over her face and long 
 braids of hair. An irresistible longing to touch 
 her, if only with his finger-tips, came over him. 
 He remembered how his hands had tingled that 
 first night and he had believed it was the fever. 
 
 She moved slightly and the blankets slipped 
 from under her head, leaving it on the hard stone 
 floor. Boyan drew another to him and folded it 
 thickly. Carefully, lest he waken her, he slipped 
 the improvised pillow beneath her Head, She 
 
 156 
 
THE HERMIT ANSWERS 157 
 
 snuggled her cheek against the soft wool, 
 stretched comfortably, and gave a deep sigh. 
 Her eyelids flickered, opened, and she looked up 
 at him, her eyes misty with half-sleep. She 
 stretched one arm out on the blanket and smiled, 
 a slow, drowsy smile. 
 
 Boyan gasped quickly. 
 
 "Adalenal Darling 1" 
 
 He dropped on his knees and lifted her face in 
 Els hands, his eyes thirsty, feverish, his lips whis- 
 pering the prayers that the youth of man has 
 never yet whispered to marble goddesses and Vir- 
 gins lithographed. The candle before the holy 
 image sputtered low in its socket. Mother and^ 
 Child smiled benignly on the pair before the flam- 
 ing pine-logs. The wind outdoors had stopped to 
 listen, the woodland evening enveloped them on 
 all sides in a veil of twilight mist, and the rocky 
 floor of the eremite's cave was an arbor of 
 love. 
 
 She trembled protestingly at first, but he held 
 her firmly, answering each tremor with a kiss hot- 
 ter, more passionate than the last. 
 
 "You are mine now; minel Boyan the Her- 
 mit's I You are my goddess, you my Virgin, my 
 love, Adalena ! " 
 
 Evening nodded into night; the candle before 
 the Holy Mother burned out; a bed of pine coals 
 glowed drowsily, and the wind outside had quite 
 died down. 
 
 Adalena ran her hands caressingly through his 
 
158 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 hair, uttering not a word, lost in thought. In won- 
 der, in all that makes a woman live, and suffer. 
 
 The last log crumbled into coals, and the flame 
 went out. The complete extinction of light 
 brought the girl to herself. 
 
 " Boyan, my lad, you have eaten nothing 1 I 
 robbed you of your supper. Come, pile on some 
 more firewood; I must cook you another. And 
 you will need some rest to-night. Ours Is a long 
 road to-morrow — the road of freedom." 
 
 " The road to freedom, Adalena ! I have an 
 uncle who escaped to Bulgaria. There, in Sofia, 
 no devil-Turks molest, no " 
 
 " Sofia ? Run away to Sofia — ^we two ? And 
 what of Macedonia?" She looked at him, puz- 
 zled, unbelieving. 
 
 He gave a gesture of Impatience. 
 
 " Macedonia will be no worse for our absence; 
 perhaps much better." 
 
 "Boyan!" 
 
 The girl pushed his shoulders back with both 
 hands and searched his eyes. Her own were 
 burning. 
 
 " Can you mean you would take me away from 
 here, from our work? Can you ask this after 
 yesterday, after to-night?" 
 
 " What Is your work? " he asked bitterly. " I 
 have lost every one I ever loved In just such at- 
 tempts at revolt, and all to no purpose. You are 
 the first happiness I have had In life. I will not 
 give you up." He tried to take her forcibly. 
 
THE HERMIT ANSWERS 159 
 
 " No." She thrust him away. " You are not 
 worth it." 
 
 "Adalena, milla moyaf" he pled. "Come 
 with me, fly with me to freedom. Let us work 
 for Macedonia from there." 
 
 "And our work would be — feeling sorry for 
 those we leave here," she said scornfully. " Yes, 
 that is work — for a coward! " Her voice trem- 
 bled; she sprang toward the cave-entrance. But 
 Boyan reached it first. 
 
 " You shall not ! " he cried masterfully. " Not 
 one step until dawn." 
 
 She stood a moment undecided, then turned 
 sullenly and seated herself by the fire. Boyan 
 came back and watched the dying coals from the 
 other side. Neither uttered a sound. 
 
 Midnight had come and gone; the cave was 
 dark; silence and warmth combined against the 
 two and wiped out the deep-graven agony of their 
 souls into a blank tablet of dreamless sleep 
 
 It was broad daylight, and late ; the sun shone 
 brilliantly on the snow. The events of the past 
 night crowded upon them. Adalena shook her- 
 self, and at the same time Boyan rose stifHy from 
 the other side of the ashes. 
 
 " I think I had better have something to eat 
 before I start," she said, trying to speak quietly. 
 He came and stood beside her. 
 
 "You are going, Adalena?" 
 
 " Going." 
 
 She did not ask him what she craved to ask, 
 
i6o PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 and he made no comment. They ate together. 
 Then the girl went out and looked at the sun. It 
 was well toward midday. She ran down to the 
 main trail and searched the valley road anxiously. 
 Nobody was in sight; she came back to the cave. 
 
 " Hermit," she said sternly, but her voice trem- 
 bled on the word, " an important piece of work 
 was carried out by the Comrades last night and 
 a message was to be here for me by noon. I 
 must not wait any longer. If it comes, will you 
 keep it until we — until I can get it in some way? " 
 
 Boyan bowed. 
 
 " I shall keep it for you, Adalena." 
 
 She began gathering her possessions together. 
 It was surely past noon. She must start. Yet she 
 lingered. Boyan leaned gloomily against the en- 
 trance, now watching her, now staring Into the 
 forest. 
 
 " I can not," he kept repeating, " I — can 
 notl" 
 
 She was ready to start, yet once more she stood 
 before him, looking steadfastly in his eyes. Her 
 hand lay pleadingly on his shoulders. 
 
 "Boyan, will you not — come?" 
 
 ■" Adalena," he answered, " you think me a 
 coward. If I believed in your cause, life or death 
 would be indifferent to me. But — I know I am 
 right. What you attempt is futile. I have caused 
 all the massacres I am going to cause." 
 
 Her cheeks flushed with the humiliation or an- 
 other failure. 
 
THE HERMIT ANSWERS i6i 
 
 " Fare thee well." 
 
 But he clasped her in his arms fiercely, pushing 
 back her face. 
 
 " Once," he said passionately. Though she 
 shook her head in refusal, he pressed her lips 
 hotly to his own. 
 
 She struggled away. Without looking back, 
 she went straight out through the forest, avoiding 
 the familiar goat-path and, cutting across the 
 detour It made, headed directly fojr the Struma 
 valley, Uskub-bound. Her face burned hotly as 
 she stumbled on over the snow-covered stumps 
 and branches. 
 
 Boyan stood rigid in the doorway, watching 
 the spot where she had disappeared among the 
 trees. 
 
 A boy's voice roused him: 
 
 "There he is 1 Didn't I tell you? Now let 
 my Bati Dobry come home." 
 
 The twelve-year-old was running breathlessly 
 up the path, followed by four Turkish officers. 
 Boyan turned quickly to meet them. They seized 
 him roughly. 
 
 "What have I to do with you?" he asked in 
 bewilderment. 
 
 " Never mind about that, slippery-tongue. We 
 know who you are," one of the Turks snarled at 
 him, trying to slip the handcuffs over his wrists. 
 
 " But I don't understand ! " he insisted, strug- 
 gling to free himself. 
 
 " Oh, yes, he does I " Mirko danced excitedly 
 
1 62 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 first on one foot and then on the other. " He Is 
 the very same Holiness with the long name who 
 was at my brother's. He looks like him, any- 
 way, even if he has grown a beard since then." 
 
 A light broke over Boyan. They were looking 
 for a leader — a leader who wore cassock and 
 hood. His struggles gradually grew less. They 
 bound his hands securely. 
 
 " Now, come along." Tossun Effendi yanked 
 him forward while the others ransacked the 
 cave. 
 
 " I'll come all right," Boyan retorted, and the 
 new, strange tones of his voice startled him. He 
 seemed to hear his rebel father shouting defiance 
 at the very teeth of his foes. " But be you a little 
 careful how you act. The leader of a whole 
 people can't stoop to talk to yellow pimples like 
 you." 
 
 Tossun Effendi's face purpled with anger. His 
 hand trembled on his sword; but — the hermit- 
 monk was right. He dared not strike yet. 
 
 The procession went down the path. Mirko 
 tagged, hopeful yet anxious. Finally he tugged 
 at the last Turk's coat. 
 
 " Efifendi," he begged, "will my brother surely 
 be home soon? " 
 
 The Turk shook him off roughly. 
 
 *' Are you still here, you little bit of vermin? 
 Didn't we tell you your cur of a brother went 3,11 
 to pieces last night? Yes; blew himself to bits 
 and killed Stavry the money-lender and a few 
 
THE HERMIT ANSWERS 163 
 
 sons of Allah besides. Now, off with you, or I'll 
 send you after them. Psstl" 
 
 The lad's blood froze. And he had betrayed 
 his Holiness I The loss of both his honor and 
 his brother was too much for the twelve-year-old. 
 He threw himself face downward by the side of 
 the road, sobbing bitterly. 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 " TAKE ME TO CONSTANTINOPLE I " 
 
 IN THE court-room of Murad Pasha conster- 
 nation reigned. Not in the memory of the 
 oldest Osmanll in Goreno had a prisoner 
 faced the justice of Islam with such an arrogant 
 disdain, such an almost condescending pity to- 
 ward those who could spin his destiny any way 
 they pleased, as a street urchin spins his top. 
 
 The news that the bash-komitaji, the master- 
 rebel, had at last been captured traveled far and 
 wide : this unexpected success, following promptly 
 on the tragedy at Stavry's house, wrought confu- 
 sion among the Comrades, added an elbow- 
 length to the stature of Tossun Effendi, and sub- 
 tracted from the almanac of Murad Pasha at 
 least twenty winters. At last he would show 
 those who had tried to pull wool over his eyes 
 that he was the same old wolf who had in days 
 gone by made the Shar uplands resound with 
 terror. 
 
 All the prominent Turks in the Goreno district 
 were on hand for the preliminary examination. 
 It was a distinct local " occasion." Hence coffee 
 
 164 
 
"TO CONSTANTINOPLE" 165 
 
 and sweets were in order, and Christian maidens 
 a-plenty were forced to wait on the Mohamme- 
 dan dandies, to lend color and style, saltanat, to 
 the ceremony. Murad Pasha was a good host, 
 the Turks all agreed, with unquestionable taste in 
 beauty feminine. 
 
 The greater, therefore, was the disappointment 
 of the assembly, come to gloat and scorn and 
 punish, when the prisoner, instead of begging for 
 mercy and cowering in despair, faced his judge 
 with an air of breezy contempt, as if the Pasha 
 of Goreno were beneath his consideration. 
 
 The first shock of it took Murad by surprise 
 and distinctly embarrassed him. The peasant 
 maidens, heretofore waiting in pale trepidation 
 on the Turkish dignitaries, seemed suddenly to 
 gain self-confidence and looked defiantly at the 
 leering, smirky Osmanlis sipping coffee on the 
 low divans. But Tossun Effendi, who had led 
 the chained captive into the room, borrowed cour- 
 age from the obvious discomfiture of his chief 
 and, recognizing his opportunity, gave Boyan a 
 vicious kick. 
 
 " What airs are you putting on, you black- 
 head? Do you think you are the garlanded bride- 
 groom at a wedding feast? Look down at the 
 floor, and bend that neck of yours or I'll break 
 it!" 
 
 Murad Pasha regained his composure, glared 
 severely at the bash-komitaji before him, and 
 began his examination in high, stentorian tones. 
 
1 66 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 "Name?" he thundered at him in Turkish. 
 
 " Bezimeni, The Nameless One," the hermit 
 answered in calm Bulgarian, 
 
 " A madhouse name ! " Murad Pasha spat in 
 disgust. " Surname ? " 
 
 *' The Sultan and I need no surnames," the 
 prisoner replied. 
 
 "Where were you born?" 
 
 "Eh?" The monk seemed surprised at the 
 question. 
 
 "Where do you come from, you lunatic?" 
 
 " Oh, from the huts of shepherds and upland- 
 ers and valley-men," Boyan recited in liturgic 
 style, " from a thousand villages and hamlets, 
 from field and river-bank and mountain-pass " 
 
 " Sst! " Murad burst out in a round of mouth- 
 filling profanities. " Whom do you know in these 
 parts?" 
 
 " All good Bulgarians and none." 
 
 "What passport do you carry?" 
 
 " Macedonian." 
 
 " You lie 1 There is no Macedonian kingdom." 
 
 " There will be one presently." 
 
 " You don't know in whose presence you are ! " 
 Murad swore. 
 
 " You do not know to whom you are talking," 
 the prisoner calmly retorted. 
 
 " Have you ever been tried before? " 
 
 " By bunglers of your standing? Never." 
 
 The Turks looked at each other in utter stupe- 
 faction. Had he been a sheep-hearted shepherd, 
 
"TO CONSTANTINOPLE" 167 
 
 he would have been kicked into needless submis- 
 sion twenty times over; but even Tossun Effendi's 
 rage had subsided. As for Murad Pasha, the 
 cool, sneering composure of his victim seemed to 
 fascinate and hold dominion over him. The one- 
 time fruit-peddler recognized his master; he felt 
 increasingly with every question that the rebel of 
 rebels stood before him and he determined to 
 keep his temper until he had coaxed, wheedled, 
 or forced a confession. 
 
 " You are a series, irascible insurgent," he 
 said in frank admiration. "Sign your name 
 here." 
 
 " I can't write it In the language of tyranny 1 " 
 
 "Then write it in the language of liberty," 
 Murad sneered. 
 
 "That language you can not understand — 
 yet." 
 
 Murad took up another cue. 
 
 "What is your trade?" 
 
 " Ridding the land of weeds like your Excel- 
 lency," Boyan bowed. 
 
 Tossun Effendi shook his fist, but Murad waved 
 him off. 
 
 " Did you rob the tax-wagon in the Krividol 
 Gulch?" 
 
 Boyan smiled. 
 
 " I did," he answered. 
 
 "Alone?" 
 
 "No, I had helpers." 
 
 Murad leaned forward. 
 
.168, PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 "Who were they?" he asked. 
 
 Boyan smiled more broadly still. 
 
 " Oh, the stupid Turkish guards you sent with 
 the money." 
 
 " Who was with you ? " 
 
 " The God of Justice. Are you acquainted, 
 Graybeard?" 
 
 Murad winced but proceeded. 
 
 *' How did you rob the wagon? " he ques- 
 tioned. 
 
 The hermit drew himself up. 
 
 "That," he said firmly, "that I can not dis- 
 close to Albanian thieves like the Pasha of Go- 
 reno. No, nor to hawk-eyed, wolf-jawed Kurds 
 like Akiff Pasha of Uskub. No, nor to flabby, 
 floursack-heads like Abdul Pasha of Salonica. 
 My story is the story of a whole people. Do 
 you think I shall trust a noonday robber with the 
 secret of a nation? 
 
 "Torture me to death," he continued warmly; 
 " my story dies with me — and you will pay dearly 
 for the loss of that story, Murad! I hear you 
 have boasted of my capture, and sent a message 
 to Akiff Pasha about it. Akiff is your superior; 
 he will order you to send me on to Uskub. Yet 
 Akiff Pasha will learn no more from me than you 
 have learned. Only in Constantinople will I 
 speak. Only to the Sultan will I tell my story. 
 Take me to Constantinople 1 " 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 THE THIRD WIFE 
 
 IN Murad Pasha's harem sunshine mixed with 
 music and the low chatter of women. Three 
 of the wives played cards; the fourth, who 
 was really Murad's third, lay on a low divan and 
 looked on in scornful silence. 
 
 A toy Pomeranian puppy nosed his way uncer- 
 tainly about the loose folds of her silken gown 
 and tried to lick her face. She shook him off, 
 but rubbed her cheek fondly against his long hair 
 when he whined. Slave girls crooned in low mel- 
 ancholy minors as they swayed rhythmically in the 
 dance or played soft airs on zithers and gipsy 
 harps. At the door two broad-shouldered, black- 
 skinned eunuch-guards gazed expressionless in the 
 distance. 
 
 The room, the common living-room of all the 
 Pasha's household, occupied half the second floor 
 of his long, rambling palace, overlooking in front 
 the main street of Goreno, and at the rear the 
 Ladna River with the Pirin Mountains beyond. 
 No curtains obstructed the view toward the 
 river, but the windows over the street were heav- 
 
 169 
 
I70 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 ily latticed. By these windows Mihirmah, the 
 third wife, lay in a mass of rich purple and brown 
 cushions — a picture to fascinate any male heart, 
 and intended for just that purpose. 
 
 Her hair, so deep a brown as to be almost 
 black in the shadows, lay in heavy masses over 
 her head and shoulders, and shaded eyes of an 
 even more deceptive brown. The creamy pale 
 yellow of the loose, shimmering veil, caught at 
 the waist by a gold-embroidered girdle, clung 
 about and only half-concealed her figure. A lan- 
 guor, alluring even in repose, made her slightest 
 gesture voluptuous, and added to her beauty an 
 elusive suggestion, something that enticed while 
 it held back, and promised what it would not 
 reveal — a cold intimacy and a most appealing dis- 
 dain. 
 
 Yet beneath the dreamy sensuousness of her 
 Oriental grace a blood of restless abandon pulsed 
 unceasingly. Her eyes roved about unsatisfied; 
 she was a huntress compelled to play the wrong 
 role in the chase, and therefore ill-content with 
 those before whom she fled. Had Mihirmah's 
 soul inhabited a man's body, chained hundreds 
 would have crept behind her chariot of triumph. 
 All the instincts of the conqueror clamored for 
 expression within her ; but she was a woman, with 
 only men to conquer, and Destiny, which handed 
 her over to Murad Pasha, denied her even the 
 joy of conquering her master. 
 
 Educated for the harem of the Sultan Abdul 
 
THE THIRD WIFE 171 
 
 Hamid, she had been given to Murad Pasha in 
 lieu of the governorship of Uskub, for which he 
 had petitioned. He accepted her perforce and 
 amused himself for a while with her beauty, but 
 treated her as an uncoveted prize. He was al- 
 ready in love with the young Zayleh, The reign 
 of the belle from Constantinople in Murad's 
 harem was all too brief and left her thwarted, 
 cheated of all her heart had desired, oppressed 
 by one unrelieved ennui. 
 
 To-day the news had gone about that Murad 
 Pasha was trying the bash-komitaji, a handsome 
 monk, and that the Pasha would march him about 
 the town before locking him up in jail. It prom- 
 ised to be a diversion at least, and Mihirmah had 
 stationed herself by the windows to watch for the 
 first appearance of the cavalcade as it wound 
 down the street. 
 
 The waiting grew tedious; the amusements of 
 the other wives angered her. She scorned to join 
 them and they hated her for it. 
 
 " It is your time to shuffle, Zayleh," Fatma, the 
 first wife, cried, laughing gaily. She had just 
 won a round and was in high spirits. Mihirmah 
 pushed aside her pillows and sat erect. 
 
 " Will you never stop this nonsense ? " she said. 
 " How can you keep at it a whole afternoon ! " 
 
 "And why shouldn't we. Thunder Hanoum?" 
 Fatma retorted. " I'm sure it is as much fun as 
 lolling about with a dog arid ruining one's 
 clothes." 
 
172 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 " Let her Be," Zayleh tossed the cards with 
 supreme indifference. " Of course she treasures 
 the puppy. It is all Murad Pasha ever gave her. 
 
 " Come here, Ali Bey," she called to her tod- 
 dling two-year-old. " Come, give your mother a 
 kiss." The sturdy lad ran up and threw his arms 
 about her neck with infant impetuosity. 
 
 Mihirmah shoved the dog to the floor and went 
 to the end of the room, choking back her tears 
 of rage and mortification. Zayleh did not know 
 how deeply she had cut nor how many nights 
 Mihirmah had prayed on the cold floor for the 
 gift that Allah denie'd. 
 
 A bugle sounded. The wives abandoned their 
 cards and ran to the windows, peeping from be- 
 hind the curtains. Mihirmah waved aside a bunch 
 of little slaves and reserved one lattice for herself. 
 
 "Allah multiply Murad Pasha's offspring," 
 the wives and women-slaves cried in chorus. 
 
 But it was a miserably short procession and 
 did not come prancing on as expected. 
 
 " Why," the youngest wife commented wonder- 
 ingly, " I don't see the Pasha's white horse at 
 all!" 
 
 " It isn't there," Fatma answered, " and Mu- 
 rad himself is not there." She gave a cry of de- 
 light. " But Sehm is — my Selim is riding at the 
 head." She pressed more closely to the lattice. 
 
 The interest of the others waned. Zayleh even 
 left the window and began playing with her baby. 
 Mihirmah did not move. There was something 
 
THE THIRD WIFE 173 
 
 peculiar about the order of the procession that 
 roused her curiosity. Selim Bey rode haughtily 
 at the head; she could easily distinguish his cruel, 
 dissipated face with its complacent smile. Be- 
 hind him half a dozen zaptiehs followed. Then 
 the lines separated, and between them walked a 
 solitary man in hood and cassock, his arms bound 
 behind him. The double lines closed again in 
 the rear. 
 
 Selim's mother's attention was quite taken up 
 with watching her adored firstborn. Mihirmah 
 knew that for once she was unobserved. Boldly 
 she pushed aside the lattice that obstructed her 
 view. The shutters gave, and Mihirmah looked 
 down unscreened on the horsemen riding stolidly 
 
 by. 
 
 The prisoner looked about him in proud uncon- 
 cern. His eyes wandered over the palace above 
 the outer wall — wandered, stopped. Eyes that 
 shot star-fire caught hi» eyes and held them. 
 
 It was just one moment, but for Mihirmah it 
 held a lifetime. Her face burned scarlet; she 
 drew back involuntarily. 
 
 Aisha, her life-long nurse and slave, shut the 
 lattice and drew her mistress away. " Hanoum!" 
 she protested. 
 
 " Aisha ! " Mihirmah caught the withered 
 hands in both her own. " He is the handsomest 
 man I ever saw — and a giaour holy man, a 
 monk!" 
 
 " SshI Hush, little rose," the old woman whis- 
 
174 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 pered. " They will hear you. Remember the 
 master." 
 
 " But he — the prisoner ! Oh, Aisha " She 
 
 checked her tongue, but her eyes glowed with 
 passion. 
 
 " Selim Bey will see his mother, Fatma Ha- 
 noum," one of the black eunuchs announced. 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 DELILAH 
 
 THE woman bowed low. Fatma ran for 
 ward, crying out in delight. It was not 
 often that Sellm Bey troubled himself to 
 visit his mother. He waved his hand in lordly 
 greeting to the other wives and submitted indiffer- 
 ently to his mother's caresses. 
 
 "There, there," he said, shaking her ofF. 
 " That will do. Let me sit down. Beastly hun- 
 gry." 
 
 She led him to a divan and seated herself be- 
 side him, now and then stroking his face, patting 
 ,his knees, and crying out at his beauty and the 
 style of his uniform. When his lunch came he 
 pushed her away, and she devoted her attention 
 to urging food on him, alternately praising its 
 quality and scolding the slaves that it was no 
 better. 
 
 " What brought you Here alone, Sellm? " she 
 asked him. " Where is the Pasha ? " 
 
 " Oh, he's recovering from the chagrin of his 
 trial, and a pretty mess he made of it, too. I 
 didn't hear it, but " he brdlce off. " Those 
 
 175 
 
176 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 Bulgar mules need a tighter rein," he finished. 
 
 " What is it? " his mother cried in alarm. " Is 
 it about that explosion? Have you had to fight? " 
 
 "Fight?" Selim smiled. "Well, a little I 
 One's life is worth about fifteen paras in Goreno ; 
 that is, outside of this harem." 
 
 "Selim I" Fatma nestled closely to her be- 
 loved child. 
 
 " The brigands robbed the tax-wagon, you see, 
 in the Krividol Gulch, and now only the money 
 planned for the summer harem is left. I suppose 
 the Pasha will have to send that to Uskub instead 
 and you ladies stay here next summer as usual." 
 
 A chorus of protesting womankind interrupted. 
 
 "We won't," Zayleh declared. " Murad 
 Pasha promised me I should surely have a new 
 palace by next spring." 
 
 " Afraid you must wait a while longer, baby," 
 Selim teased. 
 
 Zayleh was younger than the son ; indeed, Mu- 
 rad had considered marrying her to his eldest 
 before he himself became Infatuated. Selim 
 treated her with a freedom he never exercised 
 toward the other wives. 
 
 " You can't make a palace out of straw, and 
 the Pasha has squeezed all the money he can 
 from the district. Our only hope is to get that 
 two hundred thousand. But how this is to be 
 done the Pasha will never know until he learns 
 how to handle wily Bulgars. That monk, for 
 example Did you see him? " 
 
DELILAH 177 
 
 " How could I see anything buit you, darling 
 boy?" his mother purred. 
 
 " I saw him." The voice was rich and vibrant. 
 "Who is he?" 
 
 Selim looked up, then swore under his breath. 
 The Sultan's gift to the father had always fas- 
 cinated the son. The complacent epicure of Go- 
 reno felt the glamour of a hundred Stamboul se- 
 raglios in her every gesture, but it was far too 
 elusive, too subtle a glamour for Selim. Mihir- 
 mah knew her power over the rustic Lothario, 
 but she scorned the conquest. What joy in van- 
 quishing a heart that succumbed to any pretty 
 peasant girl's coarse red jacket? 
 
 "Whom did you see, beautiful one?" asked 
 Selim. 
 
 His eyes roved over her, sense drunken but 
 unsatisfied. 
 
 " That was the bash-komitaji, the Nameless 
 One he calls himself, and his lordly manner has 
 quite checkmated the old Pasha, judging from 
 what I heard about the trial. I wish I could have 
 a try at the high and mighty black-cap. Before I 
 was through, either I would know where that 
 money is or he wouldn't be able to tell. Then I'd 
 build a harem of my own perhaps. You would 
 call on my wives; eh, beauty? " 
 
 " If they were worth calling on, I might, per- 
 haps, do it," Mihirmah answered — "when you 
 were not there." 
 
 His face crimsoned, but even Murad's first- 
 
178 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 born did not dare go further. MihirmaE strolled 
 leisurely from the room. 
 
 Selim finished his lunch and yawned with sleep. 
 
 " I'll be going," he said. " In a couple of days 
 perhaps I shall try my luck around Krividol 
 Gulch." 
 
 " Must you go there?" his mother asked anx- 
 iously. " It is cold up among the mountains and 
 these peasants are so — troublesome." She held 
 him back. 
 
 " It will be good hunting. There will be flocks 
 of little birds that will need a keeper when the 
 nests are torn up." 
 
 He laughed at his joke. His mother assumed 
 a puzzled look; he laughed again at her pre- 
 tended innocence, chucked her under the chin, 
 and left. 
 
 In the dim hallway, old Aisha slipped out of 
 her corner and bowed herself to the floor before 
 him. 
 
 " My mistress, the gracious Mihirmah Ha- 
 noum, sends greetings to Most High Selim Bey 
 and will he lend his honorable presence for a few 
 minutes in her humblest of sitting-rooms ? " 
 
 " Show me the way," he cried in eager surprise. 
 Aisha ran ahead. Selim followed quietly and 
 quickly. 
 
 Languidly reclining on a feather-cushioned di- 
 van, Mihirmah watched the door, alluring, expec- 
 tant. The shimmering transparency of her face- 
 veil revealed and accentuated what it was in- 
 
DELILAH 179 
 
 tended to conceal. A face unveiled was never 
 half so enticing. 
 
 Selim entered hastily, closing the door behind 
 him, and bowed low, hesitating to advance. 
 Mihirmah's eyes, ignoring his, focused musingly 
 on the eunuch squatting by the door on the inside, 
 whom Selim had not noticed. He turned on him 
 squarely and pointed to the corridor. The man 
 scrambled to his feet, but did not go. 
 
 " Murad Pasha's orders," the eunuch pro- 
 tested. 
 
 Selim laid his hand suggestively on his sword. 
 
 " Murad Pasha will not be here for several 
 hours," he said between closed teeth. " I am 
 master now." 
 
 The eunuch almost fell through the door. 
 Selim closed it and quickly approached his fath- 
 er's third wife. She motioned him to a chair 
 near by. Selim Bey trembled; never had he been 
 so near this woman. She leaned forward slightly 
 and looked at him through lids half closed in 
 reverie. 
 
 " The hash-komitaji made a fool of the 
 Pasha?" 
 
 " So they say." He was obviously surprised 
 at her question. 
 
 " But he does know where the money is? " she 
 continued, 
 
 "Doubtless, But what do you want?" 
 
 Instead of answering she leaned back on S 
 cushion of turquoise-blue, against which the 
 
i8o PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 brown waves of her hair fell In maddening dis- 
 array. The sunlight from a latticed window 
 played about the sheer gauze veil. The least 
 suggestion of a blush tinged the creamy white- 
 ness of her face; her lips burned red as fire. 
 She spoke slowly, never looking at her visitor. 
 
 " If you could wheedle the secret out of him, 
 it would be worth while," she mused. 
 
 "H'ml" Selira grunted. 
 
 " But the monk is a proud hero. He will scorn 
 your trial even as he scorned your father's," she 
 continued. 
 
 He moved about uneasily. Her whole body 
 spoke a distinct and different message to his con- 
 ceited sensuality. He regarded her conversation 
 as a mere pretext on her part; and yet — could this 
 woman desire him whom she had appeared to 
 scorn? He tried to catch her eyes, but she looked 
 above and beyond him in the distance; only her 
 lips burned the deeper red. 
 
 " If I had that monk for a few minutes or 
 longer, I should know his secret." 
 
 " Perhaps you would," Selim agreed. " But I 
 don't see how you could ever have him." 
 
 She laughed tauntingly. 
 
 " Sclim Bey is resourceless in his father's pal- 
 ace?" 
 
 A smile of challenging scorn curled her lips. 
 For Mihirmah knew her man. 
 
 "Resourceless? Bah! I could carry you off, 
 every one of you, if I chose." 
 
DELILAH i8i 
 
 " But you are reluctant to have a woman assist 
 you to that treasure of two hundred thousand 
 piasters?" she mocked. 
 
 Selim snatched for her hand, but she eluded 
 him. 
 
 "Here," he cried bruskly, "why do you want 
 to doit?" 
 
 "To break this utterly unendurable monot- 
 ony," she answered. " My blood tingles, adven- 
 ture-mad; I am dying here of ennui." 
 
 She yawned in weary tedium and stretched her 
 arms above her head. The loose sleeves fell 
 back over her shoulders; her lips pouted disap- 
 pointedly, tantalizingly; a frown clouded her 
 brow; her eyes fixed upon a point just above his 
 head, but Selim could not bring them down, try 
 whatever artifice he would. 
 
 "Look atmel" 
 
 He spoke passionately, but she made no re- 
 sponse, waiting. 
 
 " Well, I'll arrange it and let you know this 
 afternoon," he concluded, and bent quickly over 
 her, " To relieve this day's ennui " he be- 
 gan; but she slipped past him and clapped her 
 hands. Aisha entered. 
 
 " Selim Bey would leave my apartment, but he 
 is not sure of his way out," Mihirmah said 
 calmly. 
 
 The old woman salaamed profoundly. 
 
 " I shall guide the honorable Bey," she an- 
 swered. 
 
1 821 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 Selim hesitated; tHen he followed the old slave. 
 
 Mihirmah watched quietly until the door 
 closed. When the footsteps had quite died away, 
 she walked up and down the room, clasping her 
 hands in exultation. 
 
 " Before to-morrow night I shall see him! " 
 
 She locked the door, pushed her veil away from 
 her face, and gazed at herself in the long mirror, 
 her fingers gripping the sides of the frame. 
 
 " I'll have him at my knees," she whispered. 
 " He can not resist me. He — can not! " 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THE FRAGRANCE OF HYACINTHS 
 
 THE sun peeped gingerly through the cob- 
 webby, Iron-barred hole into a small rect- 
 angular cell with a bed of clammy, packed 
 mud and only a small colony of cell-mates crawl- 
 ing over the walls — a cell clean and right com- 
 fortable as cells go in the land of the Turk. 
 
 The prisoner lay immobile, worn out, apathetic 
 — or perhaps absorbed in deep meditation. Boyan 
 had read his Turkish captors aright. His first 
 exhibition of the lofty manner, in front of the 
 cave, had been half accidental; its complete suc- 
 cess with Tossun Effendi had encouraged the ere- 
 mite to play a consistent part to the end. 
 
 He had nothing to confess, but the assumption 
 of haughty refusal impressed the sons of Islam, 
 ever used to expect submission from their victims. 
 Where stolid, stupid obstinacy, moreover, was 
 punished with barbarous torture, his lordly inflex- 
 ibility had compelled an Increasing self-respect. 
 The Turks treated him as a petty sergeant treats 
 a general whom the fortunes of war have made 
 
 183 
 
1 84 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 his captive. He was actually imprisoned in the 
 best cell available in Murad Pasha's jail. 
 
 One other idea lent him strength and steeled 
 his courage; as long as he was the "master 
 rebel " Adalena was relatively safe. She was 
 probably out of the Goreno region by now, Boyan 
 meditated, crossing some snow-bound pass, afoot 
 or ahorse across some valley, perhaps stopping 
 overnight at upland villages, preaching revolt. 
 Perchance some one else rode beside her. He 
 brushed aside a taunting memory; he could have 
 been that some one. 
 
 Did she still scorn? Would she contemn the 
 'hash-komitaji of the Goreno jail as she had the 
 eremite of the cave of dreams? Something 
 seemed to have severed all the threads that con- 
 nected him with the hermit of the Pirin cave. His 
 knees would bend no longer and, try as he might, 
 the words of prayer and litany had forsaken his 
 memory. 
 
 Live things crept about his ankles and scuttled 
 from under his palms. He felt around for the 
 possible bread-crust or crock of water left behind 
 by some Moslem prisoner, for he knew Turkish 
 prison methods too well to expect any himself 
 before he had confessed. 
 
 He searched the floor carefully, and though he 
 found no water, his hands finally fell on a chunk 
 of hard bread. He felt it over, shook ofF a wrig- 
 gling forager, and scraping the surface a little 
 with his finger-nails, carried his find back to the 
 
FRAGRANCE OF HYACINTHS 185 
 
 clay corner which his body had dried If not 
 warmed. He was famished, and his sorry meal 
 only whetted his hunger. 
 
 Chills ran through him ; the utter misery of the 
 cell was revolting, and a double sense of abhor- 
 rence mixed with terror came over him as he 
 thought of Adalena. Perhaps some day she would 
 be in such a cell. The idea led to others that 
 made him shudder as he thought of Turkish jails 
 and jailers. 
 
 The door swung open; the dirty glare of a lan- 
 tern flashed squarely in his eyes, and the long, 
 hound-like face of the jailer frowned above it. 
 
 " Come," the Turk said gruffly. 
 
 Boyan followed him through the maze of pass- 
 ages to the prison-gate; the fresh air gushed in 
 as the iron doors opened, and brilliant sunshine 
 burst all about him. Two soldiers stepped up, 
 chained his hands behind him and led him off. 
 From the rough stone of the prison passages they 
 came into finer corridors, then on to polished 
 wood and carpeted floors. The soldiers paused 
 before an open door and took off his chains. 
 
 " Go In," they ordered, and locked the door. 
 
 Boyan stood In the center of the room and 
 looked about, puzzled. It was evidently a sitting- 
 room. Heavy, soft-colored tapestries hung on 
 the walls ; a wide, yielding divan with puffy cush- 
 ions stretched beneath the latticed window, and 
 the foot lingered on silken rugs of luxurious thick- 
 ness. Through the voluptuous fragrance of hya- 
 
1 86, PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 cinths, which hung heavily in the air, a suggestion 
 of womankind pervaded the room. 
 
 In an alcove, shut off by portieres drawn aside, 
 a steaming dinner was set for two. The whole 
 thing was so unreal, so much like a page torn 
 from the Thousand and One Nights! Boyan 
 walked to the table and touched the browned 
 fowl with his finger-tips. 
 
 " This is real, anyhow," he laughed aloud, and 
 the next minute the ascetic of the Pirin cave was 
 lost to all that extended beyond the reach of 
 knife and fork. 
 
 A man physically ready for any emergency 
 stepped from the table and turned to test the 
 reality of the couch that invited to slumber. For 
 when one has passed with open eyes from Orien- 
 tal squalor to Oriental luxury, the gate of dreams 
 yawns wide open. 
 
 A strange cloud of hyacinths was all about 
 him. A presence elusive, seductive; a soft, silken 
 rustling seemed to lull him and rouse him all at 
 once. The swish of a veil caressed his cheek. 
 He shook himself half awake. 
 
 A woman sat beside him, wrapped in a mist of 
 wavy blue. As he opened his eyes she stretched 
 her arms over her head and rested her palms at 
 her neck. Boyan closed his eyes, then looked up 
 once more. She was still there. A smile of idle 
 contentment, and a desirous smile, played about 
 her lips, all ready to speak. The eyes sparkled, 
 burned behind long shading lashes. 
 
FRAGRANCE OF HYACINTHS 187 
 
 "You have seen me before?" she asked him. 
 
 Boyan heard himself answering: 
 
 " Once, at a window over a balcony." 
 
 " How strong you are, and handsome, and 
 noble ! " she whispered low and bent over him. 
 
 A memory, the most important of all, hovered 
 about the fringe of his consciousness, but his eyes 
 were still heavy and the blue cloud of hyacinths 
 enveloped him, ravished his senses, banished his 
 reason. 
 
 " How can you die so young? " 
 
 "Die!" Boyan repeated. 
 
 " You are lost beyond recovery — and I am so 
 near." 
 
 She touched his eyelids softly with her finger- 
 tips, 
 
 "Don't you think I am beautiful?" 
 
 " Beautiful," Boyan murmured. 
 
 His head sank back on the pillow; his eyelids 
 felt deliciously heavy beneath her caresses. She 
 leaned nearer, closer; he could feel the warmth 
 of her body coursing about him, her breath 
 against his cheek, the soft folds of her sleeve 
 about his neck. A wave of fire swelled, rose, 
 engulfed him. Her hands clasped his and pressed 
 them closely to her lips. 
 
 Was it the touch of her lips that roused him? 
 Eyes that knew no languor — dark, compelling 
 eyes — looked at him. Cool, strong hands pressed 
 his own. Instead of whispered caresses he 
 heard 
 
1 88 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 " Ours is a long road to-morrow — the road of 
 freedom." 
 
 With all his strength he pushed her savagely 
 from him and leaped to his feet. 
 
 "Temptress of Satan 1" he hissed. "So this 
 is your Turkish trick to wheedle out my secret. 
 And you call yourself a woman! " 
 
 She struggled upright and stood beside him. 
 Baffled where she had been sure of victory, she 
 now crimsoned with rage. 
 
 " You are an upland brute." She gritted her 
 teeth. "Why — I loved you. Do you know it? 
 I love you this minute I " 
 
 "Love!" 
 
 He laughed in scorn. 
 
 "What do you know about love? You are — 
 a pretty animal. There is no soul in you." 
 
 " You lie I " she cried. " You lie like a Mos- 
 lem. They all say we have no souls. They make 
 us slaves of their passions, but we conquer them. 
 You cast me off, but I shall conquer you." 
 
 She clasped him by the shoulders, her body 
 a-tremble with fury. He struggled desperately 
 to escape; her arms were blue with the pressure 
 of his fingers. 
 
 "What are you?" he cried in distraction. 
 "What would you have? Do you know what 
 it means to be a woman? " 
 
 " Tell me," she answered. " I would sell my 
 very soul for one minute of freedom and power." 
 
 " Let go your hold, then. You are a serpent, 
 fascinating. I can not think when you hold me." 
 
FRAGRANCE OF HYACINTHS 189 
 
 She dropped her arms, breathing heavily. 
 Boyan drew back and studied her carefully a long 
 time. At length he spoke to her quietly. 
 
 " There is a woman in our mountains," he said. 
 " She is younger than you, stronger, finer, more 
 beautiful, and she has given up everything for the 
 freedom of the people. Love, happiness, luxury — 
 all this is nothing to her. She has forgotten her 
 youth and beauty for the sake of old, wretched 
 Macedonia. She has more manhood in her than 
 ten men, and therefore she is the more womanly. 
 She does not pray, but her every thought contains 
 more religion than a whole monastery of mur- 
 muring monks. Men, women, and children wait 
 for her, bless, worship her. You must give, not 
 sell, yourself if you desire freedom." 
 
 " You mean " Mihirmah said slowly, won- 
 
 deringly. "I must forget I want it?" 
 
 *' Forget it and earn it," Boyan answered. 
 
 •' But how " 
 
 A sudden idea made every atom of her body 
 palpitate. She caught his arm excitedly. He 
 jerked back. 
 
 " Bash-komitaji," she whispered, " I know how 
 I shall win freedom. I shall free you and escape 
 myself." 
 
 He looked at her intently. 
 
 " You can not." 
 
 " I can," she answered in quiet pride. " Listen. 
 I was to entice you, conquer you, then wrest your 
 secret for Selim Bey. I wanted to win you; he 
 consented for your secret." 
 
I90 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 She lowered her voice, speaking faster. 
 
 " He may be near, listening, watching. Pre- 
 tend you yield to me. Lead me to the divan; 
 talk to me." 
 
 He was distrustful, bewildered. " What do 
 you mean? " 
 
 " Put your arm about me," she ordered, " and 
 trust me. It is all you can do. I — I am different 
 now." 
 
 As he drew her to him, she raised her voice 
 somewhat, caressing his face with her hand. 
 
 " If you do love me as you claim," she said, 
 " then tell me of your people, of your plans for 
 freedom, and how you will get money for the 
 revolt." 
 
 He shoved her away. 
 
 " I have nothing to tell you," he muttered. " I 
 will die rather than be so false." 
 
 She understood him only as playing his role, 
 drew away from him, and crossed the room, 
 apparently chagrined. 
 
 " Then you will never see me again ! " 
 
 She looked back and half held out her arms, 
 expecting him to rush to her. Boyan looked at 
 her one moment, then buried his face in the divan. 
 
 When she threw back the curtain that con- 
 cealed the entrance, Selim Bey stepped into the 
 opening and looked keenly at the man on the 
 cushions, then at the woman. 
 
 "Well?" he asked. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 AN OPEN DOOK 
 
 THE night had been doubly raw, the clay- 
 floor clammier than ever, and a more dis- 
 mal gloom enveloped the prison cell. The 
 events of the past day haunted Boyan like visions 
 from ghostland: freedom had knocked at his 
 door, and he had scorned to receive her. 
 
 Keys jangled uncertainly at the lock. Boyan 
 listened intently. Some one was trying one key 
 after the other and becoming more impatient with 
 every trial. At lastj with a vicious jab, one of 
 them slipped into the lock and turned; the door 
 creaked as the one outside pushed on it, and 
 yielded slowly. A dim ray of light from a dark 
 lantern flickered over the wall; Boyan could dis- 
 tinguish a black figure behind It. A candle-eye 
 sought him uncertainly. At last he heard, in a 
 somewhat shaky voice 
 
 " Bash-komitaji, aren't you here?" 
 
 He gasped in amazement. 
 
 "You! Is it you? How did you ever get to 
 
 this hole?" 
 
 191 
 
192 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 " Selim Bey allowed me one more trial. I per- 
 suaded him to let me come to you here. Name- 
 less One " — she came to him and caught his arm 
 — " let us escape from this awful place." 
 He drew aside, astonished. 
 
 "Who are you? And how can we escape?" 
 
 She clasped his arm again. 
 
 " Mihirmah is my name. I am the Sultan's, a 
 gift to Murad Pasha, and my life is weary in this 
 palace. Promise you will take me with you, and 
 I will help you escape." 
 
 "But how? This is madness. If we could get 
 away, you could not bear the journey. We 
 should only be recaptured." 
 
 Boyan spoke in gasps. Even as he discour- 
 aged her, his heart beat high with the madness of 
 new-born hope. 
 
 She was sanguine. 
 
 " Oh, yes, we can get away. But promise ; 
 will you take me with you?" 
 
 Boyan hesitated — and yet it was his only 
 chance. 
 
 " Well? " she asked anxiously. 
 
 " I shall do my best to protect you," he an- 
 swered. 
 
 Stifling a joyous cry, she hung the lantern on 
 the door-knob so that the light would fall on 
 them both. She threw off her veil and a long, 
 black mantle. 
 
 " Leave your cassock here and put on these," 
 she ordered. " I am dressed in Aisha's clothes. 
 
AN OPEN DOOR 193 
 
 WitH this charcoal on my face — see — we shall 
 deceive them all." 
 
 She held the lantern so that he might see. In 
 the dusk her disguise seemed perfect, but Boyan 
 wondered how it would look in the daylight. She 
 arranged the mantle about him and draped the 
 veil closely over his face. 
 
 " Be very careful and keep close to me. Don't 
 let your shoes show. In the harem they think I 
 am off to spend the day. Selim Bey expects me 
 to visit you this afternoon. If we can get in my 
 carriage, which Is waiting at the court, we'll have 
 four or five hours' start. Now, are you ready? " 
 Boyan took a step and lunged forward. 
 " Don't walk as if you had a cassock on," she 
 cried. " This cloak must be long, so your shoes 
 won't show. Move this way." 
 
 She paraded before him in a gliding, sweeping 
 step. 
 
 " Now try. Don't kick! Slip your feet along, 
 but don't shuffle." 
 
 She smiled up at him, her hand on the door. 
 " One word before we go, my Master Rebel. 
 I am saving you because I love you. I am going 
 with you because I love you, but not as I loved 
 you yesterday." 
 
 She stopped, waiting, hoping he would answer. 
 Her heart beat wildly; her fingers trembled on the 
 door-knob. She touched his hand through the 
 long folds of his sleeve. 
 
 " Do not answer," she said. " I know you do 
 
194 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 not love me. But tell me this. Do you trust me?, 
 Say you believe in me." 
 
 Slowly his hands dosed over her own. 
 " I must believe in you, Mihirmah." 
 She pulled the door open. They stood to- 
 gether in the corridor. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 THROUGH THE DOOH 
 
 THE dim gleam of tHe night-lantern guided 
 them uncertainly down the dark corridor. 
 Mihirmah went first. One turn after an- 
 other led off into mysterious, mazy passages. At 
 one corner they heard groans and cries — ^low, as 
 if coming from a great distance. 
 
 " I wonder who it is ? " 
 
 Boyan paused. The woman shrugged her 
 shoulders and hurried on. 
 
 The passage ended at a heavy Iron door. To- 
 gether they fitted a key and stepped out into a 
 hall, bright with the morning sunlight. At the 
 right of the entrance the door of the jailer's room 
 stood ajar, and inside at the table the old Moslem 
 himself nodded over a half emptied cup. of coffee. 
 
 Mihirmah stole to the table and laid down the 
 keys. Boyan waited motionless in a shadowed 
 corner. No one guarded the hall, but the court 
 outside was full of noisy soldiery, 
 
 " Come this way," the woman whispered. " We 
 (don't want to meet any more of them than neces- 
 sary." 
 
 195 
 
196 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 She turned to the side into a narrow passage 
 and out under large archways that connected the 
 inner with the outer court. 
 
 " We must cross these arches to the hall be- 
 yond," she said. *' That leads to the women's 
 outer court and we shall find the carriage in front 
 of it. Our real danger is there." 
 
 Glancing about hastily, they started under the 
 arches. Mihirmah grabbed Boyan's arm convul- 
 sively as a loud cry just around the corner star- 
 tled them. 
 
 " You donkey-eared duck-foot ! " a coarse voice 
 roared. "You impudent calf-head! " 
 
 Two soldiers in hot pursuit of a third dashed 
 into the entry. All three saw the tall, veiled figure 
 hurrying across the passage and came to a quick 
 stop. 
 
 " Hello there, pretty one," the first of them 
 called. "What's the hurry?" 
 
 " Don't mind them, gracious Hanoum" Mihir- 
 mah imitated Aisha's cracked tones. " They dare 
 not touch the flower of Murad Pasha's garden." 
 
 " Hist I " whispered the other two soldiers. 
 " This is no pasture for us to graze in." 
 
 Mihirmah pushed the door open and shoved 
 Boyan inside. 
 
 " Don't stiffen like that," she scolded. " You 
 can't fight here. Be limp. And don't pay atten- 
 tion to any one." 
 
 Here, too, the hall was empty, but there were 
 voices in the rooms near by where slaves ran 
 
THROUGH THE DOOR 197 
 
 about, their sandaled feet patting the bare floors. 
 Boyan noted only that the floors were polished 
 and the walls highly decorated, for he dared not 
 turn his head. Suddenly Mihirmah shoved him 
 into a dark doorway. 
 
 Three slaves bearing large platters of fruit on 
 their heads came pattering down the hall, singing 
 a gay snatch of song as they ran along. The two 
 waited until a door closed on the fruit-bearers. 
 Then they sped on. A large portal opened into 
 a court full of flower-beds, with here and there a 
 fountain, straw-wrapped for the winter. Mihir- 
 mah led Boyan behind a pillar. 
 
 " Wait," she whispered, and ran away. 
 
 She was gone only an instant, but it seemed 
 ages to him. When she returned, she was carry- 
 ing a heavy shopping bag. 
 
 They passed the portal and crossed the deserted 
 court. Above them was the window where Mihir- 
 mah had stood when she saw Boyan for the first 
 time. Her heart pounded as she wondered if any 
 curious eyes were looking through the lattice now. 
 
 Two eunuchs waited at the gate. They opened 
 mechanically, noticing only the tall, veiled figure, 
 and prepared to follow, but Mihirmah motioned 
 them back and swung the gates together herself. 
 They stared in stupid wonder, but she did not 
 pause. 
 
 " Praise be to Allah 1 " she breathed as she saw 
 the carriage drawn before the gate. 
 
 The horses stamped restlessly, eager to be oflf; 
 
198 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 the coachman, a withered old eunuch, blew his 
 hands and paced up and down to keep his feet 
 warm. He hurried to assist his mistress, but 
 Boyan had already stumbled in. Mihirmah 
 sprang after and snapped the latch. 
 
 " Drive to the Buk Beechwoods, and be quick 
 about it," she ordered in black Aisha's own fash- 
 ion. 
 
 The old man asked no questions. He whipped 
 up the horses and the carriage sped away. 
 
 Above, in the common sitting-room, Zayleh 
 saw it go. 
 
 " Well, we're free of the Thunder Hanoum 
 for a few hours," she muttered spitefully. 
 
 Old Aisha crouched in Mihirmah's private 
 sitting-room, waiting anxiously for her darling's 
 return. 
 
 " I ought not to have left her at the entrance," 
 she mumbled again and again. 
 
 She waited one hour, two. She could stand it 
 no longer. 
 
 " I am going to Selim Bey," she groaned de- 
 fiantly. " He must find her and give her back to 
 me. 
 
CHAPTER XXy 
 
 THE ROAD OF FREEDOM 
 
 THE carriage jolted briskly over the cobble- 
 stones. The noise of the wheels made 
 talking impossible. Mihirmah tried to 
 make Boyan hear, but he cautioned her to silence. 
 Pulling the bag beside her, she produced a pack- 
 age of cakes and a small bottle of coffee from its 
 depths. Boyan accepted them and ate ravenously. 
 
 As his appetite decreased, his hopes rose high. 
 Suddenly he stopped, ashamed of his greed. He 
 held the remains of the cakes, but the coffee had 
 all disappeared, and he could only look ruefully 
 at the empty bottle. 
 
 " You have had nothing," he said. 
 
 He had thrown the veil from his face while he 
 ate, and though she could not hear him, she 
 guessed the words his lips formed. She shook her 
 head, laughing, and went on winding a veil about 
 her head in Aisha's most approved style, criticis- 
 ing it closely in the glass door of the carriage. 
 
 " I am not hungry and there are more." She 
 patted the bag suggestively. 
 
 As the carriage turned into the lane skirting 
 199 
 
200 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 the woods, the horses slowed to a walk. Mihir- 
 mah pulled a couple of shawls from under the 
 cushions and put one over her shoulders. She 
 made a tight bundle of the other and gave it to 
 Boyan. 
 
 " Keep it under your cloak," she said. " It is 
 light, but very warm, and we shall need it later." 
 
 He took it and held her hand closely in his 
 own. 
 
 " You are a wonderful woman," he murmured. 
 
 She flushed warmly. It was his first hint of 
 praise and she accepted it with childish joy. She 
 did not remove her hand and he released it of 
 his own accord. 
 
 The grounds were wild and thick with under- 
 brush, but the leaves had fallen and left the place 
 barren and desolate. Mihirmah rapped on the 
 front window of the carriage. The old eunuch 
 stopped the horses and climbed from his seat. 
 He stuck his head inquiringly at the door. 
 
 " The honorable Hanoum will walk," Mihir- 
 mah ordered. " After that she will go to the 
 shops and then to Zulaika Hanoum's for dinner. 
 You shall call for her there at four o'clock this 
 afternoon." 
 
 She turned to follow Boyan, who was saunter- 
 ing slowly ahead. 
 
 " Say, Aisha," the old man asked cautiously, 
 " what is in your throat? Your voice is so hoarse 
 this morning." 
 
 " Go 'long," the woman commanded crossly, 
 
THE ROAD OF FREEDOM 201 
 
 " it Is the frogs. They always hop into my throat 
 in these wretched Macedonian winters." And 
 she hurried after her mistress. 
 
 The old eunuch shook his head. This was 
 strange conduct and he could not understand it, 
 but his mistress Mihirmah often did queer things. 
 He climbed on the box and drove rapidly away, 
 glancing back now and then at the receding fig- 
 ures. 
 
 When the carriage was out of sight, Mihirmah 
 threw out her arms and drew a long, deep breath. 
 
 "Bash- komitaji" she cried, "are we freel" 
 
 In his suppressed joy he was almost stern. 
 " We are a long way from freedom," he said, 
 " But we have a fighting chance. These clothes 
 will be in our way." 
 
 He examined the place about them. They 
 stood in a secluded bend where the woods skirted 
 the winding Ladna River. With a sigh of relief 
 Boyan threw aside the veil and mantle and looked 
 at her. 
 
 " See," Mihirmah said, " I am ready for the 
 mountains, too." 
 
 She threw off the loose cloak of the slave and 
 waited for his comment. 
 
 Boyan cried out in astonishment, for he saw a 
 peasant girl before him in loose blouse, short, 
 thick skirt, woolen stockings, and heavy shoes. 
 She laughed at his surprise. 
 
 " I got them in the market yesterday," she 
 answered him. *' I had to hurry." 
 
202 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 i< 
 
 How did you think of it all? " he gasped. 
 I have read much — novels, romance." 
 
 Her eyes danced with delight at his evident 
 admiration. 
 
 " I have dreamed wild dreams. The harem 
 games were so stupid; I wanted one worth the 
 playing, and because I was dying of ennui, I sought 
 amusement in books. I can speak your language, 
 too; I learned it from a slave-girl Murad Pasha 
 brought us." 
 
 " Bozhe mot (My God) !" he marveled. 
 "And such a woman can come out of Turkey 1" 
 
 " But hurry now," she begged. 
 
 " Mihirmah I " He spoke sternly. " I ac- 
 cepted your help, not because I wanted life and 
 freedom for myself, but that I might learn how 
 to die for others. You also crave freedom. Be- 
 cause the riotous blood pulses in your veins, you 
 think you love me." 
 
 " I know I love you, Bash-komitaji! " 
 
 " Well, I know I do not love you. Listen, this 
 is brutal ; but I am not a courtier and I respect you 
 enough to tell you the truth. You are just at the 
 gate, you can turn back." 
 
 " Oh, let me be your slave. Bash- komitaji," she 
 burst out, her passion for him undampened by the 
 humiliation of his words. The less attainable he 
 proved, the more ardently she desired him. 
 
 " Do you know where my path leads which you 
 wish to follow? " 
 
 •' It leads to happiness, to joy " 
 
THE ROAD OF FREEDOM 203 
 
 " It leads to the gallows, or worse. Can free- 
 dom mean that to you? See, even yet you can 
 go back." 
 
 " I have cast my lot with you," she muttered. 
 
 " And if the road proves too hard for you, and 
 I push ahead nevertheless, and leave you be- 
 hind?" 
 
 "The jail-guards will be after us before long. 
 Come, do let us hurry." She stamped with nerv- 
 ous impatience. 
 
 Boyan shrugged his shoulders, rolled her cloak 
 and his own trappings into a tight bundle, hunted 
 along the bank for a stone, and tied it to one end 
 of the long veil. Creeping to the water's edge, he 
 flung the bundle far out into the river. It floated 
 but an instant; they watched the circles widen and 
 lose themselves in the current. 
 
 " There are no tracks now," he said. He 
 picked up the bag, wrapped the shawl about it, 
 and slung it over his shoulder. They started at 
 a rapid pace to an old bridge some distance off. 
 Across the bridge were the hills, forest-covered. 
 
 The wind blew cuttingly, but neither of them 
 heeded the cold. Mihirmah felt all the energy 
 of a mountain-peasant surging through her. She 
 rubbed the charcoal from her face as they hur- 
 ried on; her cheeks glowed through the soot. 
 Even Murad Pasha would scarcely have known 
 his beautiful, languid, troublesome gift-wife. 
 And for the first time Mihirmah forgot herself 
 and her own loveliness. 
 
204 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 They gained the bridge and crossed it, to all 
 appearances a young peasant couple on their way 
 back from town. The path led sharply over the 
 hill. They climbed rapidly, Mihirmah panting 
 for breath. Just beyond the crest the way di- 
 vided; one led toward the north, the other west. 
 
 " This way," Boyan said, turning west. 
 
 "But why not north?" Mihirmah argued. 
 " Bulgaria lies north, and freedom is there." 
 
 " Because I say west now." 
 
 He had used that tone once before, when he 
 had cast her aside in the palace. She followed 
 without a word, but her heart felt sick with mis- 
 giving. She noticed suddenly how cold the wind 
 was as it swept down the mountains. 
 
 An inability to explain to her the objective of 
 their journey oppressed Boyan, but he could not 
 bring himself to utter Adalena's name to this 
 woman, and his admiration for her pluck only in- 
 creased that inability. All his joy in freedom 
 was swallowed up in his passion to reach Uskub 
 without delay, find Adalena, and work for Mace- 
 donia. He set his teeth and hurried on. 
 
 Mihirmah watched him and followed. The 
 whole bearing of the man ahead of her was com- 
 pelling. She had dreamed of holding men cap- 
 tive, of molding them in the palm of her hand 
 like soft wax; to her voluptuous womanhood that 
 had been the vision of consummate bliss. 
 
 Now she thrilled to the heart with the love 
 
THE ROAD OF FREEDOM 205 
 
 of one who had trampled her pride in the dust 
 but had seen in her a human being. She tried to 
 fall into his own swinging stride and keep abreast, 
 but he remained slightly ahead, and inch by inch 
 she felt she was losing ground. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 " ONLY A PIASTER '' 
 
 " J^ASH-KOMITAJI, listen!" They had 
 yj pushed on steadily for several long 
 hours, with only a minute snatched now 
 and then for rest, and a noon meal eaten as they 
 walked. Mihirmah's muscles were stiff. The 
 pressure of hard, heavy shoes on feet which only 
 embroidered sandals had ever before housed was 
 unendurable. 
 
 Over and over again she was on the point of 
 crying out in her exhaustion to hide somewhere 
 and rest, but each time his set head and broad, 
 grim shoulders silenced her. And she shambled 
 on, across gullies and hollows, up winding goat- 
 paths, over rocky defiles where every stone bruised 
 her feet — always straight ahead and always 
 westward. 
 
 The early zest of the journey had vanished; 
 she followed with a determination as dogged as 
 his own. Her limbs worked automatically. She 
 felt no resentment at his utter disregard of her 
 weariness, but crept after him, afraid to stop lest 
 Ker feet lose the trick of keeping in his rhythm. 
 
 206 
 
"ONLY ■A PIASTER" 207 
 
 Slowly Mihlrmali grew aware of a low beat- 
 ing, coming in a measured cadence, as it seemed, 
 from somewhere back in her head. At first she 
 enjoyed it; it helped her to walk faster. 
 
 But her rhythmic beat grew louder, louder, 
 gaining momentum at every step until she de- 
 spaired of keeping pace with it. The faster she 
 walked the faster, more insistent came the throb 
 that seemed to shake her very brain. 
 
 Mihirmah's apathy suddenly vanished. She 
 turned her head and stood perfectly still. The 
 beating did not cease; it was not In her head. 
 Thump, thump; she heard it distinctly on the 
 Hard road — the unmistakable sound of galloping 
 hoofs. 
 
 Boyan marched steadily on, unaware of any- 
 thing but the mountains in front. She ran after 
 him, all her weariness gone. 
 
 " Bash-komitaji! They are after us ! " 
 
 He stopped, turned around, and bent his ear 
 close to the ground. The gallop came with in- 
 creasing distinctness on the clear mountain-air. 
 Boyan knew they were Moslem troopers; no 
 Macedonian peasant's horse could go at that rate. 
 His heart sickened. He looked eagerly ahead in 
 search of some thicket or bypath that would offer 
 concealment. 
 
 Their pursuers were evidently in the hollow 
 behind them, since the horses could scarcely keep 
 such a gait climbing. Until the Turks reached 
 the crest the fugitives were Invisible; after 
 
2o8 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 that the entire road would be in plain 
 view. 
 
 Mihirmah held his arm, watching the hilltop, 
 fascinated. Boyan felt her tremor as she clutched 
 his elbow. 
 
 " You must save us both," she kept repeating. 
 " You must save us now." 
 
 His face was grim. " We must hide, but God 
 alone knows where." 
 
 The woods on each side were all beech and 
 maple and oak. Their gray, gaunt limbs swayed 
 mockingly, every protecting leaf scattered over 
 the ground. Not a cedar or hemlock relieved 
 the winter bareness. 
 
 " The whole mountainside is like a sieve," 
 Boyan groaned aloud. " They can see in every 
 hollow clear to the valley. But come, it is our 
 only ghost of a chance." 
 
 He took her hand and they stumbled into 
 the thick leaves and among the bushes. Mihir- 
 mah noticed that the galloping had ceased. 
 
 " I can't hear them," she whispered. " Maybe 
 they have turned." 
 
 " They are climbing the hill," Boyan muttered 
 between set teeth. " Mihirmah, do you know 
 how to die? '' 
 
 "Oh I" 
 
 " Then they ^" 
 
 But Mihirmah had lost her step; her foot 
 slipped, turned sharply, and she fell forward into 
 a little hollow almost filled with leaves. He 
 
"ONLY A PIASTER" 209 
 
 reached to lift her as she struggled in the leaves, 
 then quickly pushed her back. 
 
 " Lie still," he hissed, " and hold your shawl 
 over your face." 
 
 Then he began piling the leaves over her, heap- 
 ing, smoothing, working In a perfect frenzy. 
 
 " But you ? " she cried. " Oh, don't leave me 1 " 
 
 "Be still 1" 
 
 He threw an armful over her head. 
 
 "And don't move until I tell you." 
 
 She twisted slightly and lay quiet. Her 
 wrenched ankle throbbed. The load over her got 
 thicker. She held the shawl closely to keep out 
 the stifling dust. At length the rustling stopped 
 and something heavy and stiff fell lightly over 
 her. 
 
 " He must be piling logs on now," she half- 
 smiled In her terror. 
 
 An irresistible impulse drove her to discover If 
 she could move anyway. Boyan's voice answered 
 her first rustle, a low, hoarse, desperate voice. 
 
 " For God's sake or Mohammed's, woman, 
 lie still! They are at the top." 
 
 The words froze her into obedience. Her 
 muscles grew rigid. She held her breath, so In- 
 tently was she listening. Boyan's quick move, 
 ments had stopped. She could still hear him 
 move about, but slowly and haltingly, and now 
 and then twigs snapped or one thicker than the 
 rest broke with a slow crack. 
 
 The sharp gallop of horses drowned even this. 
 
210 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 Then all at once it too stopped, and a hoarse 
 voice called out: 
 
 " Say, Grandpa, have you seen anything of a 
 young couple around these parts?" 
 
 The leaves crackled rapidly. Was the bash- 
 komitaji running away or going toward them? 
 A voice, so thin and quavering that she had to 
 think twice to recognize it, whined out: 
 
 "Allah multiply your wives, Effendi! One 
 piaster, one little piaster for old Antim's din- 
 ner!" 
 
 A whip hummed. Mihirmah heard a weak 
 cry 
 
 "Effendi!" 
 
 " Sst, you old carrion, answer up this minute: 
 have a young man and woman passed here?" 
 
 "A man and woman?" the voice whimpered 
 in halting Turkish. " No man and woman come 
 to hunt old Antim. Nobody comes here." 
 
 " Has any one passed, I ask you? " The Turk 
 swore. " Has anybody gone by? " 
 
 " Gone by? Yes, yesterday YanI the shepherd, 
 going to Goreno, he said. And two old goats like 
 me — do you know them? — Stilian and Petkana of 
 Dobridol village, passed last Wednesday. 
 Wouldn't tell me where, the old goats, and " 
 
 " Nobody to-day? " The Turk cut him short. 
 
 "To-day is the day of Saint Nedelia; of Saint 
 Nedelia and Saint Petka ! " the cracked voice 
 crooned in Bulgarian. 
 
 " Can't you see? He is out of his wits," an- 
 
"ONLY A PIASTER" 211 
 
 other Turk yelled. " Come on, let's turn back to 
 the valley-villages." 
 
 " One little piaster! " the beggar-voice whined. 
 
 " Here's one," some one sang out. Again the 
 whirr of the whip and a cry of pain mingled with 
 hoarse laughter. 
 
 " Warm him up. Try your shooting-eye on 
 him as he runs 1 " 
 
 Instantly a rifle cracked; there was a shrill 
 scream of anguish and something fell to the 
 ground. Mihirmah, terrified, grit her teeth to 
 keep from crying out. 
 
 " Save your bullets, you fools," another voice 
 shouted gruffly. " No telling how many we'll need 
 before we are through." 
 
 The horsemen galloped away. 
 
 For an eternity Mihirmah lay still. The beat 
 of the hoofs grew fainter and fainter. Was the 
 bash-komitaji dead? Allah, why didn't he 
 move? She dared not stir, but every atom of 
 her being quivered in agony and she was almost 
 suffocated. 
 
 A twig snapped; leaves rustled above her. 
 With a sweep her load was pushed away and 
 Boyan kicked aside the branches he had piled 
 over her to hold the leaves. 
 
 " Mihirmah I " he cried. His voice shook with 
 joy. " We are saved." 
 
 She stared at him. His jacket was off, his 
 shirt torn until his body was bare to the wind. 
 His hair was gray with the dust from the leaves 
 
212 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 and his face and hands dark with grime plastered 
 over his skin. He had rolled up his pantaloons 
 and his feet and legs were bare and dirty. Across 
 his face and over his right shoulder two long 
 welts were swelling. The blood oozed out of the 
 cuts. She sat up, still staring, uncertain whether 
 to admire or pity. 
 
 "But the shot?" she asked anxiously. 
 
 " Your Turks are poor marksmen," he laughed, 
 pulling on his shoes and socks. " If he had aimed 
 at the tree instead of at me you might have had 
 to go on alone." 
 
 She shuddered at his jest. 
 
 " I have an idea," he went on. *' We shall 
 carry bundles of fagots on our backs, then if the 
 curs meet us, they'll think we are only wood- 
 choppers going home." 
 
 She struggled to rise, pulling herself up by a 
 little birch-tree. Every movement was agony. 
 Her muscles refused to work. 
 
 Boyan was stamping up and down, warming his 
 feet. When she tried to come to him, she crum- 
 pled in a heap on the ground. 
 
 "Carry wood?" she moaned. "Bash-Komi- 
 taji, I can not even walk. I can not 1 " 
 
 He bent over her, 
 
 " Just a little farther, Mihirmah," he begged. 
 " It is all down-hill now. We shall surely find a 
 house where you can rest." 
 
 He helped her up and they went slowly for- 
 ward. It was a snail's pace and every moment 
 
"ONLY A PIASTER" 213 
 
 was precious. In his nervousness Boyan increased 
 their speed, hoping to limber her muscles. 
 
 But the Turkish hanoum was no Bulgarian 
 mountain girl. Every step was torture; her 
 twisted ankle pressed against the shoe until she 
 thought It would burst. Her eyes grew filmy. 
 She lunged, face forward. He barely caught her. 
 
 " Go on," she moaned, leaning on him. " Go, 
 and leave me. I should have known better. You 
 call this freedom, but for me it is only death. I 
 can not go farther." 
 
 He lifted her in his arms and went slowly down 
 the mountainside, feeling his way carefully in the 
 darkness. 
 
CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 KISMET 
 
 THE wind rose. It grew colder every min- 
 ute, and not a star in heaven! Thick, 
 gray clouds, snow-filled, rolled across the 
 sky. The road ahead lost itself in a dense-black 
 valley. 
 
 "Are you very cold?" Boyan asked. 
 
 " I am freezing," she answered faintly. " I 
 didn't know there were such cold winds in all the 
 world. Can't we find a shelter somewhere?" 
 
 He strained his eyes, looking for some gleam in 
 the darkness. The road turned sharply to the 
 left, then bent again to the right, but, in the 
 middle of the horseshoe curve, Boyan thought he 
 saw an opening in the forest. The woods were 
 thick here— groves of spruce and hemlock so 
 black that the opening was like a gulf of gray 
 yawning before them. Boyan stood Mihirmah 
 on her feet and studied the lay of the land be- 
 yond the opening. She hobbled after, fearful of 
 being left alone even for a moment. The endless 
 stretch of woodland, the untamed sweep of the 
 wind through it, filled her soul with a dread intol- 
 erable. 
 
 214 
 
KISMET 215 
 
 " We are near a sHelter," Boyan said, coming 
 to her. "Across the next ravine are the sheep- 
 sheds of the Seven Well-springs. We shall be 
 welcome there." 
 
 He took her in his arms once more and started. 
 How very light she was ! 
 
 The road was scarcely more than a broad path, 
 but it was well cleared, and the autumn rains had 
 washed it smooth. It wound along the mountain- 
 side, down into the dark ravine, and up the oppo- 
 site slope. After a fifteen minutes' climb they 
 came out into a well-marked clearing. A group 
 of cabins huddled together in the center of it. 
 From a window in the largest a light gleamed, 
 flickering but warm. 
 
 A watch-dog began barking furiously from the 
 back of the clearing. Others joined in. A heavy 
 log door opened carefully: old Tosho's figure 
 stood out in the light. Yana peered curiously 
 over his shoulder, holding over her head a pine 
 torch that threw out uncertain rays across the 
 doorstep and the court in front. Behind them 
 the fireplace, filled with logs, shot its flames up 
 the chimney. 
 
 Boyan led Mihirmah forward. When the door 
 opened the dogs had stopped barkmg, but they 
 still growled threateningly. One of them came 
 into the light and stood there, bristling and de- 
 fensive. 
 
 " A good friend of yours, Uncle Tosho. Can 
 you take us in for the night? " 
 
2i6 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 A door opened near the fireplace. Ivan the 
 Huntsman came into the room and listened care- 
 fully. 
 
 " These are uncertain times," Tosho returned, 
 " but you seem to know me, friend. How many 
 are there of you? " 
 
 " Two, and one is a woman dying of cold and 
 hunger." 
 
 " Give me the torch, mother," Ivan said. " His 
 voice sounds familiar, and anyhow we turn away 
 no Bulgar on such a night as this." 
 
 He stepped past the old man and swung the 
 torch over his head. 
 
 " Come into the light. Be quiet there," he or- 
 dered the dogs, who growled more fiercely as the 
 two approached. 
 
 "Holy thunders — you?" Ivan exclaimed. 
 " Mother, Boyan the Hermit is here ! How in 
 Heaven's But come in!" 
 
 He took them into the cabin and bolted the 
 door. Boyan led Mihirmah to the fire and put 
 her on the wide chimney-seat. She shivered con- 
 tinually and huddled closely to the warmth. Old 
 Yana's curiosity gave way to pity. 
 
 " The poor little lamb," she said, " she is 
 frozen through. In a minute we'll have some- 
 thing hot for you." . 
 
 Mihirmah lifted her great, dark eyes to the 
 kindly face and smiled faintly. 
 
 Yana swung a half-emptied kettle of soup 
 nearer the fir^ and brought out slices of white 
 
KISMET 217 
 
 cheese and a loaf of bread. Boyan threw himself 
 on the seat opposite Mihirraah and rested in the 
 warmth. 
 
 The old mother roused the two, urging 
 the steaming soup on them and filUing their 
 glasses with fresh milk. They ate raven- 
 ously. As he gained strength, Boyan's plans 
 cleared. 
 
 " Ivan," he began, " I know what question 
 hangs on your lips. A month ago when I saw 
 you last, I could not have dreamed of meeting 
 you again — thus.-" 
 
 " So many things have happened since last 
 month that one can believe anything," Ivan re- 
 marked. " But what brings you here? " 
 
 He looked inquiringly at Mihirmah. 
 
 " A brave woman is your guest, Mother Yana. 
 Mihirmah Hanoum is escaped from Murad 
 Pasha's harem in quest of freedom. She saved 
 me out of prison, and a pack of Turkish dogs 
 are after us." 
 
 "Saved you out of prison? When were you 
 arrested? " Ivan cried out. " I have just returned 
 from the border. You come direct from Go- 
 reno?" 
 
 "Yes. I am the ' Bash-komitaji' whom Mu- 
 rad and his men have been trying so solemnly." 
 Boyan smiled. " Even Mihirmah Insists on call- 
 ing me so ! " 
 
 "Your Holiness a komiiap! Since when?" 
 Tosho asked incredulously. Mihirmah had 
 
2 1 81 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 closed her eyes and dropped off to sleep on the 
 chimney-seat. 
 
 " The real bash-komitaji came wounded to 
 my cave after the Krivldol Gulch affair," Boyan 
 began. 
 
 "Where is she now?" Ivan interrupted. 
 
 " Wait. She honored me by seeing a possible 
 leader in me, but I saw no fighting chance in 
 Macedonia and preferred to keep on mumbling 
 my prayers. Our leader went to Uskub. Hardly 
 had she gone out of sight when a troop of zap- 
 tiehs came up to the cave to arrest her." 
 
 "And you gave yourself instead; played her 
 part ! " Ivan concluded admiringly. 
 
 " My trial convinced me that only our Inde- 
 cision makes Turkey strong. United, inflexible, 
 defiant, we could hold our own against the op- 
 pressor. And my captivity taught me not to ask 
 God and the Virgin any questions which I myself 
 could answer. So here I am, Uskub-bound, to 
 work with her for Macedonia's freedom." 
 
 " But this wife of Murad's?" Yana asked. 
 
 " In my way? So she is, good Yana, but she 
 has led me out of prison and I feel honor-bound 
 to protect her as long as she can follow. She is 
 going to Bulgaria and then to Europe, I suppose, 
 where she may find the free life she craves, after 
 she has learned that she does not really love 
 me. 
 
 The sudden furious barking of the dogs and 
 the gallop of horses brought them all to their 
 
KISMET 219 
 
 feet. Rifle-shots quieted the barking for a second, 
 while loud voices yelled: 
 
 " Open up, cur of a shepherd I Open up this 
 minute or we shoot ! " 
 
 Ivan rushed to grab his rifle. 
 
 "There are a dozen of them, son. It's no 
 use," Tosho said, and turned to the door. 
 
 As the noise burst in the room, Mihirmah 
 leaped to her feet, frightened, and clutched 
 Boyan by the arm. Her face stood out in the 
 light. Selim Bey's voice rang out: 
 
 "There they are, both of them! Keep watch 
 around the house, zaptiehs, the Bash-komitaji is 
 here!" 
 
 He leaped from his horse and rushed into the 
 room with half a dozen of the Turks. 
 
 " Bind them all," he ordered, " and bind 
 this peasant girl securely," pointing to Mihir- 
 mah. 
 
 It had all happened so quickly that the Bulgars 
 stood dazed, but Mihirmah came forward. 
 
 " Selim Bey," she said, " you shall not bind us. 
 And you shall not touch these peasant folk, 
 either I " 
 
 "Who are you, to give yourself such airs?" 
 Selim shouted. 
 
 " You know who I am, even if your zaptiehs do 
 not. But I tell you this : I gained access to the 
 cell of the bash-komitaji because you wanted to 
 learn his secret for your own profit. If you bind 
 us, or if you touch these shepherd folk, Murad 
 
220 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 Pasha will learn some things that will cost you 
 dearly." 
 
 Selim Bey was taken aback. 
 
 " Well," he compromised, " so be it, but come 
 along quickly. Akiff Pasha of Uskub has sent 
 orders to have the bash-komitaji despatched to 
 him for further trial as soon as possible, and 
 your apartment is waiting for you. Murad Pasha 
 hasn't found out yet that either of you two are 
 gone, but he may any minute." 
 
 Tosho held back his rebellious Ivan. 
 
 " Wait, my son," he whispered. " Bide a bet- 
 ter chance. Here we can not oppose them. Re- 
 member your mother, remember Irina and the 
 other children." 
 
 Mihirmah shrugged her shoulders. " It is. 
 Kismet," she said, " But my ankle is hurt. I 
 can not manage a horse myself." 
 
 " Ride on my saddle," Selim offered eagerly. 
 
 " No." Mihirmah drew herself up proudly. 
 " No, hero of uncombed bazaar-beauties, I'll never 
 share a saddle with you. For once in my life I 
 shall ride with the man who gave me the only 
 taste of freedom I have ever had." 
 
 She turned to Boyan. Never before had the 
 broad-shouldered, massive mountaineer seemed so 
 little the monk and so much the born leader. His 
 clothes, torn and dusty though they were, had a 
 certain native, half-wild grace which gained by 
 contrast with Selim Bey's elaborate foppery. The 
 stronger, simpler man was prisoner, but his failure 
 and recapture had not cowed him. 
 
KISMET 221 
 
 The Pasha's son blustered importantly. Boyan 
 said not a word. Overpowered by numbers, un- 
 armed, he faced his captor with a cool, smiling 
 defiance which thrilled the Turkish woman. To 
 the unsatisfied daughter of Stamboul seraglios this 
 son of the craggy highland was a prince of ro- 
 mance. 
 
 " Bash-komitaji," she said — ^but he seemed not 
 to hear — " bash-kotnitaji, I go to my living grave 
 in the harem of a brute; and you — Allah knows 
 where! But tell Akiff Pasha — I have heard of 
 him in Stamboul — tell him that the wife whom 
 Murad Pasha got instead of the governorship of 
 Uskub loathes the very sight of Murad and of his 
 son, and loves you — you — you!" 
 
 She threw herself at Boyan's feet and clasped 
 his knees in a paroxysm of unrequited passion. 
 
 In the early morning hours, Ivan the Huntsman 
 set out cross-country for Uskub. 
 
 " Adalena must hear of this. She will doubt- 
 less stop at Demeter the Schoolmaster's, and 
 she alone will know how to save Boyan before he 
 reaches Akiff Pasha's jail." So he had reasoned, 
 and his old parents agreed with him. 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 THE MERCHANT FROM SALONICA 
 
 ON a typical Turkish road — a winding rope 
 of a road, a black ditch full of sticky, ropy 
 mud — skirting the lower western slopes of 
 the Malesh mountains a well-dressed and there- 
 fore foreign-looking young man rode on horse- 
 back, Uskub-bound. Two puffy saddle-bags 
 hugged the horse's belly, and also protected the 
 rider's neat trouser-legs from the spattering ooze 
 through which the animal navigated. 
 
 The road was almost deserted. The horseman 
 met and nodded cursory greetings to several peas- 
 ants returning from Shtip, the nearest town on his 
 way, but no one caught up with him. 
 
 It was somewhat late in the afternoon when, 
 crossing the pit of a mountain hollow on his de- 
 scent to the Shtip valley, the young merchant over- 
 took a moss-covered old native doing his profane 
 best to goad a team of antediluvian buffaloes into 
 locomoving. The well-dressed city man sup- 
 pressed a smile and greeted his road fellow 
 cheerily : 
 
 " Pomozi Bog (God help you) 1 " 
 
 222 
 
MERCHANT FROM SALONICA 223 
 
 It Is a form of salutation characteristic of a 
 race and country that has been In distinct and des- 
 perate need of divine assistance for some half a 
 thousand years. 
 
 The buffalo-driver gave the horseman a sud- 
 den, startled look. Then, evidently reassured 
 by the merchant's appearance, he bent forward 
 hospitably. 
 
 " Pomozi Bog! " he answered. " Yours is a 
 faster beast than mine," he commented, plying 
 the goad industriously to stir the buffaloes to life, 
 " but you are as lone a traveler as I. Whither 
 bound?" 
 
 The merchant brought his horse alongside the 
 cart. 
 
 "To Uskub, grandfather," he answered. 
 
 " You're a brave young chap, dressed as you 
 are, to be traveling so far alone." 
 
 The old man peered sharply into the rich mer- 
 chant's face: 
 
 " We grow old while we are yet young in 
 Macedonia," the other replied. 
 
 The peasant gave one of the buffaloes a vicious 
 prick and laughed bitterly. 
 
 " Macedonia has no youth. Children are gray- 
 beards before they are men. You are a Bulgar? 
 I know it by your tongue." 
 
 "A son of the Pirin uplands," the merchant 
 answered, "back from a visit. It was many 
 winters since I had seen the old hut." 
 
 "Are you a peasant born?" The old man 
 
224 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 was incredulous. " You look so prosperous — 
 moneyed — ^polished." 
 
 He surveyed the evolved village son admir- 
 ingly. 
 
 " You must be a Protestant," he concluded, 
 but crossed himself Orthodox-wise notwithstand- 
 ing. " Tie your horse to the wagon and ride a 
 ways." 
 
 "You must excuse me, grandfather, but I am 
 late as it is," the merchant replied. " I must 
 reach Shtip before sundown." 
 
 He lifted his cap, touched the spurs to his 
 horse, and vanished around the next bend. 
 
 " The young ones are restless these days," the 
 peasant mused. " There is no time to talk any 
 more." 
 
 He pricked the off buffalo, which seemed to be 
 slower in responding to the goad's suggestion, 
 and blew his nose loudly. 
 
 " But he was a handsome youngster," he add- 
 ed, " almost as pretty as a maid." 
 
 The rider reached the top of the last upland 
 slope. He rested the horse from the long climb; 
 then took the descent to Shtip at a quick trot 
 and alighted before an inn at the edge of the 
 town. 
 
 An officious porter, followed by an obsequious 
 host, hustled out of the gate. The merchant 
 nodded to a stableboy, who loafed expectantly 
 about the courtyard, and walked briskly into the 
 dingy office. The boy almost hurried in his zeal 
 
MERCHANT FROM SALONICA 225 
 
 to stable the fine gentleman's horse; the porter 
 lugged In the saddlebags. 
 
 " I want a good, clean, warm room, if you 
 have such," the merchant told the landlord. 
 
 " Yes, sir, yes." Doncho the innkeeper rubbed 
 his hands importantly. " Tasko, put my own 
 room in shape for the guest." 
 
 Such customers as the merchant were obvi- 
 ously not usual at Doncho's inn. 
 
 "You are traveling from afar, sir?" 
 
 " From Salonica." The curt answer discour- 
 aged further conversation. 
 
 " Landlord, send three fried eggs up to my 
 room. I don't care to eat with this rabble." 
 
 He jerked his gloved thumb scornfully toward 
 the eating-room, reeking with tobacco smoke and 
 noisy with the clatter of unbreakable wine 
 glasses. 
 
 " Indeed not." The host echoed his patron's 
 aristocracy. " All shall be made comfortable for 
 the gentleman." 
 
 " A heavy merchant, that," suggested a town 
 idler, straining his wine through his mustache, 
 while he watched the city man stride up the stairs 
 to his room. 
 
 Tasko had just started the fire in the little tin 
 stove, and was bobbing his way out, when the 
 landlord entered. 
 
 *' The gentleman will pardon my disturbing 
 him," he began, " but it is necessary for me to 
 record his passport." 
 
226 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 " To be sure. Stupid of me to forget." 
 
 The merchant went through his papers, se- 
 lected one, and handed it to the landlord. 
 
 " Send some supper at once," he said. 
 
 Early in the evening the light in the front cham- 
 ber was out and the young merchant, fully dressed, 
 slept soundly behind a locked door. Nothing dis- 
 turbed his slumbers; it was six o'clock when he 
 wakened. He pounded at his door and called 
 for breakfast. 
 
 " And tell the boy to feed and saddle my horse 
 at once," he ordered the porter. " I must be off 
 directly." 
 
 But instead of Tasko, Doncho himself re- 
 turned, profuse with apologies. 
 
 " I am sorry to say, Gospodine, that something 
 seems wrong. The town kaimakam, Midhat 
 Bey, wiir not accept your passport and has sent 
 a zaptieh to take you to him." 
 
 "Oh, bother!" the merchant snapped in irri- 
 tation. " How can things be right when half of 
 these town kaimakams don't attend to their busi- 
 ness! Where is the zaptieh f I'm in seven devils 
 of a hurry." 
 
 The landlord shook his head sympathetically 
 as the city man strode away with the orderly. 
 
 The Government konak at Shtip was old and 
 dingy, but its disorder was that of use rather than 
 neglect. In other days the low, square audience 
 room had been fitted up with some pretense at 
 luxury, and the former county magistrates served 
 
MERCHANT FROM SALONICA 227 
 
 coffee to their early morning guests on low 
 tables and smoked lazily as they swapped local 
 gossip. 
 
 Midhat Bey had changed things completely. 
 He was a short, swarthy Arab with keen, deep- 
 set eyes and a chin as square as a bulldog's. His 
 temper was also of the bulldog variety. He 
 dressed plainly, even carelessly, scorning luxury 
 of any kind. He had one absorbing passion, a 
 passion outlandish in Turkey — the fulfillment of 
 his duties. 
 
 To be sure, Midhat was ambitious, and it may 
 have been that while he attended to business with 
 one watchful eye, the other was fixed on the gov- 
 ernorship of Uskub, the goal of all Turkish 
 officialdom in northern Macedonia. Still, the 
 first eye kept the Shtip District In better order 
 than that which obtains in most of the Sultan's 
 mismanaged provinces. 
 
 When he came into power, one of his first acts 
 was to sweep away all the frippery of his prede- 
 cessors. The artistic coffee tables were replaced 
 by rough desks, littered with papers; the divans 
 by wooden benches, where MIdhat's callers 
 waited his leisure in uncomfortable, coffeeless 
 silence. And they never had long to wait. 
 
 Only one person had ever succeeded in break- 
 ing down these strictly business arrangements. 
 The Shtip doctor, the only physician in the town, 
 genial, self-confident, wise in his own profession, 
 always drank his morning coffee in the konak 
 
228 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 courtroom. He had once dragged Midhat Bey 
 from the verge of a nervous collapse, and after 
 the kaimakam recovered, the doctor still came 
 before beginning his morning visits, drank cof- 
 fee and listened to the administering of jus- 
 tice. 
 
 He was there that morning, sipping noisily at 
 his corner table, and nodding encouragement to 
 a row of country and town offenders, ranged on 
 a bench along the outer wall, when the young 
 merchant entered. He watched the newcomer 
 with interest and listened intently to his exami- 
 nation. 
 
 When the stranger was announced, Midhat 
 Bey pushed his papers aside and looked up 
 scowling. 
 
 "Is this your passport?" 
 
 He shoved the paper forward. 
 
 The merchant glanced at it. 
 
 " It is," he said. 
 
 " And — you've come from Salonica ? " 
 
 The kaimakam watched him closely as he an- 
 swered. 
 
 " I started from there, came up to Serres, as 
 you can see, then on in this direction." 
 
 "Where are you going?" 
 
 " To Uskub, on business for the Salonica firm 
 which I represent. I have been detained now 
 longer than I expected and shall be late for my 
 appointment unless I make all speed from here." 
 
 " Not so fast, please," Midhat growled. " If 
 
MERCHANT FROM SALONICA 229 
 
 you were in such a hurry, why didn't you go by 
 the railroad straight to Uskub?" 
 
 " There was business to be transacted in the 
 towns along the road. I carry samples of our 
 goods in my saddlebags and solicit custom on 
 !the way." 
 
 " Very well," Midhat muttered, " but now the 
 trouble is just this: You say you came along 
 the road from Serres. Then yoa must have 
 passed through Demir-Hissar, Petrich, and Rado- 
 vish, anyway. Yet this passport has not been 
 countersigned since you left Serres." 
 
 " You are quite right, Midhat Bey," the mer- 
 chant answered readily, " and I must tell you that 
 in no other town have I found an administration 
 of official matters so careful as yours. When I 
 was at Demir-Hissar I stayed at the home of my 
 uncle, but at Petrich the kaimakam was so drunk 
 I could get no attention at all. My business is 
 important and urgent. I waited another night 
 and demanded my passport. An under-officer 
 threw it at me and told me to clear out. 
 
 " At Radovish I hoped for better fortune and 
 presented my passport at the konak in person, 
 but the kaimakam was not at home. The next 
 morning he was sleeping and refused to see any 
 one before noon. I could not delay, and rode 
 on. I have stopped nowhere since leaving Rado- 
 vish." 
 
 The kaimakam swore under his breath. 
 
 " The old story. It is the same everywhere. 
 
230 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 We are a slovenly race, and any old rascal could 
 slip through our fingers." 
 
 He turned to the merchant. 
 
 " Your story is not impossible," he admitted. 
 " But my duty is to see that every passport has 
 been properly countersigned. You must wait in 
 Shtip until I have made inquiries about you at 
 Salonica." 
 
 " But, Effendi," the merchant objected, "I am 
 no goatherd, who can spend three months in jail 
 while his passport is being examined from here 
 clear to Constantinople. My business allows of 
 no delay. I represent Stuart, Prince & Co., a 
 large American firm in Salonica, as you doubt- 
 less know, and it is absolutely necessary that I be 
 in Uskub by to-night." 
 
 The doctor gulped his last swallow of coflfee 
 and sauntered up. 
 
 " There is something in what the gentleman 
 says, Midhat Bey," he suggested. " It doesn't 
 do to tamper too much with those big American 
 firms. They can't understand our Ottoman ways, 
 get red-peppery at the least annoyance, and send 
 telegrams to their ambassador at Constantinople. 
 They think they own the country, and sometimes 
 they can make other people believe it too. I 
 knew a kaimakam out Monastir way that got into 
 a deuce of a mess because he meddled with the 
 representative of an American company." 
 
 Midhat Bey's chin squared; he set his teeth 
 hard. 
 
MERCHANT FROM SALONICA 231 
 
 " Well," he gave in grudgingly, " I won't keep 
 you here. Cardash Effendl takes a gang of ras- 
 cals up to Uskub to-morrow, and you may go 
 with them. Akiff Pasha can get you out of your 
 scrape if he wants to." 
 
 "But I must be off to-day, Kaimakam!" the 
 merchant insisted. 
 
 "To-morrow!" Midhat Bey thundered. 
 " Zaptieh, take him out." 
 
 The Salonican wheeled about and started for 
 the door. 
 
 " And mind you don't try skipping off by your- 
 self 1 " the kaimakam called after him. " Every 
 door in Shtip has eyes and ears and — claws." 
 
 The merchant closed the door in haughty si- 
 lence. He maintained the same dignity until he 
 locked the door of his room and made sure he 
 was alone. Then he emptied one of the saddle- 
 bags and looked carefully over a bundle of pa- 
 pers which he extracted from amidst his cloth 
 samples. In the collection of six- or seven pass- 
 ports which he carried, he was variously de- 
 scribed as an American missionary-lady, a pedler 
 of laces, a peasant from Nevrokopsko, a dealer 
 in oils and paints, an exarchist teacher, and a 
 Turkish military inspector traveling incognito. 
 
 The youth yawned and studied his reflection 
 in the mirror. His hands fumbled for a while in 
 the fluffy brown hair that came close to his ears. 
 The wig loosened and fell to the floor. Two 
 long, black, tightly plaited braids streamed 
 
232 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 down — and Adalena smiled at herself in the 
 mirror. 
 
 "An American missionary-lady on a visit to 
 the Uiskub district I " she mused, combing out 
 her hair. " It will be strange to pass for a 
 woman after having played the man so long." 
 
 She concealed the American missionary-lady's 
 passport in a secret pocket of her coat. The 
 other six went into the stove. 
 
 Readjusting the brown wig, she strolled to an 
 eastern window, and stared long and wistfully 
 at the Pirin Mountains that loomed elusive in 
 the distance. 
 
 " I wonder Is he too as utterly alone as 
 
 I?" she murmured. 
 
CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 USKUB-BbUND! 
 
 THE next morning a motley cavalcade rode 
 out of Shtip, headed by Cardash Effendi, 
 an Armenian converted to the Moham- 
 medan faith for value received. Adalena, in her 
 carefully appointed merchant's costume, rode at his 
 side, morose and vexed. Directly behind, half 
 a dozen peasants from the country around jolted 
 along on bare muleback, bound to the saddles 
 and guarded by a foul-mouthed, boisterous escort 
 of Turkish and Albanian zaptiehs. 
 
 " You can see for yourself, Effendi," Adalena 
 explained at the start, " that a heavy merchant 
 like myself can not be corralled with that herd. 
 I shall not need close watching. I have nothing 
 to fear in Uskub." 
 
 A silver medjidieh, casually slipped Into Car- 
 dash Effendi's expectant hand, completed the ex- 
 planation. It really was not a bribe, In the bald 
 vernacular of more sophisticated races. The coin 
 served the combined purpose of an introduction 
 and a reference. Had It been a copper gologan, 
 Cardash Effendi would have known in a minute 
 
 233 
 
234 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 that his prisoner was a stingy, every-day rascal, 
 parading as an aristocrat, and would have treated 
 him accordingly. Had the coin been a gold lira, 
 the Armenian would have suspected immediately 
 the sort of prisoner who offered to a mere head 
 zaptieh what only kaimakams and pashas have a 
 right to expect from those in their power, and the 
 bribe, if bribe it was, would have defeated its 
 purpose. 
 
 Adalena Knew Turkish officialdom and its cur- 
 rent rates. A silver medjidieh was the expected 
 and rational bakshish (present) to Introduce her 
 to her imposed escort. Cardash Effendl, of 
 course, did not acknowledge the gift; it would 
 have been contrary to Turkish etiquette and In 
 utterly bad taste. But he nodded affably, and the 
 Salonica merchant rode at his side at the head 
 of the procession, a fellow traveler instead of a 
 prisoner. 
 
 She maintained a dignified silence, however, as 
 behooved a heavy, moneyed merchant, and Car- 
 dash Effendi was made to feel honored in riding 
 alongside the Salonlcan. The first half of the 
 morning wore on In comparative silence. 
 
 At about ten o'clock they approached a way- 
 side inn. 
 
 "Hey there, how mucK do you have In your 
 pouch?" a zaptieh called. 
 
 " Not a piaster," another answered in true Al- 
 banian style. " But I have a dying thirst in my 
 inwards which I'm going to revive. Ha ! Ha ! " 
 
USKUB-BOUNEI 235 
 
 It was obviously one of his favorite jests. " The 
 innkeeper Is a Bulgar — ^why pay him? " 
 
 The heavy merchant turned to his companion. 
 
 " If the men are thirsty, Effendl, I'll see they 
 have something to satisfy them." 
 
 The guard looked at him In surprise. Then 
 he called out: 
 
 *' Ho, stop, all of you ! The noble merchant 
 here says he will pay for the drinks." 
 
 The Albanians tumbled from their horses and 
 fought for first entrance at the door, shouting out 
 their orders. The peasants looked on thirstily. 
 
 The Salonican turned to his escort. 
 
 " You, too, must be dry, Effendi, and a long 
 ride Is ahead." 
 
 They went together Into the Inn. Cardash 
 drank sparingly. The merchant ordered tea. 
 
 " Against the rules of my firm to have anything 
 stronger when on a business journey," the mer- 
 chant explained to Cardash. " But here. Inn- 
 keeper, give these fellows something hot." 
 
 The Albanians shouted boisterous assent and 
 gulped their portions of brandy. 
 
 " A drink all 'round to those poor fellows tied 
 on the mules, too," the Salonican added. 
 
 Cardash looked at him wonderingly. 
 
 " The Chorbadji must have a bottomless bag," 
 he said enviously. 
 
 " Not with me." The other smiled meaningly. 
 *' But we reach UsKub to-night." 
 
 They clambered on their horses and proceeded 
 
23,6 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 at a brisk pace. The spirits of the entire party 
 seemed to rise with the drinks. The merchant 
 and Cardash Effendi waxed talkative. 
 
 " Do you have a large family?" 
 
 Cardash shook his head. 
 
 " Oh, . not so large as it might be, but Allah 
 has been merciful." 
 
 "How many children?" 
 
 " Five — and two daughters. You see," he ex- 
 plained, " we zaptiehs have to live on the blue 
 sky if we attach more than one wife. I haven't 
 had any pay for the last six months. If it were 
 not for the peasants' crops and stock, this would 
 be a hard winter for us. But — ^we get along!" 
 
 " Have you seen much service? " 
 
 " I fought in Asia Minor first. Then I was 
 promoted and sent to Bulgaria when the Russians 
 came down to fight the Sultan. I was in that 
 infernal battle at the Shipka Pass, where a herd 
 of Bulgar milkmen kept Suleyman Pasha's whole 
 army at bay. They were above us in a narrow 
 pass, and when their bullets gave out, they hurled 
 rocks and logs and corpses at us, and held us, too, 
 the cursed dogs, until the Russians arrived and 
 rolled us back. Because of that defeat I was sent 
 out here, and — here I stay, a zaptieh!" 
 
 The merchant nodded sympathetically, and 
 neither spoke again until they stopped at a cross- 
 roads tavern for dinner. Wine-jugs were ranged 
 temptingly on the window-sill and a gander ram- 
 pant added a touch of individuality to the aged 
 
USKUB-BOUND 237 
 
 signboard, swaying and creaking in front of the 
 gate. 
 
 Cardash rode to the door of the tavern and 
 pounded lustily. The landlord stuck his tousled 
 head out of the window. 
 
 " Feed them," ordered the officer, pointing to 
 the zaptiehs, " and be guick about it." 
 
 The innkeeper asked no questions, but scuttled 
 toward the kitchen, driving before him his only 
 helper, a loose-jointed, shriveled lad of twelve. 
 Adalena drew up her horse at the zaptieh's side. 
 
 "You will be my guest at dinner, Effendi? 
 Certainly you do not expect to share with such a 
 rabble." 
 
 "You are generous, Chorhadji," Cardash an- 
 swered, and the merchant hurried away to give 
 the order. 
 
 " Take a round of soup to the ones outside," 
 he said, " and add plenty of bread. I am paying 
 for this." 
 
 A significant touch on the merchant's pouch, 
 and the landlord nodded assent. 
 
 An old rattle-jaw of a hostler, he moved about 
 stealthily, timorously, as if afraid of some one at 
 his back. His eyes roved here and there seeking 
 ia safe place to rest on. His toothless mouth 
 worked in an incessant effort to express some idea 
 which forever eluded him. Some tempest seemed 
 lo have swept over him, body and soul. Even 
 his white hair waved timidly in the wind. 
 
 His whole being bespoke a deferential plea 
 
23? PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 that he be allowed to breathe a few moments 
 longer. Only now and then an angry gleam shot 
 out of the colorless, lashless eyes, which made 
 one wonder what depths of vindicliveness welled 
 up beneath the soft, yielding surface of the inn- 
 keeper. 
 
 Adalena had seen him before. Ivko was the 
 only man in the immediate vicinity who belonged 
 to the revolutionary organization. That he did 
 not recognize her was proof positive of the suc- 
 cess of her disguise. She had meant to stop at 
 his inn; but now she could ill afford to reveal 
 herself. 
 
 "You are a Bulgar?" Ivko whispered with a 
 look of sympathy. 
 
 Cardash Effendi drew near; the merchant 
 turned away without answering and took a seat 
 at a corner table. The Armenian sat opposite 
 and gulped his dinner greedily. Adalena studied 
 the soldiers. 
 
 "They have nothing to drink! Landlord," 
 she cried in rebuke, " give them something warm 
 and don't have it too thin." 
 
 She looked squarely into his eyes. The inn- 
 keeper squinted understandingly. Her tone had 
 been loud. The soldiers looked around. 
 
 " Come on with it, you lazy tortoise," an Al- 
 banian bawled, banging on the table with an iron 
 spoon. " Bring a tankful." 
 
 " They ought not to have it," Cardash said in 
 disapproval. " But this is their touch of your 
 
USKUB-BOUND 239 
 
 European civilization. They will be like hogs 
 by nightfall, especially that barrely one with the 
 twisted mustache. Faik is his name— an Arnaut 
 wolf when he is sober, an Albanian pig when he 
 loads up. 
 
 "You are not ian Albanian? Of course not. 
 I mean no harm anyway. Albanians are strong, 
 healthy animals, faithful beasts if they like you. 
 But Allah preserve you if they smell your blood I 
 I have to humor my pack, and these are like shep- 
 herd dogs, all but Faik. He will die a wolf-pig." 
 
 " Oh, there is nothing in this place to hurt 
 them," the merchant replied. 
 
 They ate in silence. 
 
 "Effendi," the merchant said as they pushed 
 back their coffee cups, " the air will be getting 
 chilly later in the afternoon, and I left my neck- 
 erchief in Shtip. I noticed a little shop across the 
 road. Would you care to step over and see what 
 I could buy there?" 
 
 They started for the door. Adalena lingered 
 slightly behind. As she passed Faik, she slipped 
 a coin on to the table beside him. 
 
 "Another glass, zaptieh," she muttered. 
 
 The Arnaut's hand clapped over the money. 
 
 "Another glass," he roared at the landlord. 
 Cardash turned around. The merchant passed 
 as if he had heard nothing. 
 
 The neckerchief was a quick bargain, but the 
 young Bulgar lingered, looking at the rolls of 
 bright woolens with the eyes of a connoiseur. 
 
240 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 " I gathered from your talk, Effendi, that 
 things might be pleasanter at home," the mer- 
 chant said. 
 
 He picked up a piece of dress goods and ex- 
 amined it closely. 
 
 " It is because there is no money," Cardash 
 answered. " The peasants have 'wheat, meat, 
 but no money. Where is one to get it? Are 
 you ready, Chorbadji?" 
 
 " Why don't you take your wife a present this 
 time?" 
 
 The Salonican was- dangling the bright plaid, 
 holding it up to the light. 
 
 " Here is a beauty." 
 
 *' I can not buy presents." 
 
 The merchant still held the fabric, examining 
 the threads. At length he rolled it up and tossed 
 it to the shopkeeper. 
 
 " Tie it up for the Effendi," he said. " There 
 should be cheer in the home." 
 
 The Armenian's eyes glistened. 
 
 *' You are more than generous, Chorbadji," he 
 said. " She has had no such dress since the wed- 
 ding." 
 
 The Chorbadji waved aside his thanks and 
 went to look after his horse. 
 
 The road, west from the inn, avoided the vil- 
 lage and followed the zigzaggy course of the 
 Bistra River, a mad, tortuous current, spilling 
 over the road-bed on its south bank and flood- 
 ing the lowlands where it could not beat its way 
 
USKUB-BOUND 24 1 
 
 against the rocky terraces which hemmed it on 
 the north. It was a wild stream, bridgeless and 
 quite unfordable, except after a protracted 
 drought. A bridge across it would have saved 
 the traveler to Uskub several hours. But time 
 is cheap in Macedonia, and the Turks followed 
 the turns and bends of the Bistra. 
 
 The cold snap had clutched the restless water 
 on both banks. The dark current coursed an- 
 grily between the two eager sheets of ice that 
 neared each other hour by hour. A squirrel 
 could have leaped the gap that still intervened, 
 but Cardash Effendi was no squirrel. He rode 
 sullenly on, blowing lustily to keep his nose warm 
 and cursing his zaptiehs and prisoners for being 
 so slow. 
 
 It was twilight when the party rode Into Uskub. 
 A blistering cold wind blew down from the hills. 
 The peasants chattered their teeth and groaned 
 in chorus, their limbs aching with stiffness and 
 cold, until Faik slashed out at them with his rid- 
 ing whip. 
 
 The gay windows of a tavern shone across 
 the city square. 
 
 "Is the Pasha's palace here?" the merchant 
 inquired. 
 
 " No," Cardash answered. " We have about 
 ten minutes more to ride." 
 
 "We go directly there, then?" 
 
 "We do." 
 
 The Salonican looked himself over carefully. 
 
242 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 " As I have told you before, Effendl," he said, 
 " I represent one of the largest and most promi- 
 nent firms in all Turkey, Stuart, Prince, and Com- 
 pany, wholesale importers and exporters, of Sa- 
 lonica. The day's ride has been long and I am 
 disheveled and dirty. I should esteem it a great 
 favor, and my firm would also appreciate it, if I 
 had a chance to clean away some of the dust of 
 travel before appearing at Akiff Pasha's palace." 
 
 Cardash shook his head. 
 
 " I am sorry," he said, " but it will be impos- 
 sible, Chorbadji. I haven't a minute to lose un- 
 less I want these pigs on my hands all night." 
 
 He nodded toward the prisoners. 
 
 "I understand," the merchant replied. "Yet 
 for the sake of my firm I must make a good 
 impression on the Pasha. If I could stop for 
 just fifteen minutes at the tavern there " 
 
 He rode closely at the Armenian's side and 
 tapped the back of his hand with something hard 
 and round and shining. 
 
 " You could leave one of the others to guard 
 me, say that hawk-eyed Faik. We would be at 
 the palace almost as soon as yourself." 
 
 Cardash Effendi's hand turned and deposited 
 the money in his pocket. It was a gold lira this 
 time, but the favor asked was also considerable. 
 
 " All right," he said slowly, and called to Faik. 
 " I don't envy you your watch-dog, though. He 
 is the sharpest and meanest in the pack." 
 
 The Uskub tavern was more pretentious than 
 
USKUB-BOUND 243 
 
 the one at Shtip. A stable-boy hustled out for 
 the horses. 
 
 " Feed them in a hurry," the merchant ordered. 
 " We must be off in fifteen minutes." 
 
 The boy stared curiously at the strange pair — 
 the erect, carefully dressed merchant, the slouchy, 
 goose-stepping Albanian. Paying no heed to him, 
 however, they entered the tavern. Fumes of to- 
 bacco and wine and coffee welcomed them to the 
 crowd of evening loafers. Faik snififed thirstily. 
 
 " I'll get a room and clean up," the merchant 
 said, slipping a generous coin into the zaptieh's 
 hand. " Better get you a square meal and plenty 
 to drink while you wait." 
 
 The Albanian looked at his charge gruffly. 
 But he was famishing and thirsty, and a door, 
 opened just then from the kitchen, let out thick 
 clouds of steam heavy with the odor of beef and 
 garlic. A zaptieh in uniform banged his glass on 
 the table and shouted: 
 
 " By my boot-straps, there is Faik himself ! 
 Swinging pretty high, aren't you?" 
 
 " Go on, then," the Albanian muttered under 
 his breath. " But see that you're back in fifteen 
 minutes." 
 
 The ancient clock above the tavern counter had 
 ticked out twelve uncertain minutes and Faik was 
 draining glass after glass, when a slender figure 
 in a long coat, head muffled in a neckerchief, 
 slipped down the stairs, through the room, dim 
 with the smoke of flickering, smelly oil lamps. 
 
244 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 and disappeared in the dark, twisty, narrow alleys 
 of Uskub. 
 
 An hour or so later, Cardash Effendi with sev- 
 eral other officers rushed into the tavern and 
 jerked the drunken, reeling zaptieh back to his 
 senses. Faik rubbed his eyes and leered about 
 stupidly. He had a dim recollection of guarding 
 some one, he wasn't sure whom, and grabbed 
 Cardash by the throat. 
 
 " Let go, you hound," the Effendi gurgled, 
 throwing him ofif. " Where is that Salonica mer- 
 chant?" 
 
 Faik toppled backward, struck a chair, and fell 
 leaden to the floor. Cardash kicked him aside. 
 
 "Search the tavern," he shouted. 
 
 The room was in an uproar. Tables toppled 
 over. The Bulgar merrymakers melted away 
 in the night. No trace was found of the missing 
 merchant. 
 
 A trembling hand touched Cardash Effendi's 
 hand. The stable-boy whispered nervously — 
 
 " The Chorbadji's horse — it is here, and the 
 saddle-bags." 
 
 Cardash followed him on a run to the stable. 
 In the dingy, flickering light of a lantern, they 
 spilled the contents of the bags over the floor. 
 A pile of innocent-looking cloth samples was all 
 they found. 
 
 " If he was a real merchant, why should he 
 run away?" Cardash cursed. 
 
 " I think you have let a revolutionary slip 
 
USKUB-BOUNI) 245 
 
 thorugh your fingers," a Turk remarked. " He 
 gave you a. lira, you say? " this last in a confiden- 
 tial whisper. " He must have been an important 
 rascal! " 
 
 " Well, I am sorry for him if he thinks he 
 can hide in Uskub, the slippery eel! I'm going 
 to the Pasha this minute, and if that make-believe 
 merchant doesn't hang by his heels in jail to- 
 morrow morning, Cardash is a ninnyhammer." 
 
CHAPTER XXX 
 
 A CRUSADE OF TO-MORROW 
 
 DEMETER, by profession Master of the 
 Bulgarian Secondary School, by vocation 
 and in reality Chairman of the Uskub 
 division of the Macedonian Revolutionary Or- 
 ganization, was disciplining an intractable trio of 
 youngsters in his class-room, when a lad knocked 
 at the door. 
 
 " A guest at your home, Master Demeter, who 
 wishes to see you at once," the lad said quietly. 
 
 "I don't know who he is," Demeter's wife 
 whispered as he came into the kitchen and in- 
 quired for his guest. "The door was open; he 
 rushed in out of breath and told me to call you 
 at once, but not to whisper a word to anyone else 
 about his coming. He is very young and quiet. 
 I put him in the loft, and he hasn't stirred since." 
 
 Demeter climbed to the loft, candle in hand. 
 The garret stretched over the entire house, its 
 cobwebby gloom relieved only by two dusty dor- 
 mer windows and unfiirnished, a low, dingy store- 
 room and catch-all for every cast-off possession 
 or precious heirloom of the family. 
 
 246 
 
A CRUSADE OF TO-MORROW 247 
 
 Demeter held his candle above his head and 
 peered about uncertainly, his body but half pro- 
 jecting through the trap-door that opened in tKe 
 floor. A mouse scuttled away before the light, 
 but there was no other sound* Demeter could 
 see only the dim shapes of old chests, a discarded 
 bedstead, and some antique mattresses. He 
 mounted a step higher on the ladder. 
 
 " My friend," he said aloud, " I am Demeter 
 Nikoloff." 
 
 A shadow moved out of the darkness. 
 
 " And I, comrade," a girl's voice answered, 
 " am Adalena Andreyeva. I have just escaped 
 from the Turks as a merchant from Salonica. I 
 shall need to change my disguise at once." 
 
 The trap-door slammed behind Demeter. The 
 candle went out with the rush of air and fell from 
 'his hand. He grasped the girl's outstretched 
 palm in both his own, shaking it in a mad wel- 
 come. 
 
 " You have escaped once more I Oh, what a 
 woman ! And we had given you up for lost. Our 
 hope still lives, then. We have been burning 
 candles for the dead. To-night we shall double 
 the number, rejoicing over the living." 
 
 " Does news travel so swiftly in Macedonia ? "■ 
 Adalena said wonderingly, " How could you 
 know I was captured?" 
 
 " We weren't sure, of course, but I knew how 
 often you traveled as a monk, and we heard some 
 days ago that the Bash-Komitaji, posing as a 
 
248 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 monk, had been captured in the Pirin highlands 
 near Goreno and was to be brought here to Akiff 
 Pasha. We trembled, fearing it must be you, 
 and despaired of our plans to save you, because 
 we knew you would never let yourself really fall 
 into the hands of the Turks alive." 
 
 Adalena stood paralyzed. 
 
 "What are you saying, Demeter? I was not 
 captured as a monk near Goreno, but only es- 
 corted from Shtip In this merchant's costume. 
 Tell me, what is wrong in Goreno? " 
 
 " Dobry the Iconograph blew up the house of 
 Stavry the Money-lender, and killed Stavry and 
 some zaptiehs, but lost his own life. But the 
 
 Bash-Komitaji, If not you Then who can 
 
 this monk be?" Demeter puzzled. "Why — 
 Adalena I " 
 
 Demeter stopped In amazement. The girl's 
 face was burled in her hands. She shook con- 
 vulsively. 
 
 " Great God, have mercy I " she sobbed. 
 "What have I done!" 
 
 He tried in vain to rouse her. She was deaf 
 to his pleading. The whole miserable truth was 
 slowly dawning upon her. 
 
 " Dobry gone ! And Boyan — my brave her- 
 mit lad I You did It all for me ; and — I scorned 
 you for a coward." 
 
 In despair, Demeter staggered down to his 
 wife. 
 
 " Put a dress on her," he said, " and burn 
 
A CRUSADE OF TO-MORROW 249 
 
 those things she has on. The Turks will be turn- 
 ing all Uskub upside down before long." 
 
 Some time later a pale, listless girl followed 
 good mother Nedda down the ladder. She crept 
 shivering to the open fire in the kitchen and 
 watched apathetically as Demeter burned her 
 merchant finery. The whole world seemed sud- 
 denly to have slipped from under her feet. 
 
 When her host spoke, she stared at him va- 
 cantly, struggling to catch his words, and sank 
 back before he had finished, shaking her head in 
 despair. Demeter lost his patience. 
 
 " Adalena," he said sternly, " are you a mas- 
 ter-organizer or a missionary schoolgirl? You 
 must rouse yourself at once. Get your passport; 
 any moment may bring the zaptiehs here looking 
 for their merchant, and what will become of 
 Nedda and me then?" 
 
 His words had their effect. She straightened 
 up. The dazed look left her eyes. Only her 
 tense lips and bloodless face told that she was 
 suffering. 
 
 " I took it out of my merchant's clothes when 
 I changed into this dress, and put it into my bag," 
 she said. " I've left that In the loft. Give me 
 a candle. I shall bring it." 
 
 "I'll carry the light," Nedda said gently. 
 " Your hand is too trembly, little one. And then 
 you must have some supper. We are all hungry 
 and may need our strength afore morning." 
 
 " Mother, we should keep Adalena here with 
 
250 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 us," Demeter said kindly as they sat at supper. 
 " Two old crows like us with their fledglings flown 
 need a younger " 
 
 Someone knocked violently at the gate; the 
 three started to their feet, 
 
 "Your passport?" Demeter whispered 
 hoarsely. 
 
 " On the shelf." 
 
 " You are ? " 
 
 " Miss Carroll, an American missionary on a 
 visit to the Uskub district." 
 
 The knocking was insistent. Demeter growled, 
 rose with a stifled curse and unbolted the gate. 
 On the sleet-polished steps stood a gaunt, wiz- 
 ened mountaineer, clad in the corn-colored home- 
 spun of the Pirin villages and diffusing a perfume 
 of frost-bitten garlic pickled in whiskey. 
 
 Demeter had expected a Turkish zaptieh, and 
 was taken aback at the sight of the unlooked-for 
 visitor. He did not invite the peasant in, but 
 scrutinized him suspiciously. 
 
 "Well?" he asked. 
 
 Instead of answering, the gaunt one shook the 
 snow off his blanket-weave coat and matted sheep- 
 skin cap and stepped past his unwilling host. Re- 
 quiring no urging whatever, and with a sugges- 
 tion of loutish unconcern, he walked over to the 
 fireplace and made himself at home in the big 
 oak chair. 
 
 "Well?" Demeter repeated. 
 
 But the peasant only sighed comfortably and 
 
A CRUSADE OF TO-MORROW 251 
 
 stretched his feet before the fire. The heat from 
 the pine logs steamed up his sandals and leggings, 
 and licked away the icicles of his shaggy beard 
 and tom-cat mustache. For a while Demeter sur- 
 veyed him with misgiving curiosity; then, decid- 
 ing that his guest was thawed out and should be 
 about ready to state the object of his visit, he 
 offered him a pipeful. The gaunt visitor deftly 
 snatched a brand from the fire and lighted up 
 without singeing his eyebrows. 
 
 " The women-folk of this house are very hos- 
 pitable," he drawled. " Do they entertain every 
 guest that crosses the threshold?" He glanced 
 significantly at Demeter's wife, who rose as if 
 to leave the room, when his eye rested on Ada- 
 lena. A perplexed look come over his face; he 
 scratched his forehead. 
 
 "Have I — had the honor?" he began, but 
 Demeter cut him short. 
 
 " No, you haven't. Miss Carroll is an Ameri- 
 can missionary lady who has just dropped in this 
 afternoon to tell us about our .little daughter 
 studying in the Samokov mission-school." De- 
 meter spoke glibly, but the odd peasant kept 
 staring at the girl, who returned his gaze unper- 
 turbed. 
 
 "A missionary lady?" he murmured. "Quite 
 so. I thought for a minute I had seen her, once, 
 preaching a — a different gospel. In fact, I still 
 think, — ^but no matter. 
 
 "Let them stay If they want to," he added. 
 
252 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 "The missionary lady as well as-* your old 
 
 woman." 
 
 " Whether she is old or young is her own busi- 
 ness," Demeter's wife snapped, — the tender 
 Nedda was very tender on some topics, — "but 
 what may your business be?" 
 
 The peasant sniffed half-condescendingly, half- 
 contemptuously. 
 
 " I came to ask questions, not to answer any," 
 he grunted through his pipe, and stared uncon- 
 cernedly at the fire. 
 
 " Several weeks ago," he began after a few 
 moments, as if conversing with the pine-logs, 
 " several weeks ago, Murad Pasha's tax-wagon 
 was — ^well, let us say robbed, in the Krividol 
 Gulch." 
 
 Adalena half-started, but Demeter answered in 
 the most casual of tones: 
 
 "Really? News travels slowly these winter 
 months in our parts." 
 
 "Where is it hidden?" the gaunt one sud- 
 denly shot the question at Demeter. 
 
 The school-master flared in protest. " What 
 sort of a rascal are you to be asking me such 
 questions? " he cried menacingly. " Do you want 
 to get me into trouble, — or yourself?" 
 
 " Gently, gently, friend," the peasant went on. 
 " I have come to find the exact whereabouts of 
 that money — or get part of it." 
 
 " So you have," gibed Demeter. " And who 
 may your honor be, pray tell? " 
 
A CRUSADE OF TO-MORROW 253 
 
 " Vasko Voivoda" 
 
 Demeter drew himself together and shuddered 
 at the sound of that name, but to his wife it 
 meant nothing; and it must have been no news 
 to Adalena, for she returned calmly the look 
 which the gaunt one cast at her. 
 
 " I thought I had seen you before," he con- 
 cluded. 
 
 "You want your bone?" she surveyed him 
 scornfully. "Well — there are no bones left." 
 
 "You mean the bones are all in Bulgaria by 
 now?'' he laughed. "Oh, no, the carcass was 
 too big for that, — and besides I am myself on 
 my way back from Bulgaria. Six days ago a 
 man who knows told me the gold was still on the 
 Sultan's side of the border. Never mind how he 
 knew. Ivan the Huntsman's trip to the 'Turk's 
 Head' cliff is not wholly his own secret. My 
 men may find the gold before I find Ivan. You 
 had better divide while you have a chance, De- 
 meter." 
 
 The schoolmaster was taken aback, but quickly 
 recovered his composure. " Every piaster of 
 that money is needed to keep the spirit of revo- 
 lution alive," he protested. 
 
 " The spirit of revolution 1 Bah I " Vasko 
 sneered. " Whole regiments of the Supreme 
 Revolutionary Committee's agents are scouring 
 Bulgaria, wearing out their brains and shoe- 
 leather collecting money, money, money. Dozens 
 of Imbecile squash-seed venders in Sofia are giv- 
 
254 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 ing you a full half of their miserable earnings to 
 buy gunpowder and Mannlichers, always in prep- 
 aration for the big fight. 
 
 "And the big fight never comes. You people 
 publish newspapers, you prepare memoranda, 
 you hold mass-meetings in Bulgaria; in Mace- 
 donia you elect presidents and vice-presidents and 
 regional inspectors; you do in fact everything, — 
 but you do not fire a shot. Your rifles rust in 
 your Sofia depots, and meanwhile, here in the 
 mountains, we are facing the real music. You 
 call me and my sort plain noon-day robbers, lack- 
 ing ideals and all that, but it is we who give the 
 Turks their due. How many Turks have you 
 killed, School-master, or you, Dulgokossa? 
 
 " But I am always wasting my words — to the 
 point. If you want half of that tax-money to get 
 into Bulgaria, you'll hand over the other half to 
 me and my band." 
 
 Demeter moved suspiciously toward the inner 
 room. 
 
 " Oh, no, you needn't try ! " Vasko warned him. 
 " I have six chunks of lead in mine, and outside 
 six unshaven devils like me know where I am this 
 minute." 
 
 A violent kicking at the gate brought all to 
 their feet. 
 
 "Ei, Giaur!" a raucous voice shouted com- 
 mandingly. 
 
 " Zapttehs!" Vasko hissed. "Where is your 
 back door? " 
 
A CRUSADE OF TO-MORROW 255 
 
 " Here — quick," Nedda led him out. 
 
 " Open, Giaur," the voice clamored angrily. 
 Demeter unbolted the gate. Half a dozen rough 
 zaptiehs pushed in. 
 
 " Search the place," the leader called. " Here, 
 who's this?" He turned to Adalena. 
 
 " An American missionary lady, Effendi," De- 
 meter answered. " She has just arrived this even- 
 ing by train. May I ask the reason for this intru- 
 sion?" 
 
 " If we find what we want, you'll know soon 
 enough," the Turk snarled. " If we don't, you 
 don't need to know. Where is her passport?" 
 
 Demeter handed it over. The Turk frowned 
 at it, held it upside down, studied the foreign- 
 looking, near-American seal, and grumbled assent. 
 
 " Better take it to the konak and be quick 
 about it," he growled. 
 
 " I shall — -immediately," Demeter answered. 
 
 They could hear the soldiers tossing the furni- 
 ture about in the other rooms. 
 
 " Bring a light here, old woman," one of them 
 called from the top of the loft steps. Nedda 
 started to obey, but Demeter snatched the candle 
 from her. 
 
 " Sit down," he muttered fiercely, and followed 
 the soldiers. 
 
 Boxes were hurled about, chests thrown over; 
 the house trembled with the clatter and resounded 
 with the disappointed oaths of the soldiers. 
 
 " Nothing here, Effendi," they said, coming 
 
256 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 down. " The fox has found another hole." 
 
 Two of them lingered long enough to gulp the 
 milk from the table and snatch the silver candle- 
 stick that stood before an icon in a corner ; then, 
 with a leer at the girl by the wall, they followed 
 the others. Demeter bolted the gate once more 
 and stood with clenched fists, listening to the up- 
 roar in his neighbor's house. Nedda cowered in 
 a corner, choking back her tears, her eyes riv- 
 eted on her husband. Adale'na gripped the back 
 of her chair, rigid. As the noise of the soldiers 
 died away, Demeter sank in his chair and leaned 
 his head on his hand. The apathy of utter de- 
 spair was in his face and voice. 
 
 " And this story is five hundred years old," he 
 groaned. " It will be five hundred years older 
 if we last that long! " 
 
 " No, Demeter, no," the girl cried. " It can 
 not last so long! " 
 
 "Who will prevent it? We have tried; we 
 have fought. And it is not Turks alone who op- 
 pose us. Take that slippery, peppery vulture 
 Vasko. Do you think he wants liberty? He 
 wants carcasses to feed on. Cutting a rich Turk's 
 throat for ten pounds is his notion of a revolu- 
 tion, — that it may cost the lives of a hundred 
 peasant devils after he is off, concerns him little. 
 He precipitates a massacre and calls it keeping 
 things stirred up. How can you liberate a land 
 when the cowards turn Greeks and betray you to 
 the Turks, and the cutthroats cause an uprising 
 
A CRUSADE OF TO-MORROW 257 
 
 before you are half-ready? Every year some 
 coward or some hothead ruins overnight the 
 labor of years in some district or other. Why, 
 a man distrusts his own brother. What's the 
 use?" 
 
 It reminded the girl of what another had said. 
 She quivered and was long silent. Then she 
 raised her head, her eyes glowing In the firelight. 
 
 " We must be more careful in choosing our 
 men," she urged. " We must work harder." 
 
 " No, we are doomed to defeat as long as 
 we fight alone, Adalena. Help must come 
 from " 
 
 " Help ? " Adalena interrupted him. " Manna 
 from the blue sky perhaps. Forget those nun- 
 nery tales, Demeter." 
 
 "So they are," Nedda agreed. "What good 
 did even our holy icon do us? We've lost our 
 candlestick in the bargain." 
 
 " Russia and Austria have worked out a plan 
 of reform, I hear," Demeter suggested. 
 
 " So an Austrian told me last summer in Sa- 
 lonica. He was declaiming what a glorious port 
 it could become^n Franz Josef's hands. Then 
 what do you suppose he added? " 
 
 Adalena laughed bitterly as she asked the ques- 
 tion. 
 
 " ' Turkey is a sick man,' the Austrian said. 
 ' Austria will not let him die until she is ready 
 to bury him in her own backyard.' 
 
 "And Russia? Demeter, to the Great White 
 
258 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 Czar we are a bridge to Constantinople. If Bul- 
 garia agrees to play bridge-keeper for Russia, 
 our Bulgarian nationality is recognized at Peters- 
 burg. If not, why, we are treated as Serbs, 
 Vlakhs, — any old breed " 
 
 "America " Demeter began; but the 
 
 Uskub school-master's theme was an old one 
 for Adalena. 
 
 " America ! " she cried. " She sends us mis- 
 sionaries to save our souls from Satan. Why 
 doesn't she first save our sisters from the Turks? 
 A religion which leads outraged women to praise 
 Jesus Instead of cursing Mohammed, which bends 
 In prayer the knees and necks of live, strong men, 
 is a very pestilence for Macedonia ! " 
 
 " But America Is rich and strong, she could 
 help us!" 
 
 " What are we to America? Is she our mother 
 or our mother-in-law? The worse off we are, the 
 more comfort she will find In praying for us, five 
 thousand miles away. A hundred Macedonian 
 girls are ruined every week. Are they less vir- 
 tuous, are they less beautiful, are they less pre- 
 cious than the missionaries' daughters? Yet the 
 Americans only keep on praying for the Holy 
 Spirit to descend on Turk and Bulgar alike. 
 
 " But one gray-haired spinster Is kidnapped to 
 raise money for the revolution. The kidnappers 
 demand less money than America sends every 
 year to maintain prayer-meetings In this accursed 
 land; the lady Is cared for like a queen in cap- 
 
A CRUSADE OF TO-MORROW 259 
 
 tlvity. But her American pedigree rouses her 
 reverend kinsfolk to write fiery letters on dark- 
 est Macedonia; the kidnapped spinster becomes 
 an international celebrity; she keeps ambassadors 
 awake nights; a thousand journals begin to smell 
 gunpowder, and armored cruisers cross the ocean 
 and threaten to blow up the Sublime Porte unless 
 the American-born goddess-lady Is released imme- 
 diately, so she can tell the pious folk of two 
 continents how barbarous a nation she has been 
 trying to save for the Lord. And meanwhile the 
 daughters of Macedonia suffer the same unutter- 
 able agonies, but they are mere natives ; their im- 
 mortal souls are precious, but not their woman- 
 hood, their honor. We need rifles, Demeter, not 
 Bibles. Preach the gospel of Jesus in this Turk- 
 ish hell ! It is a mockery 1 " 
 
 Demeter looked at her astonished. He had 
 never heard her so roused. 
 
 " In Bulgaria our kinsmen are free," he pro- 
 tested. " I remember seeing valiant soldiery in 
 Sofia. 
 
 i» 
 
 Memories of her struggle with Boyan flooded 
 Adalena's mind. 
 
 " Everywhere I hear the same song. As if 
 Bulgaria could hand us our freedom all ready on 
 a platter. If we can not help ourselves, Bulgaria 
 can never help us ! " 
 
 " Help ourselves? " Demeter laughed. " Ada- 
 lena, as I looked, helpless, at those beasts ravag- 
 ing my home, It seemed to me that all struggle 
 
26o PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 was vain, futile — unless some one comes to free 
 us from this hell." 
 
 " You cannot free an unawakened people, Dc- 
 meter. Some of us would betray our liberators 
 if they came along to-morrow." 
 
 Adalena bent forward across the table, her 
 eyes burning earnestly before the apathetic face 
 of the Uskub man. In the voice of Demeter she 
 heard the voice of a whole nation, hopeful and 
 hopeless by turns. 
 
 " We must be ready ourselves. Bulgaria alone 
 can do little ; Servia nothing at all. But together, 
 Demeter — think I Allied together, fighting shoul- 
 der to shoulder. What if, when we revolt, all 
 Balkandom should join us, strike one united 
 blowl" 
 
 " Greece, Montenegro? " 
 
 " Why not ? Have we not suffered long enough 
 through our mutual jealousies? Turkey is rotten. 
 United, Balkandom could crush her to dust, and 
 Macedonia, Old Servia, Thessaly, Crete, all 
 could be free at once ! But the flame of freedom 
 must consume the souls of us all before it can set 
 the Balkan armies afire. We, we, we must do 
 it first!" 
 
 For a moment the man caught her vision. His 
 face kindled. 
 
 " Then I Then ! " he exclaimed jubilantly, his 
 eyes afire. But the light died out. 
 
 " Adalena, dear girl, the day for miracles is 
 past. Greek, Serb, and Bulgar were at each 
 
A CRUSADE OF TO-MORROW 261 
 
 other's throats long before the Turk appeared. 
 Such an alliance — ^you are dreaming." 
 
 " What if a strong man were to be found to 
 preach such a crusade, Demeter?" 
 
 Her voice trembled slightly. 
 
 " It is not my idea. A brave man, one who 
 could have preached such a crusade, told it to 
 me — Boyan, the hermit monk of the Pirin Moun- 
 tains, who is coming to Uskub in chains at the 
 order of Akiff Pasha." 
 
 " You know him then? " 
 
 "I left him just before his capture. They 
 came for me. He must have given himself in 
 my stead," Adalena said quietly. 
 
 Husband and wife exchanged comprehending 
 glances, but said not a word. 
 
 It must have been near midnight. Demeter and 
 Nedda slept soundly, but into their slumbers a 
 persistent tapping finally penetrated. 
 
 " Nedda ! Demeter 1 some one is knocking at 
 the gate." 
 
 "Yes, Adalena, just one minute." The old 
 people strained their ears, listening. 
 
 Tap-tap-tap — tap, it came insistently, three 
 short knocks and one long one. Then again t^p- 
 tap-tap — tap. 
 
 " It is a comrade's signal, Nedda. Where's 
 my coat? " 
 
 Demeter hustled into his clothes and opened 
 the gate. Ivan the Huntsman rushed in, shiver- 
 ing with cold. 
 
262 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 "Is Adalena here?" he asked hurriedly, as 
 Demeter shot the bolt into its socket. 
 
 "Yes. What news?" 
 
 " Let me see Adalena." 
 
 They found her in the kitchen, fully dressed 
 as they had left her before retiring. She sprang 
 forward eagerly as she caught sight of Tosho's 
 son. 
 
 "You bring tidings from Goreno?" 
 
 " Boyan the Hermit was captured, the Turks 
 mistaking him for you. He played the part of 
 the Bash-komitaji valiantly, and almost escaped, 
 but was recaptured at our hut and is now to be 
 sent hither under strong guard, led by Selim Bey." 
 
 Adalena dug her nails into her palms. 
 
 " If he is brought here, nothing can save him 
 from Akiff Pasha's clutches." 
 
 " We could organize a band of Uskub boys," 
 Demeter began. 
 
 " No, violence won't do. The Turks will kill 
 him before giving him up." 
 
 She thought a while. 
 
 " Listen," she burst out, " do you know Ivko's 
 Inn near Poosty, on the road from Shtip here?" 
 
 "That old toothless fellow?" Demeter asked. 
 
 " Yes. He has lost his wife and three children 
 in Turkish raids. He is the only man I can trust 
 on the high road from Goreno to Uskub. Selim 
 Bey will be sure to stop overnight at his inn, so 
 as to make a triumphal entry into Uskub in broad 
 daylight. We must go to Ivko's Inn, Ivan, just 
 
A CRUSADE OF TO-MORROW 263 
 
 the two of us and bide their coming. I — I have 
 a plan. Demeter, the meeting of the district 
 leaders will have to be postponed. Get us a 
 couple of horses ready. We must be off before 
 dawn." 
 
CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 TOOTH-MONEY 
 
 BOYAN lay on the clammy prison-floor of 
 packed mud and wondered what the mor- 
 row would bring. The sense of his utter 
 helplessness maddened him, but, instead of crush- 
 ing his spirit, only steeled his determination to 
 play his part to the end. There was something 
 tragically ludicrous, and something epic, about 
 this hermit, on trial as a master-rebel, blushing 
 at his success in an assumed role which he had 
 refused to accept in real life. 
 
 " Bash-komitap! " he smiled bitterly. "How 
 she would laugh in scorn, did she see me mas- 
 querading! And yet — if I only had that call 
 again I Adalena," he whispered, "if we could 
 only meet: together we could set this whole na- 
 tion aflame." 
 
 The jangle of Keys at his door brought him to 
 himself. 
 
 " Here, you sharp-tongued unbeliever," the 
 jailer yelled at him, "up with you! In half an 
 hour you go under special guard to Uskub. Akiff 
 Pasha will tickle your tongue Into confessing, and 
 Akiif uses red pepper, I have heard. 
 
 264 
 
TOOTH-MONEY 265 
 
 "So listen to Old Mehmet Aga," the jailer 
 went on wisely. " Oil your jaws a bit when you 
 speak to him. Akiff Pasha is no Albanian. The 
 high language doesn't go with him. He'd make 
 kindlings of the Grand Vizier himself if the 
 Vizier didn't weigh his words." 
 
 " Shut up," Boyan commanded. *' Bring me 
 something to eat." 
 
 " Feed a prisoner that is off my hands? " 
 
 The jailer swore. 
 
 " Where do you think you are, you cassocked 
 gander? In a monastery chicken-coop? There — 
 can't you see what a plenty of them are crawling 
 all about you? " 
 
 He sniffed in the direction of the Inhabited 
 walls. 
 
 "Eat your fill!" 
 
 He banged the door viciously as he left the 
 bash-komitaji to his bed of clammy dirt. 
 
 In Ivko's wayside inn Selim Bey held high court 
 and carnival on a night biting, clear, and cold as 
 only a Macedonian night can be cold when the 
 winds of the Pirin peaks and the winds of Shar 
 whistle In concert. The windows rattled behind 
 their Iron-bar lattices. The chimney-top moaned. 
 The logs on the fire spasmodically flamed up or 
 filled the room with smoke. 
 
 It was a night for ghost stories, for hot, steam- 
 mg raki and ruddy wine, for Indoor riot and ri- 
 bald jollities. For Selim Bey, It was the last night 
 
266 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 of his lordship over the bash-komitaji, whose 
 proud disdain had humiliated and increasingly 
 angered him. But Selim was in the good graces 
 of Akiff Pasha. He had even contemplated turn- 
 ing his back on rustic Goreno and trying his of- 
 ficial luck in Uskub. 
 
 The safe delivery of the Master Rebel would 
 improve his standing with the Faii of Uskub. 
 Meanwhile the night was biting. So was Ivko's 
 raki; and the prisoner was accordingly dumped 
 without much ado in a corner away from the fire 
 and left there to ponder on his brief destiny in 
 undisturbed solitude. 
 
 At a table drawn near the burning pine-logs, 
 glasses clinked, platters clattered, the old rickety 
 tavern rang with Turkish revelry. Fermented 
 grape-juice or the sweetest wine have not been 
 distilled: they are, therefore, unclean and taboo 
 to strict, old-fashioned Moslems. But raki has 
 been through the fire, — and the dizziest glass of 
 fiery whiskey goes in modernized Islam. The 
 zaptiehs diluted theirs with water: Selim sipped 
 it almost straight. 
 
 Only two sullen zaptiehs failed to share in the 
 common jollification. Stationed on guard near 
 Boyan, they kept a grumbling vigil, covetously 
 counting the glasses of raki whisky that were the 
 portion of their more fortunate comrades. They 
 alone abstained. They alone, and one other. By 
 the foot of the shaky staircase, Tossun Effendi, 
 sent along by Murad Pasha as his son's especial 
 
TOOTH-MONEY 267 
 
 aide, watched the riotous crowd in taciturn dis- 
 approval. Unable to restrain himself any longer, 
 he approached the Bey. 
 
 " I don't like it, Selim Bey," he remonstrated. 
 " The zaptiehs are making hogs of themselves. 
 Another hour, and their rifles will not be worth 
 a shepherd's crook." 
 
 But Murad's son was in a jolly, democratic 
 mood. 
 
 "You're a croaker, Tossun," he laughed at 
 his aide, " the boys have been freezing on horse- 
 back all day, and we must be up and away bright 
 and early to-morrow. Let them fill up for once 
 in their lives : nobody is paying for this ! 
 
 " Psst, you toothless caterpillar," he shouted 
 to the hostler, " bring in another platterful of 
 mutton, and have a bunch of garlic all cleaned to 
 go with it, and here we're all out of your baked 
 dough: haul in some real bread next time. The 
 boys have cleaned up the eggs, too. Now hurry 
 about it, lazy hands I " Selim was warming up. 
 "And hold on here, before you go after your 
 litter, you'd better pay up I " 
 
 The innkeeper raised his hand to his heart In 
 a pleading gesture : 
 
 " Pay up for what? " 
 
 ** For what? For making me soil my mouth 
 eating your garbage and drinking your swill, 
 cripple-foot. Do you think I am going to work 
 my teeth over a giaur's cooking for nothing, eh? 
 Tooth-money you must pay us all : dish-parasi! "' 
 
268 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 " Don't torture ?, carcass like mc, pray don't, 
 Selim Pasha I" 
 
 " Selim Pasha indeed 1" the Bey roared. 
 " Well, then, see what Selim Pasha will do to 
 you I Essad Effendi," he called to a burly zaptieh, 
 "hang him by one foot and shake out all his 
 pockets I " 
 
 Ten minutes later Ivko shambled off to the 
 kitchen, his hands trembling, his head in a whirl, 
 with a look of raging agony in the bloodshot eyes, 
 while the zaptiehs were quarreling over the hand- 
 ful of copper and silver coin which had dropped 
 out of his pockets. The Turks took up their 
 drinking again. 
 
 Once more Tossun drew forward. 
 
 " I wish we had pushed on to Uskub to-night, 
 Selim Bey," he insisted. " We could have made 
 the city by midnight." 
 
 " Yes, and crept in like frozen curs to give our 
 juicy bone over to Akiff Pasha ! Listen to him, 
 boys," he turned to the zaptiehs, " why did we 
 wear parade-uniforms, and why did we oil our 
 mustaches, if we meant to slip into Uskub by the 
 back door?" 
 
 "Uuuhf" the zaptiehs jeered in sympathy 
 with their chief. 
 
 " No, Tossun, we'll march in Uskub with drum 
 and bag-pipe precisely at noon to-morrow, and 
 make every plump Hanoum, and giaur female 
 too, air her house while looking at us out of her 
 window." 
 
TOOTH-MONEY 269 
 
 The table applauded with clinking glasses and 
 loud nose-blowing. 
 
 A knock at the inn-door sent the old hostler 
 shambling across the room on his way to let the 
 newcomers in. 
 
 " Stop there, froghead," Selim shouted. " Find 
 out who they are first." 
 
 Ivko pushed aside the curtain of a small win- 
 dow near the door and peered out. 
 
 '* Open, giaur! " voices shouted in Turkish. 
 Ivko swore under his breath, but smiled approv- 
 ingly at Selim Bey. 
 
 " Sultan's soldiery, I fancy," he said and un- 
 bolted the door. 
 
 "Well, by my empty saddle-bags I Osman 
 Effendi ! " Selim jumped up to greet the leader 
 of the party. " What are you seeking here on 
 this blistering icicle of a night?" 
 
 " Making my obeisance to Murad Pasha's dar- 
 ling firstborn," the newcomer laughed. 
 
 Osman Effendi was Akiff Pasha's right hand, 
 and he looked the part. His oiled, close-cropped 
 black hair, shaved around the neck, his pomade- 
 stiffened, awl-pointed moustachios and bristling 
 side-whiskers, his double-vested, velvet-trimmed 
 spintop-pantalooned trappings, all showing be- 
 neath his unbuttoned wolfskin coat, with a long- 
 ta3selled fez surmounting all, proclaimed him the 
 knowing dandy that he was, a bon vivant whose 
 inexhaustible stock of Constantinople tales kept 
 the Pasha of Uskub in good humor and himself 
 
270 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 in an abundance of good cigars and better 
 hopes of official preferment. 
 
 " Guess it is too cold for the old masters, so 
 they send us out a-roving," he laughed at Selim 
 Bey. " An important rascal slipped through Car- 
 dash the Armenian fool's hands just as he entered 
 Uskub, and I've been freezing my ankles trying 
 to trace his hoof-prints. And you?" 
 
 "As you see " Selim glanced in Boyan's 
 
 direction. 
 
 " Oh, is this the hash-komitaji? Good even- 
 ing, prince of idle dreamers I we'll meet again: 
 don't fail to recognize me." He coughed in dis- 
 dain and spat derisively in the hermit's face. 
 
 "But what are you doing here, Selim Bey?" 
 he continued in a sophisticated, almost conde- 
 scending tone : " eating and drinking with your 
 inferiors?" 
 
 Selim mumbled a reply. 
 
 " This hole is no place to sleep in. Come over 
 with me : there is an extra soft bed somewhere in 
 Poosty, let's find it. I'll leave Djavid Effendi, 
 my best man, in your stead, and he is quite sober, 
 Selim Bey. Hey, you cross-eyed scarecrow!" he 
 y«lled at the innkeeper, " get the Bey's horse 
 ready in two winks 1 " 
 
 " But, Selim Bey," Tossun protested, " the 
 hash " 
 
 "Hang the hash-komitaji/" Selim shouted afe 
 him. " Djavid Effendi here will remain in my 
 place. And I'm going just over to Poosty." 
 
TOOTH-MONEY 271 
 
 Sellm raised a glass. " Come, sweeten, your 
 temper a bit, Tossun." 
 
 The hend-zaptieh shook his head. 
 
 " Coffee, then," the Bey ordered. " Here, you 
 sniveling, knock-kneed, donkey-eared lunatic ! " 
 he yelled at the bewildered boy, "bring the Ef- 
 fendi a cup of hot coffee, and don't you bring 
 him hot swillwater like this you brought me, or 
 I'll tan your hams I " 
 
 " Before you turn in, Djavid Effendi," Selim 
 rose, " order the soberest one to watch the road." 
 Djavid nodded and settled down in the Bey's place 
 Sat the table. 
 
 " Allah bless you with many concubines, Selim 
 Bey!" a bleary Kurd yelled in a high-pitched 
 voice as Murad's son followed the party of 
 lUskub-men out of the inn. "Why did we leave 
 Goreno, anyway, if we can't have a little fun put 
 of this cold trip? Think of all the ■winters edenki 
 we are missing: sugar-fried wheatshreds, and red- 
 lipped plump partridges . . ." 
 
 The Kurd had struck a common note ; the table 
 buzzed with tales and reminiscences, recounted 
 obviously for the newcomer's benefit. The con- 
 versation wandered into its accustomed Turkish 
 channnels : the brave men of the Sultan vied with 
 each other in the shameless explicitness of their 
 narratives; blatantly frank and circumstantial, the 
 tales dripped from clammy lips that curled witH 
 bestial memories. The unutterable story of 
 Macedonia's manhood and womanhood had un- 
 
272 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 dergone a diabolical translation, and the rehearsal 
 of heart-rending cries now shook the round-table 
 of Mohammedans with laughter. 
 
 Tossun took his coffee in slow, noisy sups, 
 wiped his mustache on his sleeve, and went over 
 to the corner where the prisoner sat. He looked 
 long at the Bulgar and his two burly guards, then 
 tapped Ahmed significantly on the shoulder. 
 
 " I am going to sleep now," he said. " At the 
 least alarm fire a shot, and I'll be with you." 
 
 The zaptieh saluted. Tossun climbed the rick- 
 ety stairs to the sleeping quarters above, selected 
 a bed in the room nearest the landing, and rolled 
 in. 
 
 Below the revelry continued. But the Turks 
 had been ahorse all day, and toward midnight 
 even the sober Djavid Effendi grew drowsy. 
 One after another the men straggled upstairs and 
 threw themselves across the mattresses, the latest 
 comers rolling on the floor. 
 
 Muddled with drink, Djavid still had a hazy 
 notion that he was to order some one to do 
 something, but he could not remember exactly 
 what. He scratched his forehead as he stretched 
 his heavy legs on the single bed in the room re- 
 served for himself, but he could only decide that 
 some one was to guard somewhere. He banged 
 on the wall. A sleepy zaptieh from the next room 
 opened the door. 
 
 " Sit on the floor and watch my bed," Djavid 
 grunted and rolled over. The next minute both 
 of them snored in concert. 
 
CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 A TOOTH FOR A TOOTH 
 
 DOWNSTAIRS all was quiet. In the 
 muddy translucence of the little kerosene 
 lamp the zaptiehs watched drowsily. 
 Ivko stretched his weary frame on a bench near 
 the fire, apparently asleep. The pine-logs had 
 burned to coals. The wind whistled mockingly 
 through the chimney, and little gusts of cold air 
 coursed through the loose windows. Outdoors, a 
 clear silver-gray chill wrapped the bare ground. 
 Boyan leaned back against the wall. His eyes 
 closed wearily, only to open at the least stir in- 
 doors or out. Escape seemed beyond his hope 
 now, if all he had heard of Akiflf Pasha's cruelty 
 was true. Yet he hoped against hope. Surely 
 he could not be denied his chance to die fighting. 
 This drunken rabble, only three of the brutes 
 
 sober Surely there could be a way. And 
 
 yet precious hours seemed to wear on, and no one 
 came, saint or sinner. To-morrow he would be 
 in Akiff Pasha's bottomless jail-pits. He had 
 played a haughty game with tirrie all the way 
 from his craggy cell to Ivko's inn; but the end 
 seemed near. 
 
 ^3 
 
274 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 The shriveled, snively lad had disappeared. 
 Upstairs a window-shutter began flapping. 
 Ivko stirred uneasily, got up and shuffled toward 
 the stairs. A growl from Ahmed stopped him. 
 
 " The noise may disturb the zaptiehs, Effendi," 
 the old man remonstrated, pointing upstairs. 
 
 The zaptieh grunted in assent. The innkeeper 
 stole softly up the stairs. He crept on tiptoe 
 from, room to room, ostensibly hunting the loose 
 shutter. But as each door closed behind him, 
 the key turned in the lock, imprisoning the sleep- 
 ers within. 
 
 " And the windows are all iron-barred," Ivko 
 grinned in toothless vindictiveness. 
 
 He came down to his bench and stretched him- 
 self on his back. Presently he sat up, sniffing; 
 there was a smoky smell of petroleum in the 
 room; the lamp sputtered and burned at the 
 wick. 
 
 " Needs refilling, Effendi," he explained to 
 Ahmed. " That lubber-lad always leaves half his 
 chores undone." 
 
 He carried the lamp to the wood-shed. When 
 he closed the doors only the glowing ashes threw 
 dim, reddish lights over the three faces. The 
 place was appallingly quiet. It made Medhad 
 nervous. He turned his eyes questioningly to 
 the other zaptieh; but Ahmed only stared ahead, 
 his hands resting on his rifle. 
 
 " I wish some of the others " He began, 
 
 looking about the room uneasily. " Oh! " 
 
A TOOTH FOR A TOOTH 275 
 
 Ahmed glanced up and found himself staring 
 into the black nose of a revolver. Medhad sat 
 up, fascinated, stunned by the shining barrel 
 which seemed to tickle his throat. Leaning for- 
 ward in his astonishment, Boyan strained his eyes 
 to catch sight of the two black figures behind the 
 triggers. They stood perfectly immobile. 
 
 " One move, a sound, and you are dead zap- 
 tiehs," Boyan heard, in a voice that made his 
 Tphole being riot within him. " Your rascally 
 friends upstairs are powerless to help you. Every 
 door is locked and the windows iron-latticed. 
 Ivko, take their rifles; then tie and gag them." 
 
 The Turks stood helpless while the host 
 dumped an armful of shavings and straw In the 
 middle of the floor and approached them. The 
 old heart beat rapidly with a new, overmastering 
 passion. 
 
 It was not mere revenge which thrilled the 
 worn-out innkeeper; though — who knows? — per- 
 haps in his mind there flashed the picture of his 
 wife's black hair waving piteously from a Turk's 
 saddle, while he himself looked on in helpless 
 agony, bound to the hitching-post; and perchance 
 he could still hear the heart-rending cries of his 
 three little girls, strapped across another saddle. 
 Memories which had haunted him all his life 
 doubtless came back with fresh vividness as he 
 bent to pick up the Moslems' rifles. 
 
 And yet more than personal vindictiveness 
 glowed in the bloodshot eyes. The weather- 
 
276, PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 beaten, nondescript peasant was for once in his 
 life the messenger of a Balkan Nemesis, A 
 deeper, vaster hatred consumed him. It was not 
 even hatred, but a passion much more elemental — 
 the avenging fury of an agonized people. The 
 toothless mouth almost grinned in its calm Inten- 
 sity, for at last the stammering tongue had caught 
 the long-lost idea which had all his life eluded 
 him. 
 
 ** To-night God is greater than Allah, zaptieh," 
 he hissed. " You have had your turn all my life. 
 This time Ivko is in the saddle." 
 
 Ahmed ground his teeth, but could not shift his 
 eyes from the pitiless revolver. 
 
 "Here, Slavy!" Ivko turned to the boy. 
 " Bring the rags and ropes." 
 
 Quietly and quickly the two worked. Not until 
 the Turks lay on their backs, bound hand and foot 
 and gagged, did the dark figures move their re- 
 volvers. Then with the low cry, " Boyan, you 
 are free ! " Adalena was at his feet, frantically 
 cutting at the ropes about his feet and hands. 
 
 He staggered up, clasping her madly. 
 
 " It is you — ^you I You have saved me I " 
 
 " But not alone," she protested. " Ivan the 
 Huntsman is here. Without him I should have 
 been helpless." 
 
 The two men shook hands in silence. 
 
 " We shall meet again," Ivan said significantly. 
 " But now we must all be off at once." 
 
 " Just one moment, Ivan," old Ivko put in. " I 
 
A TOOTH FOR A TOOTH 277 
 
 went after some lamp-oil for this son of Allah. 
 I must let him have It before I go." 
 
 He carried his can to the pile of shavings and 
 poured the kerosene over the heap and around 
 the floor at the foot of the stairs. 
 
 "Oh, don't— not alive 1" 
 
 Adalena shuddered in protest. But Ivko had 
 already struck the match. 
 
 "Out of here, all of us!" he ordered. "No 
 one under God or Allah will learn of this night's 
 escape. Let it seem that we have all gone down 
 together. Go!" 
 
 The flames leaped riotously from stair to stair 
 and licked their way along the floor of the room 
 toward the zaptiehs. They stirred in terror. 
 The whole place filled with smoke. The five Bul- 
 gars shrank through the kitchen and into the cold 
 winter night. 
 
 " Here, Boyan, put on this coat, and here's 
 your rifle," Ivan the Huntsman said, " I'll take 
 the other, and the good Innkeeper can carry my 
 revolver." 
 
 " But what of him? " Boyan spoke unsteadily. 
 "Where will he go?" 
 
 " I, Master Rebel? " the host asked. " What 
 does It matter where I go or where Slavy goes? 
 We are nothing, we are — ^just little warts. There 
 are thousands of Ivkos and Slavics In Macedonia. 
 But you two — you will be the saving of us, and 
 of Slavy's children and grandchildren." 
 
 The old innkeeper turned to Boyan and, almost 
 
2781 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 shyly, stretched forth his hand. Boyan clasped it 
 warmly. 
 
 " I don't suppose you will have time to remem- 
 ber me after we part, and it is no matter," the 
 old man said in a low voice. " But look here, 
 you snivel-nose," he called to the boy, " look here 
 and don't forget to tell your sons and grandsons 
 that Ivko the innkeeper, with whom you worked 
 at the tavern near Poosty village; Ivko, with no 
 teeth left in his mouth and no brains in his head, 
 shook the Master Rebel's own hand with his dirty 
 paw. The Virgin bless you. Master ! " Then, as 
 if ashamed of his outburst of loquacity, he drew 
 back sheepishly. 
 
 " Now I guess we two will fade away some- 
 how," he concluded. 
 
 " No, Ivko." 
 
 Ivan the Huntsman stepped in. 
 
 " The Seven Well-springs have a home for you 
 and the boy. Come, let us be off. We shall cut 
 cross-country straight for home, but more than 
 three of us must not be together." 
 
 "Listen!" 
 
 The whole inn was ablaze. Tongues of flame 
 shot from the windows. Yells and hurrying feet 
 sounded from the upper floor. Rifle-butts banged 
 on the locked doors and barred windows. Shots 
 added to the chaos of curses and fire. The zap- 
 tiehs' horses in the stable neighed and stamped 
 in their terror. 
 
 " Burn, old match-box ! Burn, curse you I Not 
 
A TOOTH FOR A TOOTH 279 
 
 a soul of them shall ever come out alive ! " Ivko 
 yelled. 
 
 "Herel" Ivan shouted. "I've saddled the 
 horses. Off with us all! " 
 
 Three figures ahorse vanished toward the Go- 
 reno uplands. 
 
 "And we, Adalena — whither?" Boyan hesi- 
 tated a moment, curbing a zaptieh's horse, which 
 pranced with fear. 
 
 "To the mountains," Adalena cried, and 
 spurred Tossun's Arab charger. "There is a 
 chance of making the Vissoky Bridge 'way up in 
 the country before daylight. If we cross it we're 
 safe." 
 
 But the sound of answering volleys from the 
 village brought them to a sudden stop. 
 
 "The garrison at Poosty is roused," Boyan 
 exclaimed. 
 
 " Then to the river directly," Adalena gasped. 
 "It must surely be frozen solid by now; it was 
 ice all over when we came here this morning." 
 
 The horses dashed toward the Bistra; they 
 reached it and raced down the road. The shots 
 from Poosty grew more frequent every minute. 
 But not a sound came from the burning tavern. 
 The fire had lighted the whole country round, 
 however. 
 
 They rode at top speed to reach the next turn 
 in the road. Once out of sight from the village, 
 they slowed down and looked for a likely place 
 to cross. 
 
28o PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 " We must get across," Adalena insisted. 
 " Budno Selo is an hour's ride in front of us, and 
 if the Turkish soldiers there get roused, we'll be 
 between two fires." 
 
 The two dismounted and stepped gingerly on 
 to the ice. Boyan went ahead on the frozen sur- 
 face, stamping lightly to test its strength. It held. 
 Their spirits rose. They came nearer and nearer 
 the middle of the stream. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 A BRIDGE ACROSS 
 
 LOOK out!" 
 Boyan caught the girl's arm and 
 pushed her back. They held their breath, 
 listening. Just in front of them they heard the 
 swish of the current rubbing against the ice- 
 fringe and grinding the chunks broken from the 
 sides. 
 
 " It is not frozen over," Boyan whispered des- 
 perately, " We can not cross here." 
 
 "Can't we jump it?" Adalena strained her 
 eyes to see the width of the opening. 
 
 "Even if we could, our weight would break 
 the ice on the other side. Let's go farther down." 
 
 Half sliding, half running, they sped along the 
 shore. Everywhere the same torrent ground ita 
 ice-victims and mocked at the fugitives. 
 
 " Isn't there a bridge or ford, or something? " 
 Boyan groaned. 
 
 " The bridge is 'way behind us at Yissoky," 
 Adalena answered, " and the Poosty garrison is 
 in between. There is no ford or house or any- 
 thing here, only a fisher-hut, abandoned in win- 
 ter. I saw it this morning." 
 
 38l 
 
282 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 "An old hut?" Boyan cried. "Where?" 
 
 " We can't hide in it. They will be searching 
 it before morning." 
 
 "Where is it?" he repeated. 
 
 She led the way along the first fringe of trees. 
 The loose door, flapping, creaking in the wind, 
 guided them to the place. 
 
 The hut was really a shed, with the boards 
 nailed loosely on the outer wall and part of them 
 hanging down. Boyan felt them carefully. Then 
 he grunted in satisfaction. He gripped a long 
 plank and started ripping it from the wall. The 
 nails squeaked, squealed. 
 
 "Be quiet!" Adalena whispered. The least 
 noise lacerated her tense nerves. 
 
 " Rrrr! " some one yarred from within. In an 
 instant the two were inside. A frightened, dis- 
 heveled head, still half-asleep, showed up from 
 the large box, which had seemed empty when 
 they first looked in. Obviously it did the service 
 of a bed; some of the straw with which it was 
 lined still hung about the sleeper's hair. 
 
 " Keep quiet I " Boyan began. 
 
 But the disturbed fisherman was in no mood 
 for silence. 
 
 " What are you doing here, tearing my hut to 
 pieces?" he shouted, starting to leap out of the 
 box. 
 
 " Not a sound, or I'll — ^kill you ! " Boyan 
 hissed. 
 
 "Kill? Who are you, anyway? Hoi Hey! 
 
A BRIDGE ACROSS 283 
 
 robbers I " he yelled at he top of his voice, and 
 jumped at Boyan. 
 
 Something snapped within the hermit. He 
 felt something hard and heavy in his hand; he 
 heard the fisherman groan and topple back into 
 the box. 
 
 Adalena clutched his elbow. 
 
 " Come, don't look at him : you've done what 
 you've done. Let us be off, Boyan! " He threw 
 the fisherman's blanket over the body, and the 
 two ran out of the hut. 
 
 He pulled hard at the sgueaking plank; at last 
 it flopped noisily to the ground, dragging him 
 with it. 
 
 " Quick! " he said, scrambling up. " Help me 
 carry this over." 
 
 Adalena caught the idea and sprang to his 
 assistance. They carried their improvised bridge 
 as near the edge of the ice as they dared, and 
 laid it down with one edge projecting over the 
 water. 
 
 " Push ! " Boyan ordered breathlessly. 
 
 Slowly they shoved it forward, until they felt 
 it touch the ice on the other side. Still another 
 foot, and then Boyan crawled along to discover 
 how far it reached over their own side. There 
 was not an arm's length to spare. His fingers 
 at the edge could feel the water below the board, 
 
 " Step lightly and keep your head cool," he 
 said hoarsely. " I think it will hold." 
 
 She drew back, clutching his arm. 
 
284 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 " Must I go first? " she pleaded. " Then what 
 if it won't hold you?" 
 
 " You'll be safe anyway — Go 1 " he said 
 harshly. 
 
 " Oh! " she drew away in terror. He caught 
 her fiercely in his arms; kissed her once, and 
 then again, hotly, 
 
 " Adalena, for God's sake, go I " 
 
 A whirl at their feet startled them. 
 
 " Boyan, it's gone ! " 
 
 He stared, stupefied, unbelieving. They heard 
 the board breaking the ice as it swept down the 
 current. 
 
 " The ice-chunks must have piled up and swept 
 it away," he groaned. " We shall have to get 
 another," 
 
 They dashed up the bank in reckless haste. A 
 rifle cracked somewhere; then a scattered volley. 
 
 " They are beginning a search," Boyan 
 groaned. 
 
 It was hard to find another board that would 
 come off, though they searched all four walls. 
 
 "Why not try the door?" the girl suggested, 
 
 " Too short and heavy," replied Boyan. " Ah, 
 here at last! " 
 
 He gave a violent jerk and ripped a plank 
 from the hut-wall, but it fell splintered in the 
 middle. Boyan swore madly. 
 
 " No," she cried, " this is all right. Use the 
 shorter piece for a lever and pry off the one 
 below." 
 
A BRIDGE ACROSS 285 
 
 He snatched it up, working feverishly now. 
 Slowly the plank loosened, it was longer and 
 more securely nailed, but finally it yielded. Again 
 they ran out upon the ice. The frail bridge was 
 shoved forward; it touched; rested on the other 
 side. 
 
 " Now," he begged. 
 
 She went forward without a word. Her foot 
 on the edge, she turned just an instant and 
 touched his hand with her finger-tips. Then 
 slowly, slowly, she stepped over the current. The 
 ice-fragments piled up; they touched her feet as 
 she walked on, inch by inch, her hands out- 
 stretched to preserve her balance, 
 
 " Hold the board, I'm across," she called, her 
 voice so weak she doubted if he could hear. She 
 crouched, then stretched herself prone on the ice, 
 clinging to the end of the plank. 
 
 " Lift it, Boyan. Lift it — let the ice away.' 
 
 There was no answer, but she felt the board 
 move. She lifted her end, and the ice-jam swept 
 with the current. They adjusted the board again. 
 
 " Come," she called to him, and strained to 
 see him start. She could not move, she still lay 
 prone on the ice, face downward, clutching the 
 board convulsively. She saw him coming nearer, 
 nearer, halfway, two-thirds over. She was 
 breathing again. Then directly before her she 
 heard the ice giving way, — a steady, certain 
 cracking. The board trembled, shook: the ice had 
 opened on the other side. 
 
2 85 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 " Boyan! " she shrieked in terror. 
 
 The plank whirled, was almost wrenched from 
 her grasp; she jerked back, her fingers madly- 
 clutching her end of the perilous bridge. But 
 with one last lunge, Boyan leaped and rolled over 
 and over to safety. 
 
 She crept to him, and they climbed up the 
 snowy bank. Trembling, panting, hand in hand, 
 they stood there, listening. The burning inn was 
 still very near; but between them and the Poosty 
 garrison the current of the Bistra River sang a 
 song of promise, of freedom. 
 
 The sun was high overhead, when Costi the 
 fisherman groaned and stirred stiffly. Every 
 limb in his body ached, a dull, stony-frozen ache. 
 Something burned in his eyes; he opened them^ 
 but the blinding sunshine made him blink and 
 turn aside. Slowly, as from afar, the idea came 
 to him that he was still alive. A chaos of mem- 
 ories buzzed at the outskirts of his consciousness; 
 the sunlight streaming through the ripped-up wall 
 suggested a horrid dream which persistently 
 eluded him. He moved as if to rise: the loose 
 door of the hut squeaked noisily at the same in- 
 stant as it caught the force of a sudden gust of 
 wind. 
 
 In a twinkle Costi remembered It all. 
 
 "The rascals must have tried to brain me!" 
 He cursed loudly, touching the bump In his head, 
 the blood-clotted hair. " Why were they ripping 
 off my planks?" Still dizzy, he moved slowly 
 
A BRIDGE ACROSS 287 
 
 about, went out, and looked up and down the 
 river. The tracks of his unwelcome guests were 
 still visible on the snow. 
 
 " I can't see what in the name of Saint 
 
 George ^" he speculated, but his mind moved 
 
 slowly. By the middle of the morning it had 
 reached one point. They must have been fugi- 
 tives: he saw their tracks on both sides of the 
 river. They — they had used his boards to get 
 across I 
 
 The fisherman's mind moved slowly, but it was 
 a sly, cunning mind. Some one was pursuing 
 those two; some one would be glad to hear his 
 story, and pay for it perhaps. 
 
 Costi set out for the konak of Poosty to find 
 that some one. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 THE FIRE WITHIN 
 
 't^TT^HERE, there Is Ivan's hut, to the left of 
 
 I you, against that rock, Boyan. Don't 
 
 you see it?" Adalena cried joyously, 
 
 battling her way through the tossing hemlock 
 
 branches. 
 
 " That there?" Boyan studied the tiny hut du- 
 biously as it quivered with the furious cadences of 
 the wind. Pinned as it was against the solid rock, 
 it still shook uncertainly every time the blast 
 caught it on the corner. Around it the huge pines 
 swayed and bent in low, moaning protest at the 
 onrush of the wind, and the spruce-trees waved a 
 thousand arms in a thousand frenzied dances to 
 the shrill piping of the gale. 
 
 Boyan and Adalena stepped cautiously up to 
 the shed and pushed open the heavy-timbered 
 door. It swung back noisily, and the eager wind, 
 rushing past and around them, whirled and shook 
 and whistled until everything in the little room 
 moaned and creaked forbiddingly. Adalena drew 
 back. 
 
 " Pooh 1 " she laughed at herself. " Of course 
 it is empty. Close the door, quick." 
 
THE FIRE WITHIN 289 
 
 But a second wild gust whizzed past and blew 
 the water-crock down at her feet. Boyan threw 
 his weight against the door, pushed it shut, and 
 dropped the latch. The bolt was missing from 
 its socket. 
 
 " No matter," he said. " Turks will not ven- 
 ture up here to-night." 
 
 Adalena picked up the pieces of the crock. 
 
 " A bad omen, this," she laughed. " A crock- 
 ful of ill-fortune will run my way. Do you be- 
 lieve in omens?" 
 
 "I did the night at Ivko's inn," he replied, 
 "when the loose window-shutter began flapping. 
 I knew then I'd have visitors. And what visitors, 
 Adalena mine 1 " 
 
 He struck a light and surveyed the interior. 
 " Ivan's lair is as bare as mine," he laughed, " and 
 less holy." He pointed to a pack of cards which 
 the wind had scattered over the floor. 
 
 The win'dblast shook the huntsman's cabin as 
 he spoke, rattling the one small window and whip- 
 ping cold swishes of air under the door. 
 
 " The cave would be a safer place on a night 
 like this," Boyan remarked, " but Murad's blood- 
 hounds know the scent to the cave." 
 
 "This will be safe enough for us," Adalena 
 spoke from the dark corner where the hut rested 
 against the rock. " Safe enough, and more hos- 
 pitable than we had expected, Boyan!" she ex- 
 claimed joUily. 
 
 " Never mind that log, — here is a pile of dry 
 
290 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 charcoal. And in this stone pocket a feast is 
 waiting for you and mc, bless the Huntsman's 
 heart!" 
 
 Coffee bubbled over the hot, sputtering char- 
 coals, and Boyan, stretching himself on the black 
 bearskin beside the three-legged brazier, watched 
 the girl slice off wide slabs from the hard, black 
 bread and long cuts of dried pastartna-mezt. 
 Dried apples, too, and apricots, a jar of honey, — 
 she took them out one after another from the 
 stone-shelf pantry, and last of all a goodly jug. 
 But this she put back. 
 
 "We mustn't impose too much on Ivan's hos- 
 pitality," she laughed. 
 
 A carefree spirit of joyous abandon seemed 
 ^suddenly to possess her ; it breathed in every ges- 
 ture; she danced and twittered about, glad to be 
 alive. 
 
 " For once she has forgotten Macedonia," 
 Boyan thrilled as he watched her move about. 
 How quick and strong she was now, — almost a 
 different person from the pale, helpless girl he 
 had tended in his cave. Manly-vigorous, buoyant 
 with unspent strength, he had wondered at her 
 endurance while they plowed their way through 
 snow-drifts and thickets. 
 
 Since they crossed the Bistra River, her every 
 word had been about the Cause, and he had not 
 dared speak of love. In the white solitudes of 
 the mountain-land, she had tramped beside him, 
 and the countless multitudes of Macedonia had 
 
THE FIRE WITHIN 291 
 
 paced between the two; and all their talk had 
 been of bullets and rifles and gold coins, districts 
 and district leaders. She spoke of gunpowder, of 
 dynamite, — and the snow that shook from the 
 hemlock branches blushed as It caressed her 
 cheek, and her eyes burned the sunglow to ashes. 
 Lucid, vibrant as a clear bell, with the one idea 
 that permeated her whole being, hard and unfal- 
 tering — ^yet soft, gentle too, womanly tender and 
 delicate, choosing time and place to beg for assist- 
 ance, luringly independent, and warm, warm be- 
 neath the cold warrior-armor of her ! God, what 
 a woman to live for, to fight with, to love I 
 
 "Oh, who will bear it, Velkd, 
 Your long, slender flintlock, 
 Chieftian bold. 
 
 Lord of the Highlands, valiant Velko, warrior bold! 
 Oh, who will ride it, Velko, 
 Your wind-racing stallion , i ." 
 
 she sang in the back of the hut, but the song was 
 cut short by the sizzle of the charcoals as the 
 coffee boiled over. Boyan sprang to snatch it 
 from the fire. 
 
 "Supper is ready," she said; then with a 
 chuckle in her voice : " What was your Holi- 
 ness dreaming about?" 
 
 She brought the bread and pastarma-meat In 
 a wooden bowl over by the brazier and poured 
 out the coffee. 
 
 "Dreaming?" he spoke feelingly. "I was 
 dreaming of my dreams, Ada." 
 
292 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 She tried to laugh away his gravity. 
 
 " Dreaming of your dreams ! " she exclaimed. 
 ** That shows they will come true — a very good 
 omen, if the dream itself be a good one." 
 
 " This one was — but I don't know what to 
 make of it." 
 
 " I wish I could interpret it' for you," she 
 said; then, laughing, busied herself with the im- 
 provised meal. 
 
 " But I never dream, I know nothing about 
 dreams. Here, try this pastarma, Comrade, it 
 is really better fare than one has a right to ex- 
 pect finding in this God-forsaken Pirin wilder- 
 ness." 
 
 The steaming coffee warmed and freshened 
 the taste of the really delicious dried goat-flesh 
 and venison. They dipped the hard black bread 
 in their cups to soften it; but the fruit was old 
 and tough as leather. 
 
 " Ivan must keep these apricots for ruminat- 
 ing purposes," Adalena joked. " I know, — fill 
 this kettle full of snow. With the honey in place 
 of sugar, I'll be serving you in half an hour the 
 finest apricot-preserves you ever tasted." 
 
 They were tough preserves, but her enthusiasm 
 over the Huntsman's fare was contagious. Boy- 
 an ate hungrily but silently, though she seemed 
 anxious to maintain a spirt of jolly comradeship 
 between them, a man-to-man attitude. She 
 laughed, her eyes danced; she refused to be 
 serious. 
 
THE FIRE WITHIN 293 
 
 " Don't you wish Selim Bey were here, Bash- 
 komitaji? " she jested, " How we could hang 
 him, boots-up on that rafter, and shake out all 
 his dirty medjidiehs for tooth-money. I'd make 
 him exercise his jaws on Ivan's apricots, eh, 
 Boyan?" 
 
 His laugh was stinted and uncertain. 
 
 " What is the matter with you, Mister Her- 
 mit? " she scolded him. " To look at your fore- 
 head, one would think you were still in Ivko's 
 tavern, instead of here, seven snow-clad peaks 
 and seven snow-buried valleys away from friend 
 or foe. 
 
 " Come now, this is our night of rest and jol- 
 lity. To-morrow you will be on the march once 
 more, to reach the Struma water sleeve and re- 
 cover the gold coins. You know I told you that 
 you must go after the gold instead of Ivan, for 
 Vasko knows somehow that Ivan hid it in the 
 vicinity of the * Turk's Head ' cliff and his men 
 will be watching for him and will shadow him 
 if he appears in those parts. You must go your- 
 self, and after Ivan has made certain that your 
 cave is unoccupied and safe, he will come here 
 for me. So this is pur one jolly evening to- 
 gether." 
 
 His eyes smiled at her, but his lips were still 
 serious. 
 
 " Speak, laugh I " she teased. " Or do you 
 miss your vespers? Wouldn't I do for an icon? 
 What do you think?" 
 
294 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 She assumed a benignant, eyes-turned-up-to- 
 heaven attitude, her hands folded piously, but 
 the corners of her mouth twitched and her flut- 
 tering eye-lashes mocked his melancholy. 
 
 " They'll make a female saint of me, see If 
 they don't, when I've been dead a thousand 
 months I Saint Adeline," she mock-meditated, 
 "wouldn't It look fine In the calendar? Some 
 jealous priest will be sure to shove my name-day 
 into the middle of March. And peasants will 
 make pilgrimages to your cave, and just think 
 of the holy stories they'll be telling about you 
 and me, Boyan I ' When Saint Adeline In sore 
 tribulation reached the humble cave of the Holy 
 Man of VIshny — that would make a capital 
 name for you — she was weary and heavy-laden 
 with grief and much sadness; and full tenderly 
 did the Holy Man tend and solace the saintly 
 Saint Adeline in her grief-laden sorrow! ' " 
 
 But he snatched at her wrists and clasped them 
 almost roughly, drawing her to him: 
 
 " You mocking witch, you — you Impossible — 
 darling ! " he cried at her. " Why do you make 
 a sport of what is holy?" 
 
 She opened her mouth to answer, but he shook 
 her violently. 
 
 "No more jesting; you know I do not mean 
 saints, male or female : something holy, sacred to 
 me, something which has burned within me day 
 and night since that morning; — something which 
 was sacred to you also, once, — too long ago! " 
 
THE FIRE WITHIN 295 
 
 " Boyan, don't I " She trembled and tried 
 vainly to release her wrists. 
 
 " Something which has consumed my life and 
 changed me entire, made the eremite once more 
 a warrior, for your sake " 
 
 " Stop, Boyan, — stop," she pleaded. " I don't 
 want that. Not for my sake, Boyan; not for njy 
 sake merely 1 " 
 
 " Yes, for your sake, Ada. Do I love Mace- 
 donia less because it is your Macedonia? In 
 Macedonia I see you, in fighting for Macedonia 
 I'll fight for you — and I'll fight well, Adalena. 
 But look at me at least once, at me, Boyan, not 
 at your new convert to the Cause." 
 
 Still he held her wrists, his eyes burning into 
 her own, but she was silent as death, only her 
 arms were rigid and held him off. 
 
 " Am I just one more rifle to you, just one 
 more man to count on — ^just one more? I am 
 not. I will not be. My every thought is a dream 
 of you." 
 
 " Dream of Macedonia first," she cried. 
 
 " Of you first, Ada. And to you also Mace- 
 donia shall be second, is second, to me. I'll make 
 it second to me 1 I will. You have torn my soul 
 to shreds, you have robbed me of my peace : you 
 
 must give me instead " he broke off. " Why 
 
 did you save me then, if I was second to Mace- 
 donia in your heart? Why did you risk your life 
 and Ivan's, when Macedonia needed you both, in 
 order to save me, a chattering ascetic, as you 
 
296 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 dubbed me? Why did you risk precipitating' a 
 massacre by burning a troop of Turks alive, and 
 allow me to brain an innocent fisherman for a 
 half-rotten pine-board, just to save an unwilling 
 convert to your cause, a masquerading komitaji? 
 Why— tell me?" 
 
 " You had given yourself to the Turks in my 
 stead," the girl recited uncertainly, still holding 
 him off. 
 
 " Was that all? " He gazed keenly at her pale 
 face. " Was that all, Adalena ? " 
 
 She avoided his gaze obstinately and stared into 
 the brazier. 
 
 " Yes — I'm sure — I — that is, unless maybe it 
 was the hope that perhaps — some day — for 
 Macedonia's sake " 
 
 Suddenly he released her wrists and clasped 
 her face between his hands. 
 
 " It is a lie, if you say it is all. I know it is 
 a lie. Tell me the rest, Adalena; tell me again 
 what you told me that night by the fire-glow. Tell 
 me you love me ! " 
 
 " Oh, leave me alone. Please, Boyan, 
 I'eave " 
 
 " I will not, dearest. Say you love me." 
 
 "I — I do; you know I love you, Boyan," she 
 whispered faintly. " But — Macedonia " 
 
 " No ' buts,' " he whispered fiercely. " I have 
 worshipped Causes all my life. You are the first' 
 living happiness I have ever known. You must 
 be, you shall be, you ace my own, only mine I 
 
THE FIRE WITHIN 297 
 
 Say you love me first, say it, and your Mace- 
 donia will be mine. But say it, say it 1 Kiss me 
 back, if you do, Adalena ! " 
 
 He held her close, close, until her heart trem- 
 bled, breathless, within her. She bit her lips 
 tightly, gritted her teeth, her face rigid, r'esistant. 
 But his kisses burned like melting fire on her 
 eyes and cheek and neck; her forbidding lips trem- 
 bled wistfully, eagerly, thirstily . . . 
 
 " Boyan 1 " she murmured, and her lips met 
 his. 
 
CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 A VULTURE SWOOPS 
 
 THE single small window of the Huntsman's 
 cabin glowed with a dim fed translucence. 
 A thick curtain might have blinded this 
 tell-tale eye ; but, secure in the remoteness of the 
 hut and the wildness of the night, neither Adalena 
 nor Boyan had thought of drawing that curtain. 
 They had tramped for days over tortuous moun- 
 tain trails, with scanty food and uncertain rest, 
 and now, in the cozy warmth of the charcoal 
 brazier, they slept soundly. 
 
 Outside the wind blew with unabated fury; it 
 broke the dry spruce twigs and swept them up in 
 dirty drifts over the white, hard-crusted snow. 
 The pale sheen of a moon dying behind the scur- 
 rying clouds added a weird, uncanny touch to the 
 highland wilderness. 
 
 A louder footfall might have creaked over the 
 snow without wakening the sleepers. Vasko's 
 was a footpad-step, and he started in surprise aS 
 he came around the corner of the cabin and saw 
 through the branches the feckless glow of the 
 window-pane. His crunching step softened, he 
 
 298 
 
A VULTURE SWOOPS 299 
 
 glided cautiously over the crusty snow, and drew 
 his head to a level with the window. If Ivan 
 were alone, and asleep, — ^he peered more closely 
 as he caught sight of the two forms prostrate on 
 the floor. The brazier-coals, dimly glowing at 
 their feet, did not allow a clear view of their 
 faces. Vasko wondered who Ivan's guest might 
 be, when the nearer of the two sleepers turned 
 over, and in the gleam of a charcoal that crum- 
 bled to pieces at that moment, the man at the 
 window saw her long braids of hair. Vasko 
 knew of only one woman who could enjoy the 
 hospitality of the unromantic Huntsman. But 
 Adalena's ubiquity shocked him. 
 
 " Everywhere you are in my way," he mut- 
 tered angrily. " Bah," he scoffed, " one watch- 
 ful puppy is a match for twenty sleeping hounds," 
 and his eyes narrowed with cunning as he watched 
 their sound sleep. 
 
 Around his shoulder, Vasko always carried a 
 thin but very stout hempen rope. Ropes had 
 served him in good stead more than once, when 
 a dizzy cliff yawned before him and the patter 
 of pursuing Turkish horsemen reached his ears. 
 The rope would do for the Huntsman; his guest 
 could be secured with a tough cord. 
 
 He lifted the latch gingerly and held the door 
 while he pushed It open. Tiptoeing to what he 
 thought was the Huntsman, he slipped one end 
 of the rope beneath his ankles, knotted It loosely 
 enough not to press, and yet so tight that It could 
 
300 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 not slip off. Leaving plenty of length, he cut off 
 the rest of the rope and crept to the sleeper's 
 head. 
 
 The strange face gave him a shock; he drew 
 back for a moment. But this was no time for un- 
 certainty; he would have enough time to identify 
 the stranger and his relation to Adalena after he 
 had bound him. The hands were more difficult 
 to deal with, but Vasko had bound hands before, 
 and Boyan only sighed, turned over, and fell into 
 a deeper slumber. 
 
 The last part was hardest of all. Lifting 
 Boyan bodily, Vasko tucked a slip-noose under- 
 neath his armpits and threw the opposite end of 
 the rope over the short cross-beam near one of 
 the logs that supported the rafters. A board 
 creaked under his foot; he stepped aside too 
 guickly; his sandal landed on the wooden bowl, 
 slipped; the bowl rolled away noisily. 
 
 "What!" 
 
 The brigand turned with a start. Adalena was 
 sitting up, blinking at him. Vasko rushed at her 
 and pressed the cold revolver-barrel to her mouth. 
 
 "Sst!" he hissed, "not one syllable. Hands 
 up." 
 
 The hollow end of a gun does not conduce to 
 deliberation. Adalena, dazed, still half-asleep, 
 obeyed mechanically. She felt the grip of a 
 strong hand on her right wrist, the rough, ticklish 
 touch of hemp. He would have bound her hand 
 and foot without her making a sound, had he not 
 
A VULTURE SWOOPS 301 
 
 turned against the light and revealed his face. 
 
 "It's you?" she gasped; then, "Boyanl 
 Boyan!" she screamed at the top of her voice. 
 " No, you will not shoot," she cried at Vasko. 
 " Boyan, wake up I Boyan! " She struggled 
 madly to free herself, but the brigand pressed 
 her down to the floor. The hemp cord cut into 
 her flesh like rusty files ; a sudden pull backwards 
 left her helpless, unable to move her hands. He 
 felt for some rag to gag her, but she bit and 
 tore like a tigress at bay. 
 
 "Boyan!" He woke at last with a start, but 
 Vasko caught the end of the rope that hung over 
 the rafter and jerked him off the floor. Boyan 
 dangled helplessly against the log. 
 
 " Vasko I " Adalena cried. " What do you 
 want?" 
 
 "A very simple thing, Adalena Andreyeva," 
 he answered with a grim laugh. " But first, who 
 is this comrade of yours?" 
 
 " An honest man who does not make the liber- 
 ation of Macedonia a matter of trafl5c." 
 
 " You are giving him a pretty good recommen- 
 dation, Dulgokossa; but a little matter of traffic 
 he can not afford to scorn just at present." 
 
 He stirred up the brazier fire until the char- 
 coals burned brightly, piled more charcoal on top, 
 then whipped out his revolver and caressed the 
 shining barrel. 
 
 " Now then, Mr. Honest Man, let me have a 
 better look at you. Whatever your business may 
 
302 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 be outside this hut, your business here, waiting 
 for Ivan the Huntsman, can only be the same as 
 his. Make it my business also, and in a hurry." 
 
 "What are you talking about?" Boyan par- 
 ried. " What can a Bulgar possibly want of 
 me?" 
 
 " The directions to the precise spot near the 
 'Turk's Head' cliff where one thousand pounds 
 in gold are huddling together this cold night, Mr. 
 Honest Man." 
 
 " But, Vasko," Adalena interrupted, " that 
 money is already pledged to the Cause. If we 
 let you use it now, bit by bit, of what use was 
 all our risk?" 
 
 *' Mademoiselle," Vasko made a mock-bow, 
 "your type of revolutionaries do enjoy discus- 
 sions. Just at present I am not at all interested 
 to learn which is the best and quickest way to 
 liberate Macedonia. All I want to know is the 
 exact location of that money." 
 
 " You will not get that information," Boyan 
 spoke calmly. " In the second place because I 
 shall not tell you, and in the first place because 
 my comrade here does not know anything about 
 it." 
 
 Adalena wondered at the convincing simplicity 
 of his manner. Buf Vasko was no sixty-year-old 
 Murad Pasha. He sneered at the hemp-bound 
 man. 
 
 " You talk as though you held this shining 
 house-for-six instead of me. In the second place. 
 
A VULTURE SWOOPS 303 
 
 you won't tell, and in the first place, she doesn't 
 know? Well, Mr. Honest, the first I don't be- 
 lieve, and the second I'll find out.'' He tickled 
 Boyan's nose with the cold barrel of death. 
 
 " Oh, you are not going to shoot," Boyan 
 laughed. 
 
 " I'm not," Vasko snarled. " But I know va- 
 rious ways of singeing an obstinate man." 
 
 He put the revolver in his belt, and went over 
 to the brazier. The pile of fresh charcoal had 
 just caught. The brigand shoved the red-hot 
 mass under Boyan's feet. 
 
 " Now you will talk," he sneered savagely. 
 
 A shiver went through the bound man's frame, 
 wracking every fiber; the heat was insufferable. 
 It penetrated through his sandaled feet; it per- 
 meated skin and flesh and bone-marrow. The 
 charcoal fumes stupefied him; his eyes began to 
 blink, to close. 
 
 "Vasko, are you a Turk? " Adalena writhed 
 to free herself from the cords. " Don't burn him 
 alive, Vasko ; he has had nothing to do with that 
 money, he has never touched it." 
 
 Vasko whirled on her: 
 
 " Then you tell me," he cried. 
 
 " But I don't know just where it is," she par- 
 ried. 
 
 " Not exactly, perhaps, but you know how to 
 get there. Look here, Adalena Andreyeva, your 
 father was against me for twenty years, and 
 called me a brigand, when I should have been his 
 
304 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 chief. He distrusted me, he checked me at every 
 turn ; but I've drunk water from hoof-prints long 
 enough. It is I who have you checked now, and 
 you shall answer for him." 
 
 The odor from the singeing leather sickened 
 the girl; she could see Boyan's defiant effort for 
 control. 
 
 " Is your jaw thawed out by this time, Mr. 
 Honest?" Vasko sang out to him. 
 
 " I'm afire I " the man groaned. 
 
 "Oh, no, you aren't; I'll see to that. But 
 you'll be the next thing to it for an hour, until 
 your tongue begins to blister. Where is that 
 money hidden?" 
 
 " Move this fire away and I'll talk." 
 
 Adalena shuddered at the words, gasped. She 
 dared not look at him. Could he betray — and 
 yet the spectacle of his agony tortured her until 
 she forgot her own pain. But how could he give 
 in so readily? She looked at him: a most reas- 
 suring smile flashed for a second in his eyes as 
 they met hers. She waited, breathless. 
 
 " Move this fire away, I tell you, and let me 
 down, and I shall talk," Boyan repeated. 
 
 Vasko shoved the brazier aside and loosened 
 the rope. Boyan took a deep breath and sighed 
 in relief. 
 
 " It Is " — Adalena trembled — " where you 
 couldn't find it in a year of Sundays," Boyan 
 finished. 
 
 " How far from the 'Turk's Head' cliff?" 
 
A VULTURE SWOOPS 305 
 
 " Less than a week's journey." 
 
 "Where, you 'honest' rascal, — exactly 
 where?" 
 
 " Gently, gently, brigand. What will you do 
 if I don't tell you?" 
 
 " Toast both of you alive, one after the other." 
 
 " And kill us if I do tell you. So there's poor 
 choice as far as that goes." 
 
 " Leave off your philosophizing and speak up, 
 or I'll lose my patience with both of you." 
 
 " Oh, you are wasting your time with her," 
 Boyan declared. " But I shall tell you where the 
 money is, the exact place, — on one condition." 
 
 " It is ? " Vasko drew closer. 
 
 " That you first set my comrade free." 
 
 " Boyan I " Adalena gasped, but he paid no 
 attention to her. 
 
 " Bring her here to me ; give me ten minutes 
 of undisturbed conversation with her, — fifteen 
 minutes. Then let her leave the hut, well pro- 
 vided with food, while you stay with me. Ten 
 hours from the time she crosses the threshold, 
 you will have your secret, and my life." 
 
 Vasko laughed in derision. 
 
 " Give Adalena Andreyeva a ten hours' start I 
 You poor fool! You think I'm as credulous as 
 all that? By the time I've succeeded in opening 
 your jaw, she'll have got the money herself." 
 
 Adalena trembled like a leaf; her tongue 
 seemed tied, she could not utter a word. She 
 felt confusedly that some gigantic scheme lurked 
 
3o6 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 behind Boyan's words, but the words themselves, 
 the utter self-extinction of him, melted her whole 
 being to tears of love and admiration. Why was 
 he so anxious to convince Vasko that she knew 
 nothing about the money? Once more she heard 
 him, in tones of clearest simplicity: 
 
 " I've told you she knows nothing about the 
 matter. You might torture her and she might 
 give you some directions, wrong ones, to be rid 
 of you, — but you simply can not learn the truth 
 from her. So set her free." 
 
 " And she will bring a pack of your .wolfish 
 comrades here before dawn," Vasko protested. 
 
 *' Don't talk drivel. This hut is a whole day's 
 journey from a living soul in weather like this." 
 
 Vasko laughed out once more. 
 
 " You do think me a fool, don't you, Mr. Hon- 
 est? She is the only lever I can use to pry your 
 mouth open. Oh, I see all right : I'm an old dog, 
 but my eyes can tell a lover's face when they see 
 one. How am I to know you'll give me the 
 right directions after she Is once safe?" 
 
 " You can take me with you, bound and gagged. 
 One can go to the spot from this hut without 
 crossing a village or passing In sight of a house." 
 
 " And even If I do take you with me, how do 
 I know that you will not lead me into a trap? 
 Do you think I'd trust you that far?" 
 
 Boyan smiled defiantly. 
 
 " You don't have to. Those are my condi- 
 tions." 
 
A VULTURE SWOOPS 307 
 
 Vasko considered. Time was pressing; any 
 moment might bring Ivan the Huntsman in, and 
 change the odds against him. 
 
 *' Will you tell Adalena Andreyeva of the hid- 
 ing place if I free her?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 Again Vasko considered. 
 
 *' You must do it and do it soon," Boyan urged 
 him, " for her hands are blue with your hemp 
 cords. Otherwise, go as far as you like with me, 
 you'll learn nothing." And he closed like a clam. 
 
 "Well," Vasko concluded, "all right. I can 
 always kill you if you lie to me." 
 
 He raised the girl to her feet. A girl she was, 
 slender, ashy-white in the charcoal-glow which 
 played darkly about her figure. She rushed to- 
 wards him, but stopped half-way, mutely appeal- 
 ing. In her most passionate words about Mace- 
 donia, Boyan had never seen that look in her eyes. 
 It smote him to the heart, and his face blazed 
 with the pent-up fires of thwarted love and hate. 
 But Vasko looked on, half-amused, half-impa- 
 tient, and Boyan banished all emotion from his 
 face. 
 
 "Unbind her," he said dryly. 
 
 The brigand did not move. 
 
 "Are you afraid of a girl? Forgive me, 
 Ada!" 
 
 Vasko spat contemptuously and set her free. 
 
 " Boyan ! " she threw her arms about him, her 
 lips murmuring passionate words of love and 
 
3o8 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 death and agony. Boyan's whole being trembled 
 with the maddening sense ot baffled intensity; his 
 muscles were tense ; his breathing quick and sharp, 
 as his body strained against the hempen rope that 
 pinned him to the log. 
 
 " Ada moya," he whispered as in a delirium, 
 and a new light shone in his face. " I give you 
 freedom. For Macedonia's sake, Ada." 
 
 ** I love you, you, you, my brave lad I " she 
 almost wailed. " I know you will lead him 
 astray," she whispered. 
 
 "No whispering," Vasko cried, and drew 
 closer. 
 
 " The money, Ada? He will not get it. Near 
 the ' Turk's Head ' cliff " 
 
 "Sst/" Vasko hissed. But Boyan ignored him 
 and went on, in low undertones. 
 
 " Look out, Ada. Not so close. It — burns," 
 he almost breathed in her ear. 
 
 Vasko, suspicious, came nearer and nearer, 
 eager not to lose a word of the conversation. The 
 two were absorbed, in each other, apparently ob- 
 livious of his presence. 
 
 Adalena felt Boyan's knees move every mo- 
 ment or two. The smell of charcoal-singed san- 
 dals was now mixed with a new odor — the odor 
 of burning rope. 
 
 " The ankle," Boyan breathed in her ear. 
 
 In an instant she knew his meaning. She dared 
 not look at his foot, where the hemp rope, over- 
 heated, burned slowly; but she almost felt the 
 
A VULTURE SWOOPS 309 
 
 heat eat its way through his bonds. Free- 
 dom drew closer and closer, — and closer crept 
 Vasko 
 
 "Near the 'Turk's Head,' Ada, the Struma 
 River " 
 
 Suddenly Boyan's body heaved mightily; his 
 straining calf-muscles felt all bonds torn ; his right 
 sandaled foot shot at Vasko's stomach like a bat- 
 tering-ram. Vasko's legs slipped from under 
 him, his pistol flew across the hut, he lunged, 
 tripped, grabbed at something. 
 
 " Quick, Ada," Boyan shouted. " Quick, cut 
 the ropes ! " 
 
 Adalena looked about feverishly. Across 
 Vasko's prostrate form, by the stone shelf, she 
 saw the knife where she had left it in preparing 
 supper. She dashed for it. But the brigand, 
 stunned momentarily, had recovered his presence 
 of mind, and barred her way. 
 
 " Not so easily won, children I " 
 
 He grabbed the girl's wrist and rushed across 
 the room for his revolver. Then catching up a 
 blanket, he wrapped it tightly around her, picked 
 her up in his arms, and threw open the door. 
 
 " You'll not be the first of your breed to hang," 
 he called back to Boyan. " When Ivan finds you, 
 Mr. Honest, tell him I'm trying to see if Ada- 
 lena is worth one thousand pounds in gold to the 
 Cause. Ten days I'll wait for the ransom. The 
 Huntsman knows my haunts." 
 
 The door swung to, and latched. 
 
3IO PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 "Tell him, Ada, tell him," Boyan's voice 
 reached her ears, as the door banged shut. 
 
 "Tell him, tell him," the wind caught it up 
 and tossed it from hemlock to hemlock. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 BRIGANDAGE AND REVOLUTION 
 
 WAS it the bright flame on her face or the 
 hard, cold stones beneath her that 
 brought Adalena to herself? She lay 
 very still, trying to figure it out. A rough stone 
 ceiling claimed her vision overhead; she tried to 
 turn on her side and look toward the fire, but 
 tight cords bruised her wrists and ankles as she 
 moved. Like a flash, the night came back to her. 
 She could recall everything up to the point when 
 the door banged shut on him, and the wild wind 
 moaned out to her in Boyan's tones : 
 
 " Tell him, Ada. Tell him." 
 
 And now? She turned her head cautiously. 
 A pile of blankets and dried balsam boughs lay 
 heaped in a corner; beyond them a ragged icon 
 dangled disconsolately by one corner over a small 
 shelf holding a burned candle. Adalena sat up 
 in amazement. 
 
 *' Boyan I " she exclaimed. 
 
 The fire crackled briskly between her and the 
 cave-entrance, and a bulky figure nodded beside 
 it. At her cry, Vasko half rose, stretched him- 
 self, and yawned drowsily. 
 
 3" 
 
31^ PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 " Not Boyan," he sneered. " But I'm glad you 
 have come to." 
 
 He stepped to the pile of dried balsam and 
 tossed an armful on the fire. The flame bit greed- 
 ily through the fragrant twigs ; it must have been 
 such a flame that had brought the girl back to 
 waking realities. But how long it had been since 
 she heard Boyan's last call, and how had they 
 come to the cave? 
 
 By the light beyond the fire, she imagined it 
 must be early morning. Whatever Vasko's inten- 
 tions toward her were, she must find them out at 
 once. She felt weak, ill, and strangely unnerved. 
 It taxed her strength to rise to her feet, but her 
 voice was cool enough. 
 
 " Well, Vasko, what do you want with me ? " 
 
 " What do I want, Adalena Andreyeva ? You 
 do like to ask that question. Answer it for your- 
 self. I want that money." 
 
 " Boyan told you I know nothing about it," 
 she protested. 
 
 " And I believed him, because it suited my plans 
 to try him first. Now you have your turn, — 
 speak up." 
 
 "And if I refuse to tell you?" she asked 
 quietly. 
 
 He sprang at her with an angry snarl, clutched 
 her shoulders with his calloused hands, and shook 
 her roughly. 
 
 " Then I'll make you," he cursed through 
 gritted teeth, 
 
BRIGANDAGE AND REVOLUTION 313 
 
 For the first time in her venturesome life, Ada- 
 lena felt completely trapped. Taken for a man, 
 one could stand out, bluster; one could defy one's 
 captors, but a woman's defiance was pitiful, ludi- 
 crous, hopeless. A horror, such as she had felt 
 only once before, on the mountain-path in her 
 childhood, when Salih Effendi pursued her, 
 numbed her soul now as she surveyed her estate : 
 helpless, bound, and utterly at an outlaw's mercy. 
 Even If she betrayed the secret, what assurance 
 of safety would she have? And even If she had 
 it, what would life, and honor itself, be worth at 
 
 such a price? Her life he might have, but- 
 
 Once more he shook her, and she shuddered 
 under his grasp. 
 
 " How can you make me? " she barely breathed 
 the words. 
 
 He looked at her keenly; then his face grew 
 very grave and he dropped his hands. 
 
 " My methods are legion," he said, " but none 
 of them what you imagine. Listen. I knew a 
 woman once, a Greek woman, more luscious than 
 the apples of Paradise, lithe and supple as a rus- 
 salka, and as luring. 
 
 " Fool, fool that I was, to believe she could 
 share my shoulder with a revolutionist's rifle! 
 And share it she did, until she wormed out of me 
 the secret which her Turkish retainer wanted. 
 Then she — ^betrayed me." He shivered at the 
 recollection. " Turkish police were never so 
 close to my heels before, or since ; but once across 
 
314 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 the border, on the cold slabs of St. John's at the 
 Rila Cloister, I kissed the Book and vowed 
 that so long as I lived I would not look on a 
 woman again. No man joins my band until he 
 takes that vow. 
 
 " So try none of your wiles on me, Adalena 
 Andreyeva," he added fiercely. " You are ugly, 
 anyway, and — my methods are of sterner stuff." 
 
 He walked up and down the narrow space by 
 the fire. 
 
 "Why should I have to torture you at all?" 
 he suddenly burst out. "Why do you, and De- 
 meter, and all of you, hold me oflf as an outlaw 
 and a brigand, when, after all, your enemy i& 
 mine? The purpose of your whole life Is the 
 purpose of mine — eternal warfare against the 
 Turk." 
 
 " Warfare is not my purpose," the woman pro- 
 tested. " Peace is my goal. You keep Mace- 
 donia in a ferment. You stir up the Turks here, 
 they send an army to subdue you ; by the time the 
 troops arrive, you are far away, stirring up 
 trouble in another district." 
 
 " Precisely," Vasko exulted. " Never let them 
 rest. Why, woman, our will-o'-the-wisp revolts 
 have bankrupted the Ottoman Empire. Armies 
 after armies : they — they can't get at us ! We've 
 drained Asia Minor " 
 
 "You have, and while you eluded the TurKs, 
 they've sucked the very life-blood of our peasan- 
 try. You sing and dance atop your crags, but 
 
BRIGANDAGE AND REVOLUTION 315 
 
 plowing men and women down in the valleys have 
 to pay the piper. And you glory in It, in this 
 sort of costly unrest, which kills, while it brings 
 them no nearer freedom to-day than they were 
 five hundred years ago? Your brigandage ex- 
 hausts the Bulgar peasantry; it touches the Turk* 
 as little as they touch you." 
 
 "Not at all!" Vasko snapped. "We are 
 draining the Sultan's army. The Turk makes a 
 great show, but — his stomach Is empty." 
 
 " He Is always sure to fill It," the woman Inter- 
 rupted. 
 
 " Of course, — ^the hungrier he gets, the more 
 he devours Macedonia. But In time, in time, 
 Adalena, Europe will get tired of this blood- 
 feast. Then Europe will strike, — and the Turk 
 will cave In: because you have preached? No, 
 because we have exhausted him." 
 
 " But true freedonl, Vasko " 
 
 He cut her short. " True freedom, or any 
 other freedom isn't to be got by preaching. 
 Preach freedom I " he laughed in derision. " Look 
 at the Macedonian emigrants In Bulgaria. Edu- 
 cated, prosperous, clean-shaven, — 'they would 
 draw their skirts about them If they saw me 
 coming their way. Teachers they are, professors, 
 diplomats, journalists, lawyers, merchants: their 
 mouths and pens weep for Mother Macedonia, 
 but they keep their finger-nails clean. 
 
 " They send delegations to this king and that — 
 travel first class, too — or they organize parades 
 
3i6 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 and mass-meetings of refugees ; but they buy their 
 farms and build their brick houses in Sofia, Ada- 
 lena. Do you think their smug, portly persons 
 will make Europe turn an ear to their woman- 
 hearted petitions? No, girl, Europe will turn her 
 eyes to Macedonia only when the blood-smell gets 
 too strong for her nose. If affairs are bad 
 enough long enough " 
 
 " An idiotic dream, Vasko," she burst out. 
 " You ought to know better. Europe is indiffer- 
 ent to Turkey's drink until she herself wishes to 
 sip it. If Macedonia is ever to be free, Bulgars 
 and only Bulgars must strike the blow. And that 
 we can not do until all Macedonia is ready, until 
 we can all rise at once." 
 
 " But that will take years " 
 
 " Let it. We must plan, train, we must keep 
 the Turk complacent, unsuspecting, while we 
 gather our strength, and then, when the day 
 comes, Vasko, organized and ready, we shall set 
 Turkey quaking all over!" 
 
 " Our bands " 
 
 " Hear me out, Vasko. Your bands have ham- 
 mered and skulked away for centuries. That sort 
 of thing is futile. Turkdom Is hollow, you say? 
 All the more shame on us that we should thump 
 it, instead of crushing. Wait, Vasko," she in- 
 sisted, " wait until we can strike all along the 
 line, from the Black Sea to Lake Ochrid: then 
 the Turk can not chop us up one by one." 
 
 "But to do this?" 
 
BRIGANDAGE AND REVOLUTION 317 
 
 " To do this, we must conserve every ounce of 
 strength, every single piaster." 
 
 He scoffed. " Your plan is wilder than mine," 
 he said. " Four generations will not find Mace- 
 donia ready for such a struggle, and four genera- 
 tions of quiet will give Turkey strength enough 
 to crush fourteen Macedonias." 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders contemptuously and 
 poked at the fire. 
 
 " But what is the use ? This argument is as 
 old as Macedonia, and as futile. I have my 
 band — ^we need funds. We might rob a Turk to 
 get it; why don't you prevent a massacre, then, 
 by sharing your booty with us?" 
 
 " It is the principle " Adalena began. 
 
 "I am weary to death of your principles! 
 Principles and by-laws and ustavi you elaborate, 
 rules and regulations, and you forget the daily 
 sufferings of live men and women. For the sake 
 of a bloodless principle, you would hand me over 
 to the first Turkish zaptieh. But I'd like to see 
 Akiff Pasha himself try to touch you with his little 
 finger 1 
 
 " Now, are you or are you not going to tell 
 me where that money is? Tell me, and you are 
 free; refuse, and — It Is a seven hours' tramp to 
 our next place. People have gone there who 
 never returned." 
 
 The girl looked at him steadily, but made no 
 answer. 
 
 "Are you going to tell?" 
 
3iS PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 Her eyes shifted to the cave opening and to 
 the sky beyond. 
 
 " If it is a seven hours' tramp," she uttered the 
 words syllable by syllable, " we had better be 
 starting. It may snow before night." 
 
 But Vasko whirled savagely and strode to the 
 mouth of the cave. He glowered at the sky, then 
 his glance wandered over the deep forest ahead. 
 
 " What was that? " he hissed. 
 
 Like lightning, his revolver flashed In his 
 hand, cocked and pointed. He held its mate, 
 ready, in his left hand. 
 
 " Stand out 1 " he called defiantly and covered 
 the spot where a head had dodged behind a huge 
 pine-trunk. " Stand out, or I fire I " 
 
 " At him, Costi, Osman Effendi ! Rush him 1 " 
 Selim Bey called In triumph. " He's trapped at 
 last. I can see him by the fire — alone — with a 
 woman! " 
 
 Three pistols cracked at the same instant, and 
 the three men dashed at the cave. Vasko had to 
 fire in all directions at once, but not at random: 
 old Costi fell, biting the snow. 
 
 " Here, Ada," the brigand shouted, holding 
 out the revolver in his left hand. "Take it 
 quickly, I'm hit." 
 
 She could only reach her two bound hands to- 
 ward him. 
 
 " I'm tied, Vasko ! " she cried piteously. 
 
 Even as she spoke, he lunged forward: the 
 finger clutching the trigger pulled convulsively, 
 
BRIGANDAGE AND REVOLUTION 319 
 
 and Vasko's last cartridge scraped the rock be- 
 fore the cave-mouth. 
 
 Adalena staggered against the stone-ledge, her 
 fingers searching vainly for the tiny phial that 
 never before had been missing from its pocket. 
 She had left it in the peasant jacket, lying in 
 Ivan's hut. 
 
 "BoyanI Boyan!" her parched lips cracked 
 as they uttered the name. She raised her eyes — 
 and looked into the puffy, curious eyes of Sclim 
 Bey. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 DICE AND THE WOMAN 
 
 " AT last I'm sure of my man," Selim ex- 
 
 /-\ claimed, " and " He bowed sweep- 
 
 ingly to Adalena. " A good start for 
 my harem, Osman — eh? " 
 
 Osman stood slightly behind him, studying 
 Adalena with a cool, calculating glance. At 
 Selim's words, he turned on him sharply. 
 
 "Your harem, Selim Bey? Well, hardly. I 
 didn't come all this way in the winter-time to do- 
 mesticate you, old reprobate 1 This woman may 
 be connected in some way with our young, make- 
 believe merchant. Anyway, she is a jewel; Akifif 
 Pasha will pay a good price for her, I feel sure. 
 
 If he doesn't want her " Osman's eyes lln- 
 
 gered appralsingly on their captive. 
 
 " But we've caught her In my district! " 
 
 " But she's my chase 1 " 
 
 Selim tugged at his waxed mustache and 
 scowled into the fire. To be thwarted In this 
 matter meant more than he cared to let Osman 
 know. After the misadventure at Ivko's inn, 
 Selim had not felt inclined to stop and consult 
 
 320 
 
DICE AND THE WOMAN 321; 
 
 with his father in his mad chase after the two 
 fugitives. Costi's depositions had stirred him to 
 immediate action, for the bash-komitaji's escape 
 was very likely still a secret, though he could not 
 be sure. Secrets do leak out in Turkey; in spite 
 of the best precautions; somebody or other is 
 sure to blab. 
 
 He felt pretty certain what sort of a reception 
 awaited him at his father's house. His inferiors 
 would laugh behind his back; his equals would 
 scorn him; but his father would be furious. Be- 
 hind the Pasha's back, Selim could mock at his 
 addled management, but the son still had a very 
 wholesome fear of Murad's justifiable rage. The 
 only way he could return to his old standing in 
 his father's palace would be to enter Goreno with 
 the monk a corpse and this mysterious woman his 
 captive. The bash-kotnitaji dead would be more 
 valuable to Murad than the girl alive, but the 
 capture of both would deprive Akiff Pasha and 
 his men of any chance to brag about the mat- 
 ter. These maddening visions had led him on 
 resistlessly through the wild pursuit of the fugi- 
 tives, — something led him insistently to the cave 
 where the monk had first been captured, — and 
 now at the moment of triumph, Akiff's lieutenant 
 himself coveted and menaced his coup. 
 
 .The situation was baffling indeed; AkiflF was 
 Murad's superior; the bash-kotnitaji himself was 
 under orders to him ; and this woman was a mere 
 female to him until Osman had suggested her 
 
322 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 possible connection with the fugitive from Uskub. 
 Very plainly he could not defy Osman Effendi 
 with impunity. But uncertainty of his being able 
 to keep his prize made him the more loath to 
 lose it. 
 
 Suddenly he whirled and slapped Osman on 
 the shoulder. 
 
 " I have it," he cried. " Not a living soul 
 knows of all this but you and me. We'll settle 
 it between us." He took a dice-box from his 
 pocket and shook it. " Let the points be one 
 hundred. The first one to get five-score, gets the 
 prize." 
 
 Osman hesitated. While he was pretty sure 
 of getting the girl in the end, he was not at all 
 certain of the lengths to which Selim might go to 
 keep her. Besides, Osman had all the delight of 
 a fatalist Oriental in the fall of the dice, and the 
 stakes were worth tossing for. 
 
 " Let us stir up the fire, then," he said. " This 
 cold would freeze hell itself." 
 
 They dragged the rest of the balsam bed and 
 the dried sticks across the cave. 
 
 " Pile it on, pile it on," Osman urged. " You 
 can't set this stone hole afire." 
 
 " It's all for you, my bird," Selim smirked at 
 Ada. " Come," he said, going toward her, " just 
 one kiss for luck." 
 
 "Get back here, "Selim Bey!" Osman snarled 
 lat him. " You don't know whose she is yet." 
 
 Sellra turned on his heel and sat down cross- 
 
DICE AND THE WOMAN 323 
 
 legged before Osman. He took the dice-box out 
 of his pocket, rattled it gaily, and spilled its con- 
 tents on the floor. Five and one blinked up at 
 him. 
 
 " Not a bad start, Osman, — ^what?" he asked. 
 
 "Watch this onel " Osman scored ten points. 
 Selim snatched the cubes and shook them vigor- 
 ously. 
 
 " Twelve I " he cried. " Eighteen in all. He 
 can't equal that — eh, my peasant beauty?" He 
 nodded and winked at Adalena. 
 
 Osman did not equal it at the next throw, but 
 for five successive trials after that, Selim could 
 not get more than ten points. Osman's count 
 mounted steadily. He reached sixty, and Selim 
 Bey still lagged through the thirties. It was his 
 chance at the dice. He shook them madly, then 
 very gently, turning them over and over in the 
 box, trying to poise them on the corner and let 
 them fall. 
 
 " There now," he dumped them at last. " This 
 will add me twelve points or I'm a " 
 
 " You are," Osman roared with laughter. One 
 black eye blinked again from each yellow ivory 
 cube. 
 
 Osman gave the dice a careless toss. A six- 
 and-four came on top. " Who will start his 
 harem first, Selim? Yes?" 
 
 Selim shoved another stick on the fire and 
 poked at the coals. 
 
 " I say, Osman," he argued, " you're winning 
 
324 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 too easily. The girl's worth more. Let's make 
 the stakes two hundred points." 
 
 " No such thing," Osman laughed the fcasy 
 laugh of a winner. " Stakes are stakes, and you 
 knew the prize before you set them." 
 
 *' If we weren't playing for the girl, we'd be 
 playing for something else," Sellm coated his 
 anxiety with a fine Indifference. " I like the game 
 myself. You haven't won yet, anyway; my luck 
 may turn at the next throw." 
 
 "Try and see If it will," Osman pushed the 
 dice forward, but Selim did not touch them. 
 
 " There's no hurry about getting back," he 
 parried. " It will make a fine show for either of 
 us to enter Goreno at twilight, and both of ua 
 don't want to be here with her after the game is 
 won. Come, let's play a while longer." 
 
 Osman considered. After all, chance was 
 chance, and Osman did not want to provoke 
 Selim Bey now. 
 
 *' Let it be two hundred then," he said. " Hurry 
 
 up." 
 
 Selim tossed the box Into the air, the dice tum- 
 bled about and fell with eleven spots on top. 
 
 " Zzum! Now don't you see! Come on, you 
 grasshopper — show what you can do." 
 
 Osman threw cautiously, the count was low. 
 Again and again the dice rattled, but the luck 
 had changed. Selim leaped along; Osman lagged 
 behind. His temper shortened with his luck. 
 
 " One hundred and fifty for me," Selim shook 
 
DICE AND THE WOMAN 325 
 
 with merriment. " Finest game I know, Osman." 
 He tossed a kiss to Ada. " You see your lord, 
 my darling: The best dice-thrower in Mace- 
 donia!" 
 
 " Stop that," Osman growled at him. " The 
 count is going to be three hundred." 
 
 "Three hundred? Too much, Osman. Who 
 wants a game of dice strung on like a Christian 
 funeral? Do we now, my giaur nightingale?" 
 
 "The count is three hundred," Osman re- 
 peated. " And another thing, Selim. You don't 
 know whether she is your nightingale or mine. If 
 she belongs to you, you'll have time enough for 
 your twittering, but if she doesn't, you haven't 
 any business smirking at her like a silly, moon- 
 struck rustic that has never seen anything but 
 pantaloons." 
 
 "What do you want, anyway, Osman? " Selim 
 fretted. " It's bad enough to raise the count 
 when I've almost won, but you won't even let 
 me look at my prize." 
 
 "Arc you a donkey after a carrot, Selim Bey? 
 Leave the girl alone/' 
 
 "Then let the stakes be two hundred and 
 fifty." 
 
 " They will be three hundred," Osman closed. 
 
 It was no use arguing; Murad's eldest tugged 
 at his mustache ends pettishly, but he could think 
 of no way of getting the better of his superior's 
 lieutenant. At last he turned about with his hack 
 to the girl, and picked up the dice. 
 
326 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 " You turn about too, then," he demanded of 
 Osman. 
 
 "All right, but it happens to be my throw," 
 Osman remarked coolly, and took the cubes from 
 the Bey's hand. Selim shrugged his shoulders 
 and bent over the game. 
 
 Luck was inconstant, first one gained, then the 
 other. The two Turks became absorbed com- 
 pletely in the game. Neither spoke a word. 
 
 Leaning against the back-ledge of the cave, the 
 woman watched the progress of the gamble as a 
 trapped mouse might watch the mewing parade 
 of a couple of toms about its trap. Since the first 
 throw, she had scarcely moved a step. The rapid 
 succession of captors had stunned her, and she 
 trembled between the wild hope of an impossible 
 rescue and black despair. If Boyan could by any 
 chance have got free, — ^but would he dream of 
 hunting for her in the cave I 
 
 She stole unnoticed moments and strained 
 fiercely at the cords that held her bound; but 
 wrists and ankles were too numb and sore to 
 exert much pressure, the blue veins only swelled 
 into purple cords, and, exhausted, she leaned back 
 against the wall and gasped with the sharpness 
 of the pain. Her throat was parched for water; 
 in spite of the cold, her blood ran fire-hot through 
 her limbs and pounded at her temples. 
 
 " Caught, caught, caught," the words throbbed 
 pulse-like in her brain. She had no chance for 
 argument here — the end of the game would be 
 
DICE AND THE WOMAN 327 
 
 the end of everything. She was no more than the 
 hundred hundred Macedonian girls who had gone 
 down into the same hideous darkness. Escape? 
 The word mocked at her, tantalized her. In a 
 despair of madness, she bit at the cords, ]trying 
 to gnaw through thread after thread, but the 
 hemp was hard Iron. 
 
 From where she stood, Adalena could looK 
 around the end of the huge boulder that blocked 
 the cave's broad mouth and see through the nar- 
 row, slit-like entrance. The distance seemed piti- 
 fully short, and neither of the Turks had noticed 
 it apparently. She might creep to it unperceived. 
 But even if she could get outside, how could she 
 ever crawl to a hiding-place in time? 
 
 "Two hundred," Selim grunted. "Allah, I 
 wish this were the end." 
 
 Adalena looked again toward the narrow patch 
 of blue and white beyond the opening, and Into 
 the dark gray-green of the pines which separated 
 sky and snow-covered mountain. She strained 
 her eyes to catch a. glimpse of any moving crea- 
 ture, she pressed her ear against the cave wall to 
 hear the softest footfall. She could distinguish 
 nothing but her own heart-beat. 
 
 Was it the pressure of a foot on the dry snow? 
 She bit her lip tightly and closed her eyes to listen 
 the more Intently. Did the footfall come again, 
 or was If merely her own imagination? 
 
 " What was that? " Adalena thought the ques- 
 tion so hard she was sure she must have screamed 
 
328 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 the words, but neither of the Turks moved. Os- 
 man went on tossing in his usual cool, complacent 
 way; Selim leaned over to catch the first glimpse 
 of the cubes as thej' tumbled on the rocks. Evi- 
 dently neither had heard a sound, but to the 
 woman the twig had broken like a clap of thun- 
 der. The silence that followed was full of wait- 
 ing; neither she nor the intruder moved or 
 breathed, and then • 
 
 Adalena was sure it was no trick of her imagi- 
 nation, somebody or something was coming — 
 treading with slow, cautious, padded feet. They 
 came from behind the cave, creeping nearer and 
 nearer the slit between the rocks. The girl's eyes 
 never left the opening; she wanted to see what 
 the Turks were doing, but she dared not lose 
 what might be; but a second's glance. 
 
 " A few more like those two, and the darling 
 is mine," Selim cried in exultation. " Say, Os- 
 man, you ought to let me have one look for two 
 such throws as those." 
 
 Osman's answer was an angry growl. His 
 luck had not changed markedly, and his eyes were 
 dark and sour. 
 
 " Stick to your work," he said. " You'll have 
 time enough for your smirking." 
 
 A wary cap crept around the rocky edge of the 
 opening — a Balkan kalpak — and Ivan's eyes 
 sought the woman In silent Inquiry. She moved 
 slightly until he could see the cords jaround her 
 wrists and ankles. 
 
DICE AND THE WOMAN 329 
 
 Selim burst out in a round of profanities; Os- 
 man's luck, had changed at last. In their excite- 
 ment, the gamesters drew together until they were: 
 almost entirely on the other side of the fire. The 
 end of the game was in sight. 
 
 Adalena sidled by imperceptible inches toward 
 the opening; if she could once get through and 
 Ivan cut thoso cords I Her progress was madden- 
 ingly slow. The Huntsman squeezed sidewise 
 through the fissure and crept forward to meet 
 her. They guarded every footfall, not a loose 
 pebble stirred, and the fire crackled and flamed in 
 front of them. One yard more, twd feet — one 
 step. Ivan's huge clasp-knife was at the cords 
 and the blood rushed freely again through wrists 
 and ankles. 
 
 But the girl was almost as helpless as before. 
 She did not dare take the pistol he held out 
 to her, her hands were numb and useless. Ivan 
 stooped slightly and gathered her up in his arms ; 
 then, as quietly but far more quickly, he covered 
 again the space to the opening and shoved her 
 through. Pnce there he turned back, undecided, 
 his hand on the trigger of his gun. Adalena shook 
 her head frantically. 
 
 "No, no," her lips framed the words, 
 "Gomel" 
 
 He slipped the weapon into his belt and slid 
 outside. 
 
 " My horse is just below on the trail," he whis- 
 pered. " I must carry you again," 
 
330 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 "Two hundred and seventy-two," Osman 
 shouted jubilantly in front of the fire. 
 
 Selim grabbed the bits of ivory and shook them 
 madly. Three points 
 
 "Aha, eighty! " Osman cried again. 
 
 " Eighty for me," Selim gasped. 
 
 "Eighty-seven," Osman crowded nearer. 
 
 " Eighty-nine," Selim shouted. 
 
 " Ninety-six," Osman laughed. 
 
 Selim shook the dice-box slowly, with madden- 
 ing deliberation, sneering into Osman's face. 
 
 " This time you will not laugh I " he cursed. 
 The dice rattled on the stones with a six and a; 
 five on top. Selim sprang up. 
 
 "Allah be merciful, Osman! She's gone! " 
 
 Blank amazement held them for a moment. 
 
 "Gone?" Osman repeated, his voice husky 
 with superstitious fear. " She was tied ! " 
 
 They rushed outside and searched on the snow 
 for possible tracks. At the back of the cave, they 
 saw the footprints leading off across the divide. 
 
 " Come, Osman, follow them." 
 
 Akiff's lieutenant turned on his heel and went 
 iback to the fire. 
 
 " Chase your own women. This is the last 
 time I'll risk my skin for your bungling, Selim 
 Bey," he retorted. " You've got your man, and 
 as for girls — come lo the next village. Take your 
 carcass and let's make for Goreno, or we'll be 
 having a whole band about our ears before dark." 
 
 "What I can't understand, anyway," Selim 
 
DICE AND THE WOMAN 331 
 
 ruminated, coming back, "is "why the girl was 
 bound." He stooped and rolled the cold stiff 
 body of the brigand over on his back. Dsman 
 saw him start with surprise, then look carefully 
 at the dead man's features. When Selim rose, his 
 face was pale with superstitious fright. 
 
 " Osman, let's be off," he whispered hoarsely. 
 "They've changed him. He is another man." 
 
 • • • • • 
 
 •Dnce more the low-hanging spruce branches 
 before the cave parted, and Boyan hobbled 
 through. He saw tracks everywhere, the smooth 
 imprint of sandals almost trampled out by the 
 hob-nailed pressure of heavy boots; and halfway 
 up to the cave-opening, a ragged, dirty figure lay 
 stretched face-downward. Across the cave's en- 
 trance he saw Vasko lying at full length. A little 
 stream of blood oozed through his jacket and 
 down upon the snow. 
 
 Boyan came up In a maze of bewilderment and 
 rolled Cost! over. The face seemed slightly fa- 
 miliar: where had he seen it before? He put his 
 nose against the greasy jacket. "Fish!" he 
 sniffed. Then Boyan remembered: the dirty 
 shack, the sleepy, disheveled fisherman, the ice- 
 bound Bistra Kiver, the swaying plank! Evi- 
 dently he had only stunned him. The old fellow 
 had told someone — ^probably Selim Bey himself. 
 The whole day's story rushed over him as he 
 looked into Costi's wrinkled face. 
 
 Frantic with an unnameable possibility, Boyan 
 
332. PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 rushed into the cave. He found only his own 
 abandoned trappings, the dying fire, and a pair of 
 charred dice. There was something else. — He 
 picked them up with trembling fingers. Adalena 
 must have struggled desperately to. stain those 
 hemp<:ords with so much blood. 
 
 Boyan's head swam. "Adalena, Ada mine," 
 he cried in anguish. " I shall find you. Wher- 
 ever your captors have taken you, I shall find 
 you." 
 
 His first Impulse was to follow at once, he 
 could see by the foot-prints that the Turk party 
 had been small. But where ? To go directly and 
 alone to Goreno was a fool's errand. He knew 
 no one there, no one there had even heard his 
 name. Ivan was the only man he knew who could 
 put him in touch with the Goreno comrades and 
 make Ada's deliverance possible. 
 
 In setting out for the cave, after his success in 
 wriggling out of his bonds, Boyan had felt sure 
 of finding the Huntsman there. But obviously 
 Ivan had been delayed. Boyan's only course 
 seemed to be to wait for him: but how costly, 
 maddening the delay! 
 
 The wooden Saint John and the lithographed 
 Virgin beamed piously in front of the burned 
 candle — but the man had forgotten the monk. 
 The cave itself was only her cave, her asylum 
 once; now her prison, and who was her gaoler 
 to-night ? 
 
 He banished the dread words which shouted 
 
DICE AND THE WOMAN 333 
 
 themselves in his ears ; a captive alone, not in Bul- 
 gar hands, perhaps in Selim Bey's, perhaps— 
 God! 
 
 Boyan glanced down. The two figures lay 
 stiff and stark before him, corpses on the ground 
 which her feet had trod I He went first to Costi 
 and lifted the old body on his shoulder. His 
 feet were sore and he staggered once or twice, 
 though the old man was not heavy. 
 
 At the cliff above the Ladna River, Boyan 
 stopped and laid his burden on the brink of the 
 chasm. 
 
 " You poor devil I Do you know whom you 
 were pursuing? " he murmured. Then he shoved 
 the body clear of the edge, and watched it drop 
 through the ice. 
 
 But some distance from the cave he dug away 
 the snow and hollowed a shallow grave among 
 the rocks. It was slow, tiring work; the stones 
 clung to the ice-filled earth, but at length it was 
 done. He carried Vasko there, and, laying him 
 down among the stones, heaped the rocks above 
 him without a word. 
 
 He stood a moment looking down on the un- 
 hallowed grave. 
 
 " He may have fought for her," Ke half-whis- 
 pered, and went back to the cave. 
 
 But it was drear, empty. The horrible idea of 
 Adalena's probable fate overwhelmed him, — the 
 hideous terror, the tragedy, the hopelessness of 
 itl He paced up and down the hard, cold stones; 
 
334 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 chill gusts of wind blew about the cold ashes of 
 the balsam bed, which had been her couch. 
 
 Lost beyond deliverance! Each moment of 
 thinking made thinking the vainer. The doors of 
 the Goreno konak, the heavy iron gates of de- 
 spair, had they clanged behind Adalena? Sud- 
 denly the lunacy of his waiting struck him poig- 
 nantly: what was he waiting for? What could 
 Ivan do to help deliver her from that bondage? 
 Goreno could organize an attack on the palace — 
 could it ever give her back to him alive, invio- 
 late? Waiting was futile; and going — where 
 could he go ! He twitched in utter impotence. 
 
 " Lost beyond redemption ! " He almost 
 chanted it. His voice caught at the last word: 
 " Redemption, redemption." It sang itself mock- 
 ingly in his brain, " Beyond redemption ! " 
 
 Boyan stood very still. Redemption: Vasko 
 had wanted a ransom! Then — ^why — -why not? 
 Floods of maddening ideas rushed over him; he 
 stafitiped on the rocks, waved his hands, clutched 
 his fingers, rumpled his hair, in a wild effort to 
 think consecutively. 
 
 Vasko had wanted a ransom: and Vasko had 
 known Adalena's identity. Then why not Selim 
 Bey — or whoever her present Turkish captor 
 was? She must be a mere female trophy to the 
 Turk. But one thousand pounds: who would 
 take a mere one thousand pounds for such a) 
 woman? But to the Turk she would not be a' 
 woman, Boyan's hope protested, — only a female! 
 
DICE AND THE WOMAN 335 
 
 One thousand pounds : half the price of Murad's 
 projected summer house! 
 
 Boyan rushed from the cave and set out across 
 the mountain-crest, which divided the Ladna valley 
 from the valley of the Struma River. 
 
 " A forked pine — a dwarfed birch near the 
 only beech-tree around ! " he kept saying. 
 
 The thought that the hidden gold was sacred 
 to the Cause never entered his mind. She was 
 the Cause to him. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 
 VISIONS AND REVISIONS 
 
 MURAD PASHA sat before a low tabouret 
 sipping his early morning coffee and 
 puiEng at his cigarette in turn. His 
 wives fluttered about like so many gay silken but- 
 terflies, vying in their jealous zeal for serving 
 their lord. Murad was giving his family a quite 
 unusual attention; he generally preferred to be 
 served elsewhere; but the cold of the January 
 morning tormented his sixty-year-old joints, and 
 the harem sitting-room was the most comfortable 
 and the sunniest In the entire palace. 
 
 Mlhirmah was the only one In the harem whom 
 Murad's unusual benignity did not seem to rouse 
 into action, and she was the only one who dared 
 display such Indifference. The Pasha of Goreno 
 was used to all sorts of moods from his presented 
 serafflio-w'iie and was glad enough to avoid fric- 
 tion by leaving her to herself. Still, this morning 
 he could not help being curious and not a little 
 piqued at her complete absorption. Now and 
 then he glanced where she leaned against one of 
 the latticed windows and gazed steadily through 
 
 236 
 
VISIONS AND REVISIONS 337 
 
 the harem-bars at the humming, buzzing Mace- 
 donian peasant-world that was going past. 
 
 It was market-day in Goreno, to be sure, but 
 Mlhirmah must have watched hundreds of mar- 
 ket-days from those very windows. Murad saw 
 no reason for her interest at this particular time. 
 He wanted to speak to her, but Mihirmah's an- 
 swer was as likely to be a domestic bomb as a 
 dutiful obeisance. Three other Hanoums were 
 ready to retort to her first syllable, and Murad 
 was anxious to enjoy peace for once. The very 
 air he breathed reeked of explosives : he did not 
 :want them in his harem. So he sipped his coffee 
 in silence, while Zayleh and Fatma Hanoum ar- 
 gued for first right, and the meek-eyed, yellow- 
 skinned Sumruda, the second wife, served his 
 breakfast. 
 
 Mlhirmah herself could not have accounted for 
 her determined abstraction. A peasant woman 
 came down the street at an easy, swinging stride, 
 intent on being the first to place her eggs and 
 cheese on the market-place. Mihirmah watched 
 the woman as she passed under the overhanging 
 latticed windows. The peasant did not look up, 
 and Mlhirmah heard her jesting merrily with a 
 passing donkey-driver, and go on, trudging under 
 her load notwithstanding. 
 
 To be strong, free — to be able to do things! 
 !Mihirmah gazed off toward the blue, snow- 
 capped mountains and the stretches of pasture 
 and forest-land beyond the Ladna River. She 
 
338 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 had been there — once. She shivered and thrilled 
 at the same time at the thought of that wild even- 
 ing — alone with Boyan on the upland trail, alone, 
 with a sprained foot, carried along In his arms I 
 The strong beat of his heart as he trod uphill 
 and downhill, — his eyes of fire, and the black hair 
 above them, — and then those others, the gray- 
 beard, the sturdy old woman, the stalwart, shaggy 
 son in the shepherd cabin! . . . 
 
 During all the cheerless, futile days since that 
 wild night's escape and capture, Mihirmah had 
 roamed about the women's quarters of the konak 
 like some jailed spirit. Existence dragged like a 
 log-chain on hef soul, she hated opening her eyes 
 in the morning. Even her imagination had de- 
 serted her: the fantasies that had beguiled for- 
 mer tedium seemed to have lost their lure. Only 
 that one day and night, and the certainty of 
 haremltk the rest of her days and nights I 
 
 The daughter of Stamboul seraglios and the 
 bash-komitaji's comrade-for-a-day withered under 
 a sense of injustice, a sense of being hopelessly, 
 irremediably cheated. 
 
 '* He told me I must earn freedom, — and life, 
 — and power. I did earn it." 
 
 She watched the peasant woman as she praised 
 her wares to this customer or that, and she hated 
 her and her red jacket; hated the calloused hands, 
 the strong, shapeless ankles, and the face stolid, 
 not merely because it had faced wind and rain on 
 the open pastures, but because stolidity had been 
 
yiSIONS AND REVISIONS 339 
 
 the one characteristic which had kept this woman, 
 her parents, and her grandparents alive' for five 
 hundred years of Moslemdom. 
 
 Mihirmah hated this woman jealously, petu- 
 lantly, without reason. "What has she ever 
 done — this giaur peasant — that she can jest with 
 donkey-drivers, and box her neighbor's ears, and 
 be alive and strong and free?" 
 
 Mihirmah shuddered with disgust: what a 
 blundering, bungling lunacy Kismet really was 1 
 
 Her very immobility as she stood at the win- 
 dow wearied her. She must move, go somewhere, 
 anywhere, as long as she was going; even if it 
 :were only up and down stairways, corridors, 
 mountain-roads. . . . 
 
 She had quite forgotten Murad's presence, and 
 her sudden whirl as she turned from the window 
 brought her face to face with him. He had left 
 his breakfast and was walking toward her^ watch- 
 ing keenly the dark rebellious lines on her face. 
 She met his glance squarely for an instant, coolly, 
 (defiantly — ^but only for an instant. Then her ha- 
 bitual look of easy languor veiled all trace of 
 expression, and she bowed before the Goreno 
 Pasha. 
 
 " I hope my lord has breakfasted to his liking," 
 she droned. 
 
 " It would be by no virtue of yours if he had," 
 Murad replied, and again their eyes met — with 
 a glint of steel in the woman's to match the glassy 
 stare of the man's. 
 
340 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 " My son, my precious Selim," Fatma cried 
 out, running to the door. " He is back, safe, 
 well." She threw her arras about the youth's 
 shoulders and embraced him in an ecstasy of 
 delight. 
 
 Selim returned her embraces with the sort of 
 cordiality which that young Bey had rarely shown 
 toward any of his family; then advancing to his 
 father, he bent respectfully over his hand and 
 kissed it twice. 
 
 " The darling! " Fatma cried rapturously. " Is 
 he not a son, my lord? Such a fine, sweet sol- 
 dier I" 
 
 Murad looked at his eldest with a touch of 
 suspicion; Selim's arrival was quite unexpected, 
 his father had not looked for his return from 
 Uskub before weeks had passed, and this sudden 
 appearance in the harem, early in the morning, 
 utterly unannounced and unaccompanied, put the 
 old man on his guard. He had heard rumors. 
 He motioned Fatma to be quiet, and asked curtly: 
 
 " Well, Selim, and what has Akiff done with 
 my Master Rebel?" 
 
 Selim stared out of the window a moment and 
 then boldly in his father's eyes. 
 
 " Akiff Pasha has not seen the Master Rebel." 
 
 " Not seen? " Murad gasped in dismay. " Not 
 seen? Selim, are you telling me the truth? 
 Where is the bash-komitap?" 
 
 " Allah knows," Selim replied. " But any good 
 Moslem could guess." 
 
VISIONS AND REVISIONS 341 
 
 Murad staggered a little and sat down on the 
 long divan. 
 
 "And your soldiers?" He looked at his son 
 sternly. " Did you leave your soldiers in Uskub ; 
 did Akiff send you back alone to me ? " 
 
 " I have returned alone," Selim replied very 
 slowly, choosing his words, " because the soldiers 
 escorted the bash-komitaji — up there." He 
 jerked his thumb toward the ceiling. . 
 
 Murad sank back trembling on the cushion, his 
 fingers pulling aimlessly at the loose folds of his 
 morning-coat, his face ashy. The rumor then 
 was true 
 
 Fatma ran up and pressed her cheek against 
 his hands. Her own face was pale and anxious, 
 while she pleaded: 
 
 " What does it matter, anyway, Pride of the 
 Vardar? " she begged. "Soldiers? The Sultan 
 has countless soldiers. And the bash-komitaji 
 is dead. You may be glad — for Selim — our 
 Selim, Murad. He is not hurt. See — he is " 
 
 Murad pulled himself together and shook her 
 off. 
 
 " I see he is not hurt," he said, glowering at 
 his son. " So it is true ; I thought it was a ffiaur 
 lie before. That inn did burn, — and the soldiers 
 
 and prisoner " he broke off and paced the 
 
 length of the room. 
 
 " I waited to hear from you," He went on, 
 turning to his son, " then yesterday I sent Mus- 
 tafa to investigate." 
 
34^ PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 For the first time Selim seemed disturbed. He 
 flushed and looked intently at the toes of his 
 boots. 
 
 " And now, my young man," Murad struggled 
 to keep down his temper, " tell me how you hap- 
 pen to be here in an undisturbed skin?" 
 
 " Murad," Fatma cried, " / am only glad he is 
 here, safe. What if " 
 
 " Hold your tongue, Fatma," Murad thun- 
 dered. " Now answer me, you craven. Answer." 
 
 But Selim stared at his boot-tops and was 
 silent. 
 
 " Perhaps the dear son heard of a fair in the 
 village, — or maybe the peasants invited him to a 
 wedding feast — 'just to relieve the day's ennui.'' 
 Yes?" 
 
 Every one looked in amazement toward the 
 alcove whence Mihirmah smiled blandly across at 
 Selim. She had retreated into the bay-window 
 when he entered and he had not noticed her 
 before. His face crimsoned at her words, and 
 his hand went involuntarily to his sword-hilt. 
 
 " Listen at that woman," Fatma shrilled jeal- 
 ously. " She would accuse my Selim of neglect, 
 
 of desertion, of — of " Fatma stopped as 
 
 modesty bade her. 
 
 Mihirmah laughed contemptuously. The 
 promise of a conflict thrilled her, she did not 
 care in the least that the quarrel was not her own. 
 
 Murad watched the deep crimson of Selim's 
 face die out. 
 
VISIONS AND REVISIONS 343 
 
 "She is a clever vixen. Did she guess it?" 
 he aslted. 
 
 "And if she did?" Selim parried. 
 
 " If she did? " Murad's face grew livid with 
 wrath. " Are you the Sultan's stallion that you 
 prance about the country at your sweet will? 
 What of the Master Rebel? What of Akiff 
 Pasha? What of your silly governorship now? 
 How long will I remain in Goreno when AkifE 
 orders me a second time to send that man to 
 Uskub, and there is no man to send? " 
 
 Selim turned to his father. " Akiff Pasha will 
 not order you a second time, father," he said, 
 smiling. " Akiff Pasha has let a giaur slip 
 through his own fingers that he would turn the 
 whole vilayet wrong-side-out to get hold of 
 again." 
 
 Murad Pasha grabbed his son quickly by the 
 shoulder. 
 
 "Are you sure, Selim?" he said eagerly. "It 
 is not the first one. We may profit by this, my 
 boy. We may profit. At least you did not lose 
 our bash-komitaji, at least he is dead. The 
 burning — that is a little thing. Perhaps neces- 
 sary. You might have met a band on the way, 
 who would have rescued him." Murad was think- 
 ing fast. " Yes, that was it. You suspected such 
 a band — ^you had to order the inn burned to pre- 
 vent the bash-komitaji from escaping. I see — I 
 see. You're a clever boy, Selim. And Akiff's 
 man — he got away?" 
 
344 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 "But the fire?" Mihirmah interrupted again, 
 " Tell us about the fire, Selim. Did you see the 
 bash-komitaji burn up?" 
 
 Her manner was artfully innocent. Selim 
 cursed this woman who knew when not to stop. 
 
 " See him? " he said scornfully. " How could 
 I see him, Mihirmah Hanoum? Was I tied to 
 the post, too?" 
 
 " Evidently not," she retorted. " Nor to any 
 post." 
 
 Selim was tender; he winced in spite of his 
 anger. 
 
 " But tell us about the fire," Mihirmah per- 
 sisted. "Even your devoted mother would like 
 to hear how bravely her darling fought the 
 flames." Mihirmah's scorn was but thinly veiled; 
 Fatma felt it and flared in defense. 
 
 " His mother does not want to know," she de- 
 clared. " Why do you not order her to be quiet, 
 Murad? She is only rousing my boy. She vexes 
 us all the whole day long." 
 
 " Be still, mother," Selim replied for his father. 
 "Who is afraid of her chatter? " 
 
 " Not Selim Bey, of course," Mihirmah put 
 in. " Mihirmah knows nothing beyond four 
 walls." She waved her hand languorously, her 
 eyes half-closed. " But she learns some things 
 now and then. Let's see-- — If the soldiers 
 were really drunk — with sleeping potions maybe, 
 or something — and they could burn themselves 
 up, why couldn't some one else have started the 
 
VISIONS AND REVISIONS 345 
 
 fire? Then they may have appeared before 
 Allah without their prisoner." 
 
 Selim glared at her, astonished and furious. 
 She was a sorceress, this woman who tore his 
 passions, read his nature, and mocked him to 
 scorn. Old Murad, who had been mumbling 
 and planning" Akiff's confusion, started at her 
 words. 
 
 " You don't mean escaped? Our bash-komi- 
 taji escaped? Why, Selim burned him up. The 
 soldiers — that was an accident. The walls caved 
 in. Yes, I shall have it all written down and 
 reported to the Sultan." 
 
 Mihirmah laughed. " And how Selim fought 
 his way back alone through bands of rebels. You 
 can see how he looks. Have his uniform sent 
 with the note to show how torn his clothes are." 
 
 " You have talked enough, Mihirmah," Murad 
 shouted. " I have said how it happened." Even 
 Zayleh might have been subdued by the look in 
 Murad's face. Mihirmah's heart beat a little 
 faster, but her lips still curled. 
 
 "And what Allah says is true " she 
 
 laughed softly, 
 
 " Sst, you barking, yelping, unasked gift-wife," 
 Murad choked. " Not one other sound out of 
 you 1 By my sword, — a woman ! " He sputtered 
 helplessly. 
 
 Mihirmah moved quietly toward the door. 
 She meant to leave without saymg anything fur- 
 ther, but at the last step, she hesitated, turned, 
 
346 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 and fixed her dark, deep, half-closed eyes on 
 Selim. 
 
 " Yes, — a woman," she echoed. " And what 
 can a woman do, — Selim Bey?" 
 
 Alone in her own apartment the languor left 
 her. She paced up arid down, tingling, rebellious, 
 exultant, despondent. Down there she had 
 shown no concern, but Murad's furious assault 
 had struck home. She was a cast-away gift — 
 unwanted, tossed here in these Macedonian 
 mountains. 
 
 She threw open a window to feel the cold air 
 about her. A clamor from the market-place 
 flooded the room. Mihirmah closed the window 
 and clapped her hands for Aisha. She would go 
 crazy in these closed, shutter-bound rooms; a 
 trip through the market-place would at least pro- 
 vide a diversion. 
 
 The old woman crept into the room and waited, 
 halting by the door. 
 
 " Get my street-clothes," Mihirmah ordered. 
 " We shall go for a walk into the market." 
 
 Aisha ran forward and fell at her mistress' 
 feet. 
 
 " Oh, my rose, my beautiful one," she cried, 
 "what has my darling done? Your lord, Murad 
 Pasha, has ordered it. You can not leave these 
 rooms for seven whole days 1 " 
 
CHAPTER XXXIX 
 
 WHOM ALLAH HELPS 
 
 4N0THER week had dragged by, and once 
 r\ more it was market-day in Goreno. The 
 snow, which lay so heavily on the moun- 
 tain-crests, had melted on the public square into 
 watery slush, under the combined influence of a 
 warm sun and the kneading of a hundred feet 
 and hoofs. It ran in tiny wanton rivulets between 
 the uneven paving stones into a dozen muddy 
 pools, where stray dogs lapped and buffaloes, 
 released from their carts, wallowed and grunted 
 out their satisfaction in the sunshine. 
 
 Peasant women haggled with the townsfolk 
 over the price of cheese and eggs and home-woven 
 woolens and mattings; across the square their 
 men-folk bartered sheep and cattle. Gypsies 
 whined out the merits of their basketry and 
 kitchen pottery, and in and out among the crowd 
 a greasy Greek vendor of sweets and lemon-water 
 pushed his gaily painted cart and wheedled for 
 customers. Fezes and kalpaks mingled with the 
 gay scarves of the peasant girls; heavy boots 
 drowned the soft patter of buffalo-hide sandals; 
 
 347 
 
348 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 dogs yelped; and tiny, half -clad urchins scram- 
 bled after the Goreno women, begging to carry 
 their purchases home for ha.U-a,-ffoloffan. 
 
 The crowd in Stoyan the Chandler's shop gos- 
 siped and selected purchases with unruffled delib- 
 eration; foot-room was scarce at Abraham the 
 Jew's; here one heard only of bartering, farming, 
 herding. But in the little inn opposite the blue- 
 plastered mosque and the Turkish cemetery, dis- 
 cussion occasionally took a different turn. A 
 boiling hot cup of Balkan coffee or a biting glass 
 of raki loosened one's wit, and veiled language 
 of innocent sound exchanged between friends did 
 service for the franker discussions of more fa- 
 vored countries. 
 
 The muezzin's cry was still ringing over the 
 market-place : " God is most great. Come to 
 prayer! There is no God but Allah," when 
 Sehm Bey left the konak with his new private 
 aide Mustafa, and strolled toward the mosque. 
 Selim was not given to prayer, but Fate had 
 played so many strange tricks with him of late 
 that he had resolved by unusual devotion to in- 
 crease his favor with both Allah and Goreno 
 Turkdom. 
 
 Such a cloak of profound meditation enveloped 
 him, as he crossed the market-place, that the 
 crowding, jostling traders parted briskly before 
 him. Only one luckless peasant, not noticing the 
 Bey's advance, elbowed his way on through the 
 crowd and bumped against the sudden devotee. 
 
WHOM ALLAH HELPS 349 
 
 Selim stumbled, caught himself, and hurled a 
 volley of oaths at the ill-starred peasant. The 
 man sprang back and apologized in a flabby- 
 voweled dialect rarely heard in Goreno. He was 
 obviously a stranger, a charcoalman, he said, and 
 he had come down to Goreno to buy a donkey. 
 His accursed eyes had not noticed the most hon- 
 ored Bey. Selim spat at him; Mustafa kicked 
 him for good measure ; and the Bey pushed on up 
 the mosque steps. But Mustafa lingered awhile, 
 and his eyes still followed the mountaineer, who 
 was not at all directing his attention to donkeys. 
 
 " Selim Bey," Mustafa called his master back, 
 " that rascal has not gone to the donkey sale. 
 He is over by the inn. I believe he is looking 
 for some one." 
 
 Selim Bey wheeled and watched the peasant a 
 long minute without speaking. The charcoal man 
 was talking in a low voice with Croom Dobreff 
 and Gani the Driver, who sipped their coffee in 
 front of the inn. Croom motioned toward the 
 highway that led up across the river to the moun- 
 tains beyond. The man glanced about, then 
 walked quickly away. 
 
 " Come to prayers," came the last call. 
 " Allah only can help us. There is no God but 
 Allah." 
 
 " Down Jabeshka alley," Selim whispered ex- 
 citedly. " Crawl under the board bridge over by 
 Frog Hollow and we can catch him at the turn 
 this side of the Ladna Bridge. 
 
350 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 " The deserted blacksmith shop under the 
 bank," he whispered as they dodged through the 
 cemetery and into the crooked, dirty alley, run- 
 ning with slush and mud and garbage. 
 
 " There is no God but Allah ! " the devotees in 
 the mosque chanted, and the monotonous drone 
 of the Imam mingled faintly, dreamily, with the 
 hub-bub outside. 
 
 The stranger swung sturdily along the street, 
 watchful but unsuspicious. The houses grew 
 smaller and farther-between, until only a few 
 sheds straggled along the highway. The road 
 was high, to meet the level of the bridge, but on 
 either side the lots sloped down into rush-filled, 
 swampy fields. No one was on the road, the 
 peasants were not yet returning from market, and 
 the few inhabitants of the neighborhood were at 
 work. 
 
 The mountaineer turned the bend of the road: 
 the bridge lay just before him. 
 
 " Stop ! " Sellm stepped from a shed In the 
 road that had once served as a wayside black- 
 smith-shop, and stood directly in front of the 
 stranger. Mustafa grabbed his arms from be- 
 hind and tied them fast. 
 
 " Gag him, Mustafa ! " 
 
 The zaptieh had already done it. The peas- 
 ant was taken too completely by surprise to make 
 even a sign of resistance. He followed supinely 
 as the aide yanked him Into the shop and shoved 
 him toward the rickety stairs that led into a damp 
 
WHOM ALI.AH HELPS 351 
 
 cellar littered with bits of board, old iron, and 
 heaps of trash. Selim followed and shut the trap- 
 door behind him. 
 
 The cellar was a small, square hole, the size 
 of the smithy that covered it, with packed clay 
 walls and floor, and was evidently used as a store- 
 room for all sorts of odds and ends, useless but 
 too good to throw away. It had one tiny slit of 
 a window on the side away from the road-bank: 
 now at high-noon it allowed a cobwebby slanting 
 breadth of sunshine to stream across the cellar 
 and send a dusty gleam over the trash-heaps and 
 into the dark corners. 
 
 Selim and Mustafa went straight to their 
 work: a very little search of the peasant's jacket- 
 lining brought out a note, hand-printed in good 
 Bulgarian : 
 
 " To the Nimrod of Macedon — From the 
 Mount of Tribulation. Greetings! He That 
 Prepareth The Way will gurgle over a cup of 
 coffee in Stanko's Inn above the Komari Bog on 
 Monday afternoon next, to meet you with tidings 
 from the Great on High." 
 
 "Of a priest's cassock and a flowing beard 
 Nor Turk nor Moslem ever is afeared." 
 
 " Ah ! " Selim grunted in satisfaction. The 
 meaning was clear enough. The Goreno district 
 could hold only one He That Prepareth The 
 Way; the diguise, the most obvious one for the 
 hash-komitaji. Fate had thrown good fortune 
 
352 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 in Selim's way once more, and this time he would 
 make no false moves. 
 
 The arrangements for the rendezvous were 
 precision itself: Stanko's Inn above the Komari 
 Bog. Selim knew Stanko's Inn very well indeed, 
 and he knew the innkeeper. It would be the 
 easiest thing in the world to tell Murad Pasha 
 that the bash-komitaji was in the district, have 
 Stanko's Inn surrounded on Monday afternoon, 
 and the rebel captured. But Selim had suffered 
 too severely at the hand of Fate during the past 
 couple of weeks to feel any desire for sharing 
 certain glory. He must capture Boyan, and cap- 
 ture him single-handed, — at least with no more 
 assistance than Mustafa's. 
 
 He thought also of lying in wait nearby and 
 capturing this elusive rebel as he came to the inn; 
 it would save any interference from possible 
 guests. But to meet the monk alone on a moun- 
 tain road: Murad's eldest remembered the 
 frame of his man; he guessed well that the bash- 
 komitaji would not be unarmed, nor dreaming. 
 
 As he thought the matter over, Selim became 
 convinced that the wisest way to accomplish all 
 the ends he desired was to let the bash-komitaji 
 see his way clear to the inn above the Komari 
 Bog and get tangled there in the meshes of his 
 net. Perhaps, the Moslem smiled shrewdly, per- 
 haps he could come back to Goreno with two 
 rebels in chains! The governorship of Uskub 
 seemed once more very near. 
 
WHOM ALLAH HELPS 353 
 
 Who was this Nimrod of Macedon? He must 
 get his letter promptly and unsuspectingly; but 
 Mustafa could be trusted to attend to that mat- 
 ter. Selim turned to the peasant. For fifteen tor- 
 menting minutes the man was stubbornly silent. 
 Arguments, threats, and blows alike he treated 
 with stolid contempt. But Selim was past master 
 in the art of exquisite torture, and by the time 
 the third beech-splinter had been hammered under 
 the finger-nails of the captive's left hand, his 
 right hand had traced upon a blood-stained scrap 
 of paper the name of Ivan the Huntsman, at the 
 Seven Well-springs. 
 
 "Umphf" Selim grunted. "I might have 
 guessed it." He copied the note and resealed It 
 carefully. "You'll see that it gets there, Mus- 
 tafa," he ordered, handing It over. Then he 
 turned to the mountaineer. 
 
 "Some Christian curs have given wrong 
 names," he hissed at him. " But after the beech- 
 splinter I always try the hot olive-oil, and there 
 is quicksilver a-plenty to dance up and down your 
 ear-drums, and burning charcoal to make your 
 soles sizzle. In this cellar you rot until I come 
 back; and. If I find that you have been lying to 
 me, giaur, you'll learn to know some things that 
 your mother never taught youl " 
 
 Selim Bey turned to the stairs. " Is the road 
 still clear, Mustafa?" he asked as he climbed 
 up. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 MESHES OF THE NET 
 
 THE Ladna River, cutting through Go- 
 reno and reaching the valley to the south, 
 changes from a rushing mountain stream 
 full of rapids to a sluggish river spreading over 
 a broad,! shallow bed, half-dammed by the next 
 chain of mountains to the southeast. The small, 
 flat valley thus watered Is a rich rice-growing 
 region, but also one abounding In swamps and 
 treacherous' morasses. 
 
 The road eastward winds down through the 
 flattest portion of the valley and between these 
 marshes, until It passes the Komari Bog, dank- 
 est and deepest of all, a breeding-ground for 
 snakes, lizards, and mosquitoes. Komari Bog 
 had never been known to be dry, and all through 
 the hot summer malaria-laden crowds of mos- 
 quitoes and flies swarmed out on the road and 
 over to the west bank of the valley to feed on 
 Goreno blood. Once past this pest-hole, the 
 road turns sharply to the north, then zig-zags 
 in a steep ascent up the mountain-slope and 
 tKrougH the Tessny Pass, which leads into the 
 
 3S4 
 
MESHES OF THE NET 355 
 
 valley of the Mesta, and so down to the ^Egean. 
 
 Stanko's Inn lay just at the last turn of the 
 road before one rode out on the flat shelf which 
 led across the hills, and at the junction of half- 
 a-dozen donkey-trails, which ended at the smok- 
 ing charcoal-hills that dotted the uplands and 
 glowed at night like a hundred monstrous slum- 
 bering fire-flies. Stanko's Inn had never been 
 considered a dangerous place for insurgents. 
 Its patrons were mostly the charcoal-men, 
 whose wits were as charred and sooty as their 
 faces. Whatever of alertness they had possessed 
 in boyhood was completely buried beneath the 
 common smoke and gloom of their coaling pines, 
 and all graduated alike from tanned youth to 
 tawny manhood and finished in the midnight 
 ebony that marked the neck of the charcoal 
 patriarch. 
 
 Every night they gathered around the little 
 khan to deposit their loads in the sheds and to 
 stable their donkeys before going down to their 
 own homes at the outermost edge of Goreno, 
 and Stanko eked out a subsistence from the care 
 of the donkeys, the frugal cup of coffee the char- 
 coalmen's means could afford, and the infrequent 
 visit of a traveler en route for the west by way 
 of Goreno. 
 
 A foggy, glum, sullen day was Monday. The 
 city-merchant, wrapped in furs, with a shawl 
 around his ears, nodded sociably to the occa- 
 sional peasant he met pacing along the muddy 
 
3J6 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 road. Taking a gulp occasionally from the 
 bottle he carried, he cursed the weather by all 
 the saints in the Greek calendar, and every now 
 and then slowed his horse to a walk and chatted 
 with some of the more intelligent-looking. The 
 unsuspecting way in which the peasants answered 
 his inquiries about Goreno and the charcoal 
 trade assured Selim Bey of the success of his 
 disguise. Mustafa, also on horseback, played 
 irreproachably his role of zapt^ieh body-guard 
 and servant. 
 
 It was three o'clock in the afternoon when 
 the two men rode in front of the donkey-stables 
 and Sclim Bey dismounted. 
 
 " Now, Mustafa," he turned to the zaptieh, 
 " here is your chance. If we catch that rascal, 
 you'll be an iuzhashi [centurion] In a week, 
 with enough gold jingling in your pockets to 
 make anybody dance to your music. Four 
 elbow-lengths tall, Mustafa, and as for girth 
 neither a grasshopper nor a hog. Black eyes 
 and thick black hair: It Is a pity neither of us 
 saw him at the trial, and I was too much occu- 
 pied on the way to Uskub to examine him closely. 
 But keep your eyes open for a priest's cassock 
 and a flowing beard — those are his own words, 
 Mustafa: 
 
 ' Of a priest's cassock and a flowing beard 
 Nor Turk nor Moslem ever is afeared.' 
 
 I'll be on the lookout for him In the Inn. You 
 
MESHES OF THE NET 357 
 
 care for the horses, like a real zaptieh-servint, 
 and watch everyone who comes along the road." 
 
 Then, turning to the cafe-barber-shop in 
 Stanko's courtyard, he yelled at the zaptieh in 
 regular city-merchant style: 
 
 " Don't you let my horse starve either, do 
 you hear? Give him plenty of oats, and have 
 him ready to start on in a couple of hours. I 
 must be over the divide by sundown. Come 
 across to the inn by and by; I may need you. 
 Wake up, you flat-footed zany! Why are you 
 staring at me like an ox at a painted door? " 
 
 Stanko's was not a pretentious cafe, even for 
 a road-side inn. A squarish box of brick and 
 pine boards in front of the inn proper, it re- 
 minded one of a gateman's lodge before a Sa- 
 lonica palace. One side was given over to 
 Stanko's coffee-place and bar-counter combined, 
 and behind it was a door connecting with a sleep- 
 ing-room for the innkeeper and his help. The 
 corner on the other side of Stanko's bar was 
 occupied by the barber-shop end of the estab- 
 lishment. An old arm-chair, with the back 
 sawed off and hinged to the seat, the top part 
 attached to a rope, which could be regulated by 
 a pulley nailed to the wall, served just as well 
 as a Salonica leather-covered, hydraulic-power 
 contraption; and, if the mirror was fly-specked, 
 the razor at least was never dull, and there was 
 always lather enough on hand to shave a grizzly 
 
 Some sentimental chromos of French or Ital- 
 
358 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 ian descent, pasted on the walls, lent color to 
 the whitewashed interior, and in one corner an 
 icon of Saint George killing the Dragon added 
 the finishing touch of art. Cigarette-box eti- 
 quettes were glued in rows over the smoking 
 divan, and on the low tabourets in front were 
 earthen ash-trays, boxes of matches, and empty 
 raki-hottles. A brazier piled high with charcoal 
 glowed in the center of the cafe, a welcome sight 
 on such an afternoon. 
 
 Stanko, the innkeeper, was tending his coffee- 
 pot by the fire, and greeted the fur-clad city- 
 merchant with the typical village cafeji's bow. 
 
 " Saint Demeter bless your liver this after- 
 noon, traveler; may you stay here long and 
 like it I" 
 
 " Your country is colder than ice to-day," 
 Selim grumbled by way of response. ** Get me 
 a hot raki and some sour pickles to top it off; 
 I am tHree-quarters frozen." 
 
 " Stanko keeps no traveler waiting; so help 
 me Saint Petka, you shall have it all in a twin- 
 kle ! " and the Innkeeper stepped down through 
 the trap-door to where he kept his liquors. 
 
 Selim had never been a Mohammedan tee- 
 totaler, and to-day, nervous with excitement, 
 his craving was Irrepressible. Besides, he rea- 
 soned, a little brandy would only make him alert 
 and snappy In his movements. Selim Bey In- 
 tended to enjoy his triumph to the full, so when 
 Stanko returned from the cellar, the Bey almost 
 
MESHES OF THE NET 359 
 
 forgot for a moment the object of his journey 
 up the mountain. 
 
 Having shaken himself up a little bit, the 
 Moslem looked about the place. A younker, 
 evidently Stanko's apprentice in the tonsorial art, 
 was lathering some one's face; but apparently 
 dozing on the divan, his face turned toward the 
 window, lay a priest in a cassock. The beard 
 was flowing enough. At the sound of Selim's 
 voice, the priest sleepily turned toward him and 
 half-opened his eyes, then rolled back and 
 dropped into a doze again. 
 
CHAPTER XLI 
 
 HE THAT PREPARETH THE WAY 
 
 NOT in Selim's most optimistic dreamS 
 had il; occurred to him that he would 
 stumble upon the bash-komitaji napping 
 the moment he entered Stanko's precincts. To 
 be sure, he could not see the man's face clearly, 
 for the hood he had thrown over his priest's cap 
 covered his eyes, but this circumstance only con- 
 vinced Selim Bey that he had his man at last. 
 
 Now, whatever claim Selim himself might lay 
 to membership in the category of idiots, he was 
 well aware that the monk-leader was no fool. 
 That a man who must guess himself to be fiercely 
 hounded should be reckless enough to indulge in 
 the luxury of a public nap was hard to explain 
 on any other supposition than, perhaps, complete 
 physical and mental exhaustion. But, was he 
 really asleep? For the one hasty glance the 
 dozing priest had given him before resuming 
 his slumbers was far too keen and intelligent for 
 a man just disturbed in his nap. 
 
 The entire situation flashed on Selim. The 
 rebel was on the watch for his man from Go- 
 
 360 
 
HE THAT PREPARETH THE WAY 361 
 
 reno, and was simulating sleepiness in order to 
 avoid unnecessary and undesirable conversation 
 with other parties. Evidently he believed that 
 no one would expect to find him in monk's garb 
 in any place, and that no one would be looking 
 for him at all in Stanko's inn. 
 
 " You ubiquitous rascal ! " Selim thought. 
 " If you only knew that your messenger is starv- 
 ing In that cellar this minute, and that a copy of 
 your letter to ' Nimrod' is in my pocket! " He 
 sat down on the divan next to the priestly-dad 
 figure and, absorbing Stanko's intoxicants to 
 thaw his blood, beat his brains to hatch out 
 some scheme of making sure of the komitaji. 
 
 Selim Bey had come to Stanko's in the guise 
 of an icon-dealer. The choice of this particular 
 form of disguise had suggested itself by the dis- 
 guise dictated in the leader's letter to Ivan, for 
 it seemed to him that an icon-dealer had natural 
 claims on the attention of a man in cassock. And 
 once he could get at his man without exciting 
 suspicion, he could trust his revolver and the 
 steel grip of Mustafa's paw. A plan was slowly 
 assuming shape in his mind — a plan that ap- 
 pealed to Selim's sense of humor, besides being 
 safe and effective. 
 
 He asked Stanko to move the brazier to the 
 corner of the room nearer the barber-shop, where 
 he could look Into the street, and seating himself 
 a la Turque on a cushion In front of it, went on 
 sipping at his brandy and looking out of the low, 
 
362' PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 grimy window. Then his eyes turned to the 
 " Saint George killing the Dragon," which beau- 
 tified the corner diagonally opposite. 
 
 " Innkeeper," he asked, " who Is that half- 
 naked bully that's trying to tickle a lizard with 
 his goad in your picture over there?" 
 
 "Half-naked bully tickling a lizard 1 . Good 
 Lord deliver us poor sinners!" Stanko began 
 crossing himself piously. " Be you a Protestant 
 or an unbeliever, traveler, that you don't recog- 
 nize Saint George and the Dragon? Saint 
 George of all saints, sirl And this icon painted 
 by the best icon-painter Goreno ever had, — 
 Dobry Vladimiroff, sir, who died an awful death, 
 the blessed Virgin give peace to his ashes ! " 
 
 " Oh, it is one of his Saint Georges, is it? No 
 wonder I couldn't recognize him. Still, inn- 
 keeper, I meant no harm by my question; my 
 eyes are giving out, and I just couldn't tell what 
 the picture stood for. The Saint Georges I sell, 
 to be sure, are a different matter. You can tell 
 my Saint George at a hundred paces." 
 
 "So 'tis an icon-peddler you be, traveler?" 
 Stanko inquired. 
 
 " An icon-merchant, right you have it. My 
 brother is the Archdeacon of the Saint Pantelei- 
 mon monastery in the holy AtKos; his monks 
 paint the Icons between midnight and sunrise, 
 and every blessed one Is blessed with holy water 
 from the fountain of Saint Pantelelmon under 
 the altar. I sell them, but only to good Chris- 
 
HE THAT PREPARETH THE WAY 363 
 
 tians, to priests and deacons and pious Innkeep- 
 ers, as I may chance to find one in a week's 
 journeying. Our icons are sanctified, and If an 
 unbeliever or a rascal touches them, woe betide 
 the house where the holy icon has been thus In- 
 sulted! Why, Innkeeper, my Saint Georges are 
 almost alive, and the Dragon spits real firel If 
 you touched him during Lent with greasy hands, 
 it would burn your fingers ! " 
 
 *' Saint Petka and holy Saint Calliope have 
 mercy on our souls and deliver us from fires ever- 
 lasting ! " Stanko was a pious idiot and mani- 
 fested in his exclamations a wide acquaintance 
 with the celestial community. 
 
 "You are a good Christian, innkeeper? 
 Stanko is your name?" 
 
 " Stanko is my name, traveler." 
 
 " Well, here comes my zaptieh-servznt Now 
 then, you Armenian tortoise," he shouted through 
 the window, "where have you been lolling all 
 this while? Didn't I tell you that there was a 
 pious innkeeper here that wanted one of our real 
 live Saint Georges with the fire-spitting Dragons? 
 Bring a couple of them over here, and have him 
 choose the one he likes best! " 
 
 The reclining figure in the cassock hardly 
 stirred during this speech of Selim's. 
 
 ** Yes, Stanko," the Bey continued, " if you 
 wish to find out whether a man is cheating you, 
 just get him to touch the dragon's tongue with 
 his third finger, and watch it blister. My icons 
 
364 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 never lie. Fact is, I can't sell you any, no matter 
 how much money you may offer for it, until you 
 have touched the dragon yourself while chanting 
 the ' Gospody pomiluy ' of the holy liturgy. If 
 it doesn't burn you, you may have it free for 
 nothing and without cost." 
 
 "What! The Saint George icon?" 
 
 " Why, yes, provided you do your share in an 
 experiment I am going to try." 
 
 The door opened, and Mustafa walked in 
 noisily, with a package bulging from under his 
 coat. Selim noticed the napping priest suddenly 
 turn around and shoot a glance at the new-comer 
 and then continue his snoring. Stanko grinned 
 at Selim Bey and nodded toward the dozing 
 figure : 
 
 " A priest's son is the devil's grandson nowa- 
 days, traveler. God alone knows where he has 
 been last night. Said he came from Goreno, 
 where he had been visiting some sick parishion- 
 ers, and that now he was going on a pilgrimage 
 to the Great on High I Well, I don't know about 
 that — and far be it from me, merchant, to speak 
 ill of a priest in cassock, the Virgin Mary bless 
 my sinful heart! " 
 
 " Well, that's what I was coming to, Stanko," 
 the Bey continued. He relieved the servant of 
 his package and beckoned to the innkeeper to sit 
 down. Selim Bey moved his cushion nearer the 
 old man and began whispering in his ear: 
 
 " Here is what I think, Stanko. When I was 
 
HE THAT PREPARETH THE WAY 365 
 
 at Saint Pantelelmon's last time, my brother, 
 Archdeacon Jeremiah, told me : ' Look out 
 wherever you go, Brother; the Evil One is 
 abroad.' ' The Evil One ?' says I. ' Yes,' he 
 answers, ' the very Satan himself. The Lord 
 has given him leave to travel all over Macedonia 
 in the garb of a priest and see whomsoever he can 
 snare. The Lord wishes to find out how many 
 of his servants can tell each other from the Devil. 
 Pretty hard thing to do with some of them. 
 Brother 1 ' That's what my brother the Arch- 
 deacon told mc." 
 
 '* By Saint Onuphry and by Saint Sophrony I 
 And have you seen him anywhere in your 
 travels?" Stanko was crossing himself and 
 mumbling the " Gospody pomiluy," — God have 
 mercy on us. 
 
 "5AA/f/" Sclim cautioned. "Notsoloudl I 
 asked my brother the Archdeacon : ' And how 
 can I recognize him? Shall I try my Dragon on 
 him and blister his fingers?' 'By no means,' 
 says he, ' the Saint Georges are no good except 
 for mortal men.' But I had a dream last night, 
 and my brother the Archdeacon said, ' I saw 
 the Holy Parchment of Saint Panteleimon curl 
 up on the thirty-third page. I opened the book 
 first thing after liturgy, and this is what I read: 
 " By his beard shalt thou know him, the Evil 
 One that keepeth awake in the night and sleepeth 
 in the daytime with the owl. By his beard and 
 his cassock shalt thou know him. Thou shalt 
 
366 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 bind his feet and his hands, and his eyes shalt 
 thou put to confusion. For a sleeping servant 
 is unto the Lord an abomination." Whatever 
 that means, Brother,' my brother the Archdeacon 
 says, ' whatever that means, I have not pondered 
 yet.' 
 
 " Well, Stanko," Selim continued, " you feel 
 where the wind is blowing? I have been watch- 
 ing him over there on the smoking-divan, and 
 if he doesn't answer the Holy Book of Saint 
 Panteleimon to an iota I Now, innkeeper, as you 
 are a Christian and an honest man, help me cap- 
 ture the Devil, and the St. George is yours for 
 nothing." 
 
 " Holy St. Martyr Polyeucte I Traveler, ex- 
 cuse me, I must go and fix up some things in 
 the inn." 
 
 " If you don't, Stanko," the Bey ignored his 
 remark, — " if you don't help, your inn will be 
 accursed from this day forth and forevermore; 
 for the Devil damns everything that he lays his 
 head upon." 
 
 " Good St. Ignace Bogonos and St. Gregory 
 Bogoslov have mercy on our souls ! " Stanko 
 prayed. " What do you want me to do, kind 
 brother of the Archdeacon?" 
 
 " Talk aloud about something else, and get me 
 some strong hempen rope and a dish of red pep- 
 per. Then, when I try to bind him, you just 
 throw the red pepper in his eyes, and my zaptieh 
 will give him all he wants in the way of pummel- 
 
HE THAT PREPARETH THE WAY 367 
 
 ing. And listen, innkeeper," — Sellm spoke aloud 
 for effect, — " get me some cucumber pickles 
 while you are about it." 
 
 " In a second, traveler. Saint Ilarlon preserve 
 us 1 " Stanko answered. 
 
 A raucous voice from the barber chiair scolded 
 at the apprentice: 
 
 " Steady, you green-haired little monkey, 
 steady! What do you think you arc about — 
 plucking a rooster or sheep-shearing? Just dare 
 scratch me, and I'll skin your hide for you I " 
 And then, as Stanko returned, " Innkeeper, 
 you've got to do it yourself I I am not going to 
 let this puppy scratch at my face another min- 
 ute 1'^ 
 
 "There, there, customer," the hostler humored 
 him, " he is doing his best. I can't shave you 
 myself, because my right thumb is sore. — Gosho, 
 you good-for-nothing rascal, don't you dare 
 scratch the customer, or I'll pack you off to your 
 father again I " 
 
 Selim looked up In surprise : he had not noticed 
 this stranger before, and he felt bothered to find 
 anyone else in the inn. But the man looked harm- 
 less enough, if a little splenetic. He vi^as well 
 dressed, in fact just a little dandified in appear- 
 ance, and to judge from the attention he was be- 
 stowing on his lathered face, something of a fop. 
 Scarcely a man to care mixing In a fight, Selim 
 concluded, and turned his eyes again toward the 
 napping priest, who was beginning to get restless. 
 
368 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 It was a mere matter of overpowering him; that 
 was easy enough, with Mustafa on hand. But 
 Selim Bey wished to capture his man and get 
 away without any one being the wiser. He had 
 learned already that it was better to move 
 in the dark, and his very expedition to the inn on 
 such an important mission, alone, without Mu- 
 rad's knowledge, could be excused only by a spec- 
 tacular return that same night. 
 
 Moreover Murad's son did not know the po- 
 litical leanings of his superstitious innkeeper, or, 
 for that matter, of the city-man in the chair. It 
 was safer to make an ally of Stanko in a holy 
 fight against the Devil than risk having him as 
 an enemy in a plot to catch Him That Prepareth 
 the Way. Once he had his man tied and help- 
 less, he could afEord to assert his authority. 
 
 Stanko brought in the rope and pepper, casting 
 a fearful glance at the " Devil," and, before the 
 napping man in cassock had had a chance to real- 
 ize what was happening, one quick blow on the 
 part of Mustafa had pinned him to the divan. 
 While the innkeeper dashed a handful of red 
 pepper into his face, Selim Bey bound him hand 
 and foot with the long rope. At the cry of the 
 prisoner, the city man in the chair made a sudden 
 jerk, and the apprentice almost slashed off his 
 ear. Gosho had overheard some of his master's 
 conversation with the icon-dealer, too, which 
 partly accounted for his nervousness. The lad 
 had all the superstition of the mountain-born. 
 
HE THAT PREPARETH THE WAY 369 
 
 The city-man did not interfere. It would have 
 done no good, anyway: he was alone against a 
 lot of religious fanatics. Or did he have reasons 
 of his own for not caring to mix in? In Mace- 
 donia people often have reasons for minding their 
 own business. 
 
 " Now hurry up I " he snapped at the appren- 
 tice. " Do you think I am going to camp in this 
 chair? 'Tend to your shaving 1 " 
 
 " Na zdravie, sir, good luck to you ! " mur- 
 mured Gosho the apprentice as he wiped his cus- 
 tomer's neck with a hot towel. " I don't mean 
 any harm, sir, but one does get nervous some- 
 times." 
 
 The city-man tossed a piaster on the chair and 
 turned toward the other side of the room. 
 
 It was a spectacle. The man in cassock was 
 on the floor, sneezing and cursing in his impo- 
 tence. The three men laughed derisively at him. 
 But young Gosho looked from a distance: the 
 Devil had terrors for his superstitious heart even 
 when a captive. 
 
 "The Lord Is too high and the Sultan is too 
 far, they say," the innkeeper sagely reflected. 
 " But who'd have thought, icon-dealer, that I was 
 born to see the very Devil himself napping in 
 my own cafe?" 
 
 " Such is life, Stanko," Selim answered. " ' Of 
 a priest's cassock and a Devil's beard, what icon- 
 dealer ever is af eared? ' — if he has a brother 
 like my brother the Archdeacon ? " 
 
370 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 "How long till sunset, innkeeper?" the city- 
 man inquired. 
 
 Stanko stepped to the window and consulted 
 the sky. " Four hours, traveler." 
 
 "You are going somewhere, sir?" Selim Bey 
 queried, anxious to have as few people as pos- 
 sible around while he examined his prisoner's 
 pockets. 
 
 " Yes, I must be In Goreno by sundown." The 
 city-man's voice was very raucous. 
 
 " Let me go, I tell you, madman ! " the man 
 in cassock was protesting. " What in God's name 
 do you take me for? " 
 
 " In God's name we take you for the Devil," 
 Selim explained derisively. " But in my own 
 name I take you for a wandering dreamer from 
 the Mount of Tribulation, for a rascal having 
 dealings with the ' Great on High.' Do you ever 
 remember your love-letters, He-That-Prepareth- 
 the-Way? " 
 
 "Oh-ho! That's who I am, eh?" he looked 
 at his captor in amazement. Then the shaved 
 man's eye caught his, and the prisoner grasped 
 the unspoken message. 
 
 "So that's who I am!" the " Nimrod of 
 Macedon" repeated. 
 
 " So that's who you are I " retorted the Bey, 
 " and this is what you carry! " He pulled out of 
 an inside pocket from under the victim's shirt a 
 bundle of papers and some sealing-wax. 
 
 " Don't look at these papers, innkeeper," Selim 
 
HE THAT PREPARETH THE WAY 371 
 
 cautioned; "they'll give you bad dreams 1 You 
 are going to Goreno soon, friend? " he turned to 
 the city-man, who was apparently hesitating near 
 the doorway. 
 
 " Yes, must be going presently," the traveler 
 answered. " Abraham Effendi is waiting for me 
 in Goreno to close a deal in rice." 
 
 Selim Bey offered the rice-merchant a glass of 
 'raki. The latter merely touched it with his lips. 
 
 "You are also going back this evening." 
 
 There was no question in his voice, but Selim 
 Bey answered. 
 
 "Yes, as soon as I have made heads or tails 
 «of this devilish scribble in his papers." 
 
 The merchant smiled. " So you really think 
 you have the Devil there ? " 
 
 " Gosho, go and get me another flask of rakif " 
 Selim ordered the apprentice. 
 
 Stanko had gone to the inn proper to look after 
 the wants of a peasant who planned to stay over- 
 night. " The Devil he is for these cattle," he 
 explained, "but, my name being Selim Bey of 
 Goreno, you can guess what sort of a devil this 
 man must be. It was worth some original in- 
 trigue to capture him. It will be a sensation in 
 the konak. to-morrow morning when Selim Bey 
 Effendi kicks the iron gates open and walks in 
 with the trophy — ^what? " 
 
 " It will be a sensation, yes. Well, good road 
 to you. Bey Effendi; Allah take care of you, and 
 the Devil will look after your baggage ! " 
 
CHAPTER XLII 
 
 THE KOMARI BOG 
 
 SELIM was losing patience. " For the third 
 time : Did you see your ' Nimrod ' or 
 didn't you?" But the prisoner did not 
 look up. " I could open that clam-shell mouth 
 of yours on short notice, but when I do I want 
 to be your whole audience. Hardly any one has 
 been here to-day, but who knows what a rabble 
 of charcoal devils will be around by sundown I " 
 
 Slowly the minutes passed as the Bey was strug- 
 gling with the meaningless jargon of his victim's 
 papers. He turned to his zaptieh and said in a 
 low voice: 
 
 " What do you think, Mustafa ? I'd rather be 
 through with the farce and have this thing tied 
 to the post next that low peasant in our cellar. 
 That idiotic innkeeper may catch on to our game, 
 and I don't know his persuasion on matters po- 
 litical. Besides — that rich merchant; we should 
 have held on to him. I was foolish to blab so 
 much. I want to try my monkey-wrench argu- 
 ment with this Devil and see whether it will 
 
 372 
 
THE KOMARI BOG 373 
 
 loosen his jaw. Ho, you little one, we are go- 
 ing I " he shouted at the apprentice. 
 
 Gosho loaded up with a dozen bottles of cog- 
 nac and raki, and the Bey and Mustafa dragged 
 out the man in cassock. 
 
 " I wonder whether that hunter from the 
 Pirin is coming here after all. I'll wager he 
 didn't get his letter; what do you think, Mus- 
 tafa?" 
 
 " He did get it, don't you worry." It was al- 
 most the first time the prisoner had spoken. 
 
 "You fool, answer my questions when you're 
 the one asked I " and Selim's boot dug into his 
 prisoner's stomach. They were just outside the 
 gate when the innkeeper appeared from the other 
 side of the courtyard. 
 
 " Hola, Stanko, can you guess what I am going 
 to do with him? Take him straight back to Go- 
 reno and have him branded as the Devil in public, 
 then send an account of it all to the Exarch in 
 Constantinople. They'll make me an archdeacon 
 for it, and maybe an abbot. If they do, I'll take 
 you over to my monastery to look after the 
 winery — what? " 
 
 "But the Saint Georges ? " Stanko inquired. 
 
 " I didn't want to open the package in the 
 Devil's presence, but you'll find them there on the 
 divan. They'll pay for your raki and pickles." 
 
 "Saint Chrisanthe preserve you, and Saint 
 TKeophan multiply your children I Na dobur 
 put — good road to you I " 
 
374 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 " Zhogom!" the Bey replied in peasant fash- 
 ion, and Stanko entered the cafe. The others 
 turned toward the livery stable. 
 
 "Where is your horse, Bey Effendi?" Mus- 
 tafa noticed the empty stall the moment he en- 
 tered the stable. A folded piece of paper was 
 nailed on the stall-bar. Selim snatched it, and 
 the same hand-printed sort of message In Bul- 
 garian greeted his eyes : 
 
 "To the Devil in Stanko's Inn, Care of Archdeacon 
 'Ananias's Brother. From the Mount of Tribulation — Greet- 
 ing! He That Prepareth the Way sent you a message last 
 Saturday by a man who never returned. It was a wise 
 whim of mine to change my disguise; I knew you without 
 being recognized myself. But the little fool that shaved me 
 took too long a time to it, else the Bey would have found 
 us together. That brat's slow bungling caused your capture. 
 But fear not, my Nimrod. You are worth nothing to the 
 'icon-dealer' and Selim Bey will not have Murad Pasha 
 laugh at his new story. It is not cowardice that makes me 
 desert you; I am too much needed now. Keep your mouth 
 locked; and may your papers be never deciphered by Selim 
 and his like. I leave you in your captor's pocket, but no- 
 body wants you; you are useless baggage and that's your 
 safety. I have bartered my two-mule carriage for the Ef- 
 fendi's horse. A fine animal. It will carry me where Selim 
 can't even sniff me. 
 
 " ' Of a rice-merchant with a shaven beard, 
 Nor Turk nor Moslem ever is af eared ! ' " 
 
 Selim Bey re-read the message, nonplussed, 
 but only for a moment. Then he stuck the letter 
 in front of the captive's nose. 
 
 " Read it, you crafty fox ! Read this, and see 
 
THE KOMARI BOG 375 
 
 if you haven't found your match I Who'd ever 
 have thought that rice-merchant was your man! 
 Oh, no, you are not the bash-komitaji; you are 
 just plain Nimrod of Macedonl That is, if I am 
 idiot enough to believe what the real Nimrod 
 has written on this rag of paper ! But you won't 
 eel out this time by any such trickery. When I 
 hang you upside down in my cellar, you'll tell me 
 a different story." 
 
 Ivan the Huntsman did not reply. His sur- 
 prise at Boyan's daring letter was second only to 
 his amazement at the Turk's wrong interpretation 
 of it. Of one thing he felt sure — Boyan, and 
 hence the money, was still safe. 
 
 " Nimrod's " spirits rose, and the efficient way 
 in which he met Selim's threats made the latter 
 waver a little. Who could tell but that the letter 
 in his hands was actually penned by the real bash- 
 komitajif Selim had never seen the famous 
 Huntsman at close range; was he going to play 
 the fool again and get the wrong man, as he had 
 done ten days before at the cave? He wished he 
 had not drunk so much. Which one was the real 
 bird? If the thief of his horse were the leader, 
 he had gone to Poliany, the nearest insurgent cen- 
 ter outside of Goreno where assistance might be 
 obtained. Selim knew of Macedonian trickeries 
 too well to take much stock in the final way in 
 which the writer of the letter consigned the pris- 
 oner of Stanko's inn to the kindness of Destiny. 
 
 Even in case his first interpretation of the 
 
376 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 message was the correct one, however, still the 
 Huntsman of the Pirins would have all the better 
 reason for rousing up a relief party in Poliany 
 to save the captured komitaji. If only the iuz- 
 bashi [centurion] there could somehow be stirred 
 into action! Selim Bey wished his rebellious bag- 
 gage were safely caged in the blacksmith cellar. 
 It was fast thinking, and the conclusion reached 
 Avas a bold one. 
 
 " Mustafa," Selim ordered the zaptieh, 
 " mount your horse and gallop the life out of 
 him straight to Poliany! Rouse the commander 
 to turn the whole country downside-up and cap- 
 ture that rice-merchant. I shall drive directly to 
 Goreno with this baggage and wait for you and 
 your news in our jail-cellar. Off with you, Mus- 
 tafa. Think of the stakes, and don't lose a 
 minute I " 
 
 But hardly had Mustafa vanished up the road 
 leading to the little village of Poliany, where a 
 Turkish garrison guarded the eastern pass across 
 the Pirins, when Selim Bey realized the complex- 
 ity of his situation. Inside of two minutes he 
 discovered the immediate reason for the rice-mer- 
 chant's making away with his horse. One of the 
 two mules that was to draw him and his prisoner 
 to Goreno was lame and would not budge an 
 inch. 
 
 The afternoon was growing gloomier every 
 minute ; a thick, pulpy fog was settling all about. 
 Mud-bespattered peasants with their charcoal- 
 
THE KOMARI BOG 377 
 
 laden donkeys kept passing in and out of the 
 sheds, and hurrying on down to their huts in the 
 valley. A couple of them stopped for a moment 
 or two in front of the stable, and stared curi- 
 ously at the puzzled Bey and his prisoner. In 
 a flash the Turk had reached a decision. He 
 jumped at one of the peasants whose donkey 
 looked the sturdier: 
 
 "Here, you, come with mel" 
 
 He dumped the charcoal load on the ground 
 and mated the peasant's donkey with the rice- 
 merchant's mule to tug the rickety carriage. The 
 charcoal-peddler needed only to look from the 
 barrel of Selim's long revolver to the bound fig- 
 ure of the man in cassock right inside the door, 
 to lose any idea of opposition which may have 
 at first suggested itself to his peasant brain. 
 Without a word, he climbed to the driver's seat 
 and picked up the reins. 
 
 The Turk lined his conveyance with Stanko's 
 bottles; and then a Mohammedan fancy sug- 
 gested a move characteristic of Selim's eternal 
 failing for the humorous. 
 
 " Here, you priest, listen to me ! Wasn't there 
 a bishop once that rode into Jerusalem on the 
 back of an ass?" There was in his voice the 
 scornful note of pretended ignorance. 
 
 The Huntsman did not look up. 
 
 "You don't answer, cur? You, charcoal dirt, 
 can't you talk either?" 
 
 " Once I heard the priest chant about some- 
 
378 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 thing of that sort, Effendi," the peasant ven- 
 tured. 
 
 "Well, then, this time we'll have the Devil 
 himself riding into Goreno on your donkey's 
 back ! " And together the charcoalman and the 
 Bey piled the bulky frame of the prisoner on 
 the animal's back, fastened on like a load of 
 charcoal. Ivan the Huntsman protested loudly. 
 
 " I don't want to hear another croak from 
 you until we enter my cellar ! Shut up ! " and 
 Selim pulled a dirty, greasy rag from Inside the 
 Stable and gagged his victim. 
 
 " Now off with you as fast as you can drive, 
 right straight to Goreno ! " he yelled to the char- 
 coalman. " I'll hold this revolver pointed at 
 your neck, so don't you dare play any dirty games 
 on me I " 
 
 The peasant's donkey announced the depart- 
 ure of the improvised train In shrill, plaintive 
 braying. 
 
 " So you are a charcoal peddler, eh? " The 
 team was beginning the descent. 
 
 " My face would give me the lie If I said nay, 
 Effendi ! " The peasant spoke in the soft-vow- 
 eled dialect of the uplander, which Selim under- 
 stood but did not speak. 
 
 A tawny charcoalman he was : his sooty, smoky 
 face, plastered with the carbon dirt of a hundred 
 charred pine-trees, bore but a distant resemblance 
 to a human countenance. A black, greasy sheep- 
 skin kalpak covered the major part of his era- 
 
THE KOMARI BOG 379 
 
 hium. Sunken beneath his singed eyebrows, a 
 pair of glassy orbs blinked with the colorless stu- 
 pidity which only five centuries of thraldom can 
 stamp upon the physiognomy of a race. He was 
 taciturn, and conversed readily only with his 
 donkey. 
 
 The rickety patter of the carriage disposed 
 Selim Bey for the taste of Stanko's cognacs and 
 raki. Bottle after bottle of cognac dropped by 
 the roadside. 
 
 The last bottle would have followed its prede- 
 cessors, but the revolver slipped by the roadside 
 instead, without the Turk's being any the wiser. 
 Raki and cognac proved a stupefying combina- 
 tion. Selim could think of nothing but Goreno, 
 and his tongue rattled continually: 
 
 " Listen here, look, how is it now, how is it — 
 far to Goreno? Is it far to Goreno — Goreno, 
 look you, or I'll blow your brains out for you ! — 
 
 I'll — I'll " and the Bey brandished the empty 
 
 bottle. The charcoalman noted the weapon, 
 whistled, and answered in a drawl: 
 
 "Three turns, a down-you-go, an easy climb, 
 and there you be, Effendi!" 
 
 Twilight fell over the Ladna valley, and in 
 less than an hour the evening fog was so thick 
 that the driver could see hardly more of the Bey 
 than a pair of alcohol-glowing eyeballs. The 
 turnpike was deserted and the Turk was drunk. 
 
 " Get up there 1 Get up7 Just a little while 
 longer, brother I " the charcoalman yelled to his 
 
38q PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 donkey, and before Selim could notice where he 
 was, the carriage had turned to the left of the 
 Goreno road and was creaking down a lane 
 across muddy pastures and rice-fields and into the 
 bog-marshes of the Ladna River. The mismated 
 team had some trouble in pulling the carriage in 
 concord. A mudhole that almost upset the car- 
 riage roused the drunken Turk, and he yelled 
 at the driver: 
 
 " Hey, there, you, I'll blow out your brains, 
 I'U! How it is, is it — far to Goreno?" > 
 
 " One more turn, then down-you-go, and there 
 you'll lie, Effendi." 
 
 The Moslem grunted and relapsed into taci- 
 turnity. 
 
 " Cheer up, my donkey, cheer up, my brother I "' 
 the driver called to his donkey. Except for an 
 occasional nasal grunt, the gagged Huntsman on 
 the donkey's back called no attention to his loca- 
 tion. Pretty soon the loose-jointed carriage be- 
 gan pattering down a rather steep incline. 
 Through the fog the brandy-dimmed orbs of 
 Selim Bey saw a flash of water some hundred 
 elbow-lengths below. 
 
 " Look out there 1 " he yelled. " Down there, 
 you, I'll blow out your brains! See how it 
 flickers. What's that — hidden-treasure lights?" 
 
 " Hidden frogs' eyes ! " the driver laughed 
 back. "That's the down-you-go I was talking 
 about." 
 
 " It didn't shine that way to me this morning 
 
THE KOMARI BOG 381 
 
 when I came from Goreno. Goreno — how — is 
 it far to Goreno? " 
 
 "Don't suppose it did. Get up, my donkey 1 
 Cheer up, my brother, we're almost there 1 " and 
 the peasant lashed the rice-merchant's mule. 
 
 The charcoalman's donkey did not seem to like 
 his comrade's company. As a result, the impro- 
 vised team had no definite policy in their work. 
 " Get up, there I " bellowed the driver. Splash 
 — splash went the team, and the carriage seemed 
 to sink all of a sudden into a quicksand quagmire. 
 " Look out, you charcoal devil ! Are you bog- 
 ging me ? I'll blow out your brains for you I " 
 and the intoxicated Moslem jammed the empty 
 bottle against the peasant's neck. " Is this Go- 
 reno — or Ladna River?" 
 
 " Both are pretty close, EfFendi, but this is just 
 a mud-pool. Haw there ! " 
 
 For some little time the driver busied himself 
 with the carriage wheels; hammering at one in 
 particular; then he jumped to his seat again, 
 lashed the mule savagely and let go. 
 
 The team plunged ahead and the carriage 
 sailed into the fen. Then suddenly, without any 
 warning whatever, something snapped. The left 
 front wheel splashed into the marsh, the rig lost 
 equilibrium, and the Turk yawped: 
 "Hey, you charcoal devil I" 
 "There we are, my donkey 1 Here we are, 
 my brother! " the driver yelled, and there was a 
 new ring in his voice. He jumped on to the car- 
 
382 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 riage pole, cursing and shouting in turns, but not 
 for very long. The peasant with the mud-be- 
 spattered face and the colorless, blinking eyes had 
 unharnessed the team, mounted the rice-mer- 
 chant's mule, and was leading away his own don- 
 key with the human baggage loaded on it before 
 the inebriate could realize what was happening. 
 The carriage began filling up with clammy, 
 creepy fen-mire that gripped Selim's feet in an 
 icy clutch and shook him from his brandy-stupor. 
 The Moslem leaped from his seat with an oath 
 and aimed his empty whisky-bottle at the dark 
 figures in the mist. 
 
 " Cool your head, Selim Bey! Cool your head 
 and warm your feet!" The voice was a little 
 way off to the left, and it was no longer a dialect 
 that the charcoalman spoke, but pure Bulgarian, 
 the Bulgarian of Selim's two messages. "You 
 are half-an-hour's swim from dry-land, and an- 
 other two hours' walking from a living soul after 
 we are gone. It is freezing now, Effendi, but the 
 Evil One doesn't bother folks in cold weather! " 
 
 " Hey there, you charcoalman ! You'll grease 
 the rope for this ! " 
 
 "Don't slander the trade, Selim Bey. I am 
 a revolutionist by training, a monk by faith, and 
 a bash-komitaji by profession. But my brother- 
 in-freedom is groaning on the donkey's back. A 
 cold nightmare to you, Selim Bey, and may the 
 charcoalmen bless me for ridding the land of 
 another blood-sucker ! " 
 
THE KOMARI BOG 383 
 
 And the two figures vanished Into the fog. 
 
 The wheel-rims had sunk out of sight. The 
 Turk stared wildly around. He could see no- 
 body, hear nobody. Far away In the distance his 
 eyes could catch the faintest glimmer of what he 
 Imagined was Goreno. All around him was that 
 glassy, creepy, serpentine Ice-glaze of the treach- 
 erous Komarl Bog. 
 
 And the carriage slowly sank, sank. 
 
CHAPTER XLIII 
 
 THOSE WHO PAY 
 
 4 N hour before the heavy gates of the Go- 
 A\ reno konak swung open, a shivering figure 
 ■^ "^ on horseback rode up and down the public 
 square, trying to keep warm and wear away the 
 time. Intermittently he banged on the iron gates ; 
 but old Mohammed the porter was not one to be 
 disturbed before opening time. Mustafa cursed 
 the old man's dullness, sprang again on his horse, 
 and rode furiously away. Ten minutes later he 
 came back and banged again at the bolted en- 
 trance. Had he been anxious to rouse the entire 
 konak, he might have succeeded in gaining admit- 
 tance, but Mustafa wanted to see the Pasha of 
 Goreno and only the Pasha if possible. 
 
 Obedient to Selim's orders, Mustafa had gal- 
 loped up to the little village of Poliany, situated 
 on a small upland plain just outside the narrow 
 defile that marked the highest point of the pass. 
 Its nearness to the mountains and its important 
 situation had made it a favorite rendezvous for 
 brigands and rebels alike, until the Turkish gov- 
 ernment established a local garrison there. After 
 
 384 
 
THOSE WHO PAY 385 
 
 that the population dwindled away, and now Po- 
 liany, half an hour's ride from Stanko's inn, con- 
 sisted of a Turkish garrison, some abandoned 
 cottages, and little else. 
 
 Enver Effendi responded to Mustafa's alarm 
 at once, and set the entire Poliany garrison to 
 ransacking the village and the mountain-side in 
 search of the rice-merchant. Mustafa joined in 
 the chase for a while, but his interests lay in 
 Goreno, and, helping himself to a fresh horse, 
 he galloped back, hoping still to overtake Selim 
 on his way to town. 
 
 But he met no one on the road, and it was 
 late evening when he entered Goreno. Every- 
 thing was as bolted and quiet as on any other 
 night; the konak gates were barred and only the 
 night-watchmen were abroad. If Selim Bey had 
 entered Goreno at all, he had evidently done so 
 very quietly; perhaps he had taken his captive 
 directly to the cellar under the old blacksmith 
 shop. 
 
 Mustafa shoved open the door and stopped; 
 no sign nor light crept through the rough board 
 floor. He lifted the trap-door with an uneasy 
 misgiving in the back of his head, and crept down 
 the stairs. In the flickering light of his match, he 
 saw only the bound, gagged figure of the peasant, 
 crouched in a wretched heap on the mud-floor, 
 Mustafa fished a dark lantern from under the 
 stairway, lighted it, and turned its glare on the 
 peasant. 
 
386 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 " Has Selim Bey or any one been here to- 
 night?" he demanded. The peasant moaned 
 but did not answer. Mustafa untied the band- 
 age across his mouth and tossed it aside with 
 impatience. 
 
 *' Now squeal, you rat I " he snarled. " Who 
 has been here this evening?" 
 
 " No one, Effendi," the man said, his voice 
 husky and scarcely more than a whisper. 
 
 "No one?" Mustafa swore. "Allah curse 
 your ffiaur spawn if I don't find my master 1 " 
 
 Forgetting the lantern, forgetting to re-gag the 
 peasant, Mustafa stumbled up the stairs and 
 mounted his horse. 
 
 The fog had lifted as night came on, and a 
 white moon had risen, casting long, creepy tree- 
 shadows across the road. Mustafa galloped out 
 of the quiet town, past the crowding huts of the 
 charcoal burners, and out along the marshes. 
 He intended riding straight to Stanko's inn and 
 tracing Selim Bey from there. Murad's eldest 
 had chosen him for his private aide only a few 
 days before, when the zaptieh returned from his 
 investigation at Poosty, and before he had given 
 any detailed report of his trip to the Pasha. 
 Puffed with the responsibility and honor of his 
 position, he was eager to serve his master. 
 
 He reined up so suddenly that the horse almost 
 sat upon his haunches. Something lay beside the 
 road gleaming in the moonlight. Mustafa swung 
 from his saddle and picked it up; he turned it 
 
THOSE WHO PAY 387 
 
 over and over in his hand. There could be no 
 mistake about it: Murad Pasha himself had pre- 
 sented that pistol to Selim Bey. The zaptieh 
 drew the reins through his arm and walked on 
 slowly. A hundred paces farther on he picked 
 up an empty raki bottle, the bottom of it was 
 still covered with fresh dregS. 
 
 Mustafa looked carefully at the middle of the 
 road; — the soft mud showed donkey-tracks and 
 the cloven hoof-prints of buffalo and oxen, but 
 there was only one carriage trail. The aide 
 turned about and followed it along the bog; at 
 a short distance beyond the place where he had 
 found the pistol, the zig-zaggy wheel-tracks 
 turned squarely from the main road-bed into an 
 abandoned trail across the morass. Mustafa 
 tied his horse a short distance from the highway 
 and went forward, picking his steps gingerly over 
 the wafer-like coating of ice, and his ears on the 
 alert for the least sound. 
 
 The creepy expanse of the fen in the cold white 
 moonlight appalled him; Selim Bey must have 
 been as drunk as a lunatic to allow himself to 
 be carried here. Who had his driver been, any- 
 way? Or had he had any? The Turk exam- 
 ined the hoof-prints, crystallized now in the soft 
 mud. No mule ever made as small a track as 
 the one on the left; it could only be a donkey's. 
 Mustafa started running forward in his anxiety, 
 lost his footing, and floundered over his boot-top 
 in a mud-hole rut. The slipping, sliding hoof- 
 
388 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 prints ahead told him how hardly the carriage 
 had been yanked on. 
 
 Then all at once the wheel-tracks ceased. Be- 
 fore and around him glimmered the freezing 
 phosphorescence of the Komari Bog, with dark 
 tree-shadows writhing on its moonlit surface. 
 
 The zaptieh made a trumpet of his hands and 
 sent a long wail over the waste: 
 
 "Selim Bey, Effendil" 
 
 " Effendi," came back the echo of his call. 
 
 The bleak silence gripped at the zaptieh's 
 throat, choked him. He felt his very heart curd- 
 ling within him. He turned on his heel and 
 scarcely breathed until he was back again by the 
 road, untying his horse. 
 
 Old Stanko was snoring noisily when Mustafa 
 pounded him out of bed and ordered him to tell 
 him how Selim had left the inn. The cold touch 
 of the revolver between his eyes did not serve to 
 sharpen Stanko's wits, but in the midst of his 
 pleas for mercy and prayers to all the calendared 
 saints, the Moslem got his story. With a curse 
 by way of explanation, he was again in his saddle, 
 on a reckless gallop for the Goreno konak. 
 
 It was five o'clock in the morning when Mus- 
 tafa's final banging brought the snail-foot Mo- 
 hammed to the gate. 
 
 "Well now, what, Mustafa?" the old fellow 
 began slowly. But Mustafa did not stop to an- 
 swer. 
 
 The urgent message from his eldest son's aide 
 
THOSE WHO PAY 389 
 
 brought Murad into a small reception room in 
 his dressing robe. Mustafa dropped on his knees 
 before the father and jerked out his story in 
 snatches of sentences. Murad listened to the 
 very end in stolid silence; but when the zaptieh 
 had finished, and had dared to murmur his opin- 
 ion as to the probable end of the business, a 
 heart-broken sob shook the old Pasha, and he 
 pressed his face to the wall. Whatever else he 
 was, Selim was his firstborn, and the only son 
 that had grown to manhood. When he turned 
 around, his face was livid, and his bloodshot eyes 
 glared frenziedly from under his puffy lids. He 
 clenched his fist and shook it tremblingly in the 
 very face of a Fate that seemed at last to betray 
 him. 
 
 " Goreno shall pay for this," he said in thick, 
 guttural tones. " Goreno and all the Ladna dis^ 
 trict shall run blood as the Komari Bog runs 
 water 1" 
 
 Mustafa shrank against the wall, terrified at 
 the old man's outburst of wrath; but Murad did 
 not notice him. He stood still for a moment, 
 then rushed out of the room. 
 
 Fatma, Mihirmah, and Zayleh were already 
 at breakfast when Fatma's small slave girl came 
 running in, her eyes bulging with fright: 
 
 " Our master, Murad Pasha Effendi, is dark 
 of countenance, and will speak with the Hanoutns 
 alone," she cried. 
 
 The women sprang up, alarmed at the child's 
 
390 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 fright, and the slaves, who were serving the 
 breakfast, vanished into the corridors. Zayleh 
 shrank into a corner at the sight of Murad's dis- 
 torted face, but Fatma, with a vague premoni- 
 tion, ran to meet him. Mihirmah stood perfectly 
 still, astonished and curious. 
 
 " My son? " Selim's mother cried. " Tell me, 
 Murad, where is my son?" 
 
 The suddenness of the question staggered her 
 husband, and for a moment speech failed hira. 
 Then he clasped her arm and held It, firmly but 
 not roughly. For the first time in many years 
 Murad of Goreno turned back to his first wife. 
 
 " Fatma," he said, " we have no son." 
 
 The woman staggered. " Murad," she 
 breathed, wide-eyed, "what has he done? 
 Where is he? You have not cast him out?" 
 
 " Cast him out?" Murad laughed In his bit- 
 terness. " No, I have not cast him out." 
 
 " He Is not ? " But Fatma read the truth 
 
 In Murad's withered face. The room swam 
 about her; she reached out aimlessly for some 
 support. 
 
 He led her to the divan and sat down beside 
 her while he told Mustafa's story. His fury 
 grew with every word he uttered; all his baffled 
 ambition of discomfiting and balking Akiff Pasha, 
 —perhaps even of ousting him from the gover- 
 norship of Uskub, — the hopes, now vain, of glory 
 In his old age, — swelled the father's grief over 
 the loss of his firstborn. By the time the old 
 
THOSE WHO PAY 391 
 
 man had finished, he had worked himself into a 
 frenzy. 
 
 " Gather your trappings together," he cried at 
 last, springing to his feet and pacing the floor. 
 " By the end of the third day, not a stone shall 
 be left standing, nor a Bulgar grunt heard in 
 Goreno 1 " 
 
 "And when you have done that," MihirmaK 
 spoke with intense quiet, "" will Selim Bey hi 
 again in his mother's arms?" 
 
 Murad whirled on her sternly, but Fatma ran 
 between them. 
 
 " No," she cried in a shrill, thin voice, " it will 
 not bring my darling to me. But it will snatch a 
 hundred and more cfiaur sons from their mothers* 
 arms. You will do this thing, Murad ! Tell me, 
 promise me you will revenge our Selim." 
 
 " Stop, Fatma Hanoum," Mihirmah cut her 
 short. "What are you asking? Kill brigands, 
 revolutionists — that is revenge. But the old men, 
 the women, the children of Goreno — ^how can 
 they answer for your son's death?" 
 
 "They will answer because I say they shall 
 answer," Murad thundered. " Are you a ffiaur 
 yourself that you plead their cause, or the Mo- 
 hammedan slave I took you for?'' 
 
 Mihirmah's face burned fire, but she would 
 fry once more. 
 
 " Gently, Murad PasHa," she cautioned. 
 " Softly. We are not of noble birth — not all of 
 us here, and some of us are not as young as years 
 
392 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 ago. Whatever Goreno does not do, it does pay 
 taxes. A brigand's toy-shop would be a hard 
 business for the sixty-year-old Pride of the Var- 
 dar." 
 
 Murad's beard was flecked with froth. He 
 sprang at the former seraili tiger-like, when 
 Zayleh darted from her corner and ran between 
 them. 
 
 " I hate the ground she treads on, Murad, but 
 this time she is right. We need Goreno. Think 
 of our little Ali ! " 
 
 But Murad shodlc her off. He heard only 
 Fatma's cry for revenge, he thought only of his 
 own outraged governorship, but he did not touch 
 Mihirmah. 
 
 She walked away silently, but her whole being 
 throbbed with the sense of battle. Had Murad 
 seen the fire in those deep brown eyes, he would 
 have known that she, too, realized it was a war 
 to the bitter end between them. 
 
CHAPTER XLIV 
 
 A LEADER ALMOST LOST 
 
 THE little group in old TosHo's farthest 
 sheep-shed were obviously waiting for 
 someone. It was not late by the clock on 
 this Tuesday evening, but already darkness had 
 closed down, and the inside of the windowless 
 shack would have been as black as midnight but 
 for the candle flickering on a broad ledge project- 
 ing from the wall. Stoyan, Peter, Croom, Gani, 
 and Uncle Dimo sat cross-legged, Turk-fashion, 
 on the straw scattered over the floor; Adalena, 
 on a small three-cornered milking-stool, leaned 
 back against the wall in a dark corner of the shed 
 and offered no comment on the subject under dis- 
 cussion. 
 
 She wore no disguise to-night, but had donned 
 one of Irina's peasant dresses, a plain black 
 woolen frock over a white slip that was gathered 
 about her throat and reached below the short 
 sleeves and the bottom of the black skirt. Her 
 hair coiled in a heavy loose braid about her head, 
 and half-hid under the white, blue-embroidered, 
 three-cornered scarf of the Pirin peasant woman, 
 
 393 
 
394 PAWNS OE LIBERTY 
 
 But the scarf was tied loosely, and the wavy 
 masses of hair rested on her forehead, matching 
 the dark eyes and setting off by contrast her fore- 
 head, which could be Ivory-white when she did 
 not choose to play the man. 
 
 The girl was paler and thinner than she had 
 been in the cave. Mother Yana had needed all 
 her skill as nurse to keep her from serious illness, 
 but neither her own nor Irina's efforts had availed 
 In restoring their guest's spirits. 
 
 On Sunday afternoon she had been taking a 
 short ramble over the near-pastures with Ivan's 
 sister, when a stranger in peasant dress passed 
 old Tosho's gateway. After he had disappeared, 
 Ivan noticed Boyan's note tucked in the bolt. 
 He departed immediately, leaving a brief mes- 
 sage to Ada to hold herself ready for any emer- 
 gency, and if nothing untoward happened, to have 
 Gani, Stoyan, Uncle DImo, and the Dobreff 
 brothers wait for him in his father's upper shed 
 on Tuesday night. 
 
 But what had become of Boyan? The ques- 
 tion tormented every waking moment, and night 
 brought her only new visions of the tiny hut, the 
 wracking day in the cave. Over and over in her 
 dreams. It was Boyan who came to her rescue. 
 Sometimes he was hurling huge fire-brands at the 
 two Turks, another time he was firing at them 
 with dice for bullets, but Sellm only caught the 
 flying cubes and counted the spots as they turned 
 up. 
 
A LEADER ALMOST LOST 395 
 
 She had been too weak and ill to venture away 
 after Ivan took her to the Seven Well-springs, 
 so he had climbed alone to the cabin, only to find 
 it empty. Whether Boyan had been found by 
 Turks or brigands; whether he had managed in 
 some way to free himself — Adalena could only 
 wonder and guess. But if he had freed himself, 
 why was he not seeking her? Or was he? 
 
 She wondered if Ivan's absence was in any 
 SPay connected with Boyan ; she wondered why he 
 had wanted the Goreno men to meet him in the 
 shed. Uncle Tosho was away on a visit to his 
 old brother in Kotchana, and Adalena's news 
 came through the women only, or through a! 
 passing shepherd or cattle-boy. 
 
 She was wrapped in her own thoughts as she 
 sat apart on her milking-stool, but Gani's remarks 
 roused her; she had paid no attention before to 
 Goreno gossip.. 
 
 "Well, I don't know what jt portends, Stoy- 
 ,an," Gani had said, " but the konak has been shut 
 as close as a clam's shell all day. [Rumors are 
 as thick in Goreno as garlic In a gypsy's soup, 
 but no one knows anythlng."- 
 
 "I heard," Stoyan the Chandler said softly, 
 " that Murad Pasha had had a stroke — or some- 
 .thing." 
 
 " Not Murad," Croom Dobreff the Carpenter 
 corrected him, " for I was fixing Abraham's chim- 
 ney this morning and could look over the konak 
 wall into the courtyard. No one came In sight 
 
396 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 for a long time, then the old man himself crossed 
 from the harem with a couple of the garrison 
 captains. They had their heads mighty close to- 
 gether, but I couldn't help noticing, Comrades, 
 what an old rotten turnip Murad Pasha really 
 is." 
 
 " After I sent the children home from school 
 this afternoon," Uncle Dimo put in, " our little 
 Mirko — Dobry's brother, you know — lingered 
 behind. When I asked him what he wanted, he 
 came very close and whispered, ' Selim Bey hasn't 
 been heard of for two days, Master Dimo.' 
 " Well,' I laughed, ' Selim Bey has been gone for 
 weeks without telling Goreno about it.' ' I don't 
 know what's the matter,' the child answered, ' but 
 I feel awful scared, Master Dimo.' So I walked 
 along with him as far as his house." 
 
 " The boy is as nervous as a rabbit since he 
 lost his brother," Stoyan interrupted, and the 
 men nodded in sympathetic sorrow. 
 
 " And yet," Uncle Dimo added thoughtfully, 
 " I'm not sure just now that he hasn't reason to 
 be nervous " 
 
 " Sst/ " Peter, who sat nearest the door, lifted 
 a warning finger and put his ear to the crack. 
 Adalena leaned forward, her heart pounding 
 against her breast. In the utter silence of the 
 shed, they heard the tap: a long stroke, two 
 short, and another long beat. No one stirred or 
 breathed until the second signal came: twice, 
 thrice the newcomer tapped against the door, 
 
A LEADER ALMOST LOST 397 
 
 then the Hst struck a slow, long beat and seemed 
 to linger against the board. 
 
 Peter drew the bolt and lifted the latch noise- 
 lessly. Ivan the Huntsman glided into the room ; 
 a step behind him came Boyan himself. Ada- 
 lena started from her seat, then sat down as sud- 
 denly as she had risen. She felt a sudden desire 
 to hear what he had to say for himself while he 
 was still unaware of her presence. 
 
 Boyan evidently was not looking for her, and 
 if Ivan noticed her presence, he gave no sign. 
 
 " Comrades," the Huntsman said when the 
 door was barred again and the men had resumed 
 their places, " I wanted to meet you here to-night 
 because I felt sure from whom my summons 
 came the other day. Who brought it was a de- 
 tail which, fortunately, I did not learn." And in 
 brief, vivid style, Ivan narrated the story of 
 Stanko's inn and the Komari Bog. " And so 
 here we are. Comrades," he finished, " with one 
 more brave warrior added to our lists and one 
 blood-sucker less In Macedonia." 
 
 A low exclamation went from lip to lip of his 
 listeners. The vague, uneasy rumors afloat in 
 Goreno, and the ominous quiet of the konak were 
 explained at last — fearfully explained. Uncle 
 Dimo drew himself up and approached Boyan. 
 The handshake he gave him was portentously se- 
 rious. 
 
 " You are welcome among us, my brother," he 
 said. " How long you will be among us, how 
 
398 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 long any of us shall be together; — my heart fails 
 me when I ask that question. You wonder how 
 long it will be before Murad misses'his son, Ivan? 
 Murad has missed him already, if I mistake not." 
 He stopped a moment before he finished. 
 
 " I told you how nervous the little Mirko had 
 been this afternoon. After the child got homej 
 I walked on by the river bank until I came out 
 on the highway leading over the bridge. As I 
 passed by the abandoned blacksmith shop, I 
 thought I heard some one groaning. When I 
 stepped into the doorway, I was sure of it. In 
 a corner of the cellar, tied hand and foot, I found 
 the miserable wretch who was to carry the note 
 to Ivan. Selim Bey had left him rotting in that 
 hole since Saturday; I brought him some water 
 and bread) and as soon as it was dark, moved 
 him home. He told me of Mustafa's coming to 
 meet Selim there, but that Selim never came." 
 
 Ivan's face was very grave as he listened to the 
 old school-master. He looked from one to the 
 other; he read the same thoughts in every face. 
 
 " Men," he said at last, " we haven't a day to 
 lose. If I am not mistaken, Murad will leave no 
 stone unturned to unearth us. We must arm the 
 entire district at once, for when he gets on our 
 trail. It will be a fight io the death." 
 
 "ThanK God for the tax-money," Gani the 
 Driver said. "Is the second half of it all 
 changed, Stoyan?" 
 
 The Chandler went to a dark corner and dug 
 
A LEADER ALMOST LOST 399 
 
 for a moment under a heap of straw. Gold 
 pieces chinked softly as he drew out a tough 
 leather bag. 
 
 "Every piaster,'' he said proudly. "And, 
 Comrades, I have a suggestion to make. Our 
 ^ash-komitaji has shown he can silence Murad 
 Pasha in a court-room, shown loyalty and genius 
 at every turn. Let us appoint hiin to put this 
 gold with the other half; to see that it gets car- 
 ried over the border at once; and that arms are 
 brought back to the Goreno district. Are you 
 agreed?" 
 
 " Aye, aye," the men said heartily. Adalena's 
 heart warmed with pride. At last he was to fill 
 the place she had chosen for him in her dreams; 
 he was to be the messenger and the hope of fight- 
 ing Goreno. With an effort she held back, her 
 eyes eager to watch him, unaware of her presence, 
 accept his commission from the men. 
 
 Stoyan the Chandler picked, up the bag and 
 handed it to Boyan, But he shrank visibly and 
 did not touch It. 
 
 "I — can not I" he whispered huskily. "I 
 was to jave the other half, and — the gold is 
 gone." 
 
 The girl in the corner forgot herself com- 
 pletely; she bounded from her dark corner and 
 clasped her hands around his arm: 
 
 "Gone, Boyan?" she cried. "Gone — our 
 gold?" 
 
 " Ada I " the man gasped. " Ada moydf " 
 
400 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 A great joy flooded his face. For the moment 
 he forgot the circle of men, Murad Pasha, Go- 
 reno — all save the fact that she was there. 
 
 " Ada moyal " He held her in his arms jeal- 
 ously, possessingly, and lifted her face to his lips. 
 
 " Boyan! " she protested, breaking away, her 
 face crimson with confusion. His eyes clouded 
 as he met again the astonished looks of the Go- 
 reno patriots. Without uttering a word, he 
 leaned wearily against the door of the shed. 
 
 " Are you sure you looked in the right place? " 
 the Chandler asked compassionately. 
 
 " I followed Ivan's directions Implicitly," 
 Boyan answered. " Third sleeve to the right 
 after the 'Turk's Head' — wasn't that right, 
 Ivan? The blazed oak was there, the forked pine, 
 and the dwarfed birch-tree with the boulder by 
 its trunk. But when I lifted the stone,, the money 
 was gone." 
 
 '* And you were the only one beside Ivan who 
 knew?" 
 
 A chilly, uneasy silence fell on the little group. 
 
 " One hundred thousand piasters in gold," 
 Croom groaned. Gani chewed furiously at a 
 piece of straw, to keep from talking. After all, 
 Boyan was a stranger to them. He had offered 
 himself as the bash-kom'itaji monk; but was it 
 for Macedonia's sake? He had saved Adalena 
 by doing it, and he loved her. Besides that, and 
 the fact that Ivan trusted him, he had nothing to 
 recommend him to them. 
 
A LEADER ALMOST LOST 401 
 
 Even Adalena was still. Had he not kissed 
 
 her, she could have spoken. But now Their 
 
 eyes met ; his begged, pleaded, demanded that she 
 should not doubt him. Her heart ached with his 
 pain. The silence became unendurable. She 
 stepped up to him once more. 
 
 " Boyan," — her voice shook a little, but it was 
 dear and unmistakable, — " / believe in you." 
 
 Then she turned to the men. 
 
 The door behind them shook with a violent 
 knocking. Stoyan grabbed the leather bag and 
 buried it under the heap of straw. Some one 
 blew out the candle. 
 
 " Uncle Dimo, Ivan, my son 1 Let us in 1 " 
 
 " My father has come back! " The Huntsman 
 rushed toward the entrance. 
 
 " And Mirko I " Uncle Dimo cried, unbolting 
 the door. As it swung open, the lad darted in, 
 and old Tosho stumbled after him, carrying a 
 lantern. 
 
 " Goreno," the breathless boy gasped out. " I 
 heard two Turks talking — Murad Pasha has 
 called the whole garrison out: he is going to kill 
 us all — all Goreno I " 
 
 " My babies 1 " Stoyan groaned, snatching up 
 his pistol. 
 
 " Off, all of us 1 " Boyan thundered: " We'll 
 need every rifle to-night, men," 
 
 "Mother and the children?" Ivan questioned 
 his father. 
 
 " They will be off in ten minutes, together with 
 
402 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 Ivko and his boy, for George's, over by the 
 Yellow Pastures. They will be safe there. And 
 you, my son?" 
 
 " I'll be needed down in Goreno Eo-night, 
 father." 
 
 " And I, too," the old man answered. 
 
 Running, stumbling, recklessly the men rushed 
 down the road to Goreno. The distant echo of 
 trumpet calls came up from the town — already 
 the soldiers must be pouring out of the konak! 
 
 Suddenly Boyan turned about. 
 
 " Adalena I " he cried, " go with the women 
 folk to the Yellow Pastures 1 Where are you 
 coming?" 
 
 " With y6u," she breathed as she hurried 
 along. "Always with you, Boyan." 
 
CHAPTER XLV 
 
 AN OLD SONG 
 
 GORENO stirred ominously. Soldiers 
 goose-stepped up and down the konak 
 court; wolfish Bashibozouk irregulars 
 slouched along the corridors of the prison pull- 
 ing at their mustaches and oiling long bayoneted 
 rifles and ugly, thirsty-looking yataghan daggers. 
 Sneaking in from corners and scooting up unfre- 
 quented alleys, the Turkish townsmen crept unob- 
 served into the konak-ceWar and licked their lips 
 in anticipation of the night's work. They had 
 all dealt with the natives: every Moslem son of 
 them was now assigning to his own province some 
 special prize in some luckless Bulgar's house. 
 
 All over the town gates opened and closed 
 warily. A vague rumor was in the air. Women 
 glanced anxiously up and down the street, stole 
 out, or called across to a passerby, whispering 
 questions, until a kadin's curses interrupted the 
 inquiry from a neighboring Moslem window. A 
 dim, dark sense of some hideous fatality dis- 
 turbed Goreno womankind. 
 
 Women and children crouched behind their 
 403 
 
404 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 gates, trembling to glance out upon the streets, 
 waiting for the men to return from their shops, 
 and the next moment fled their houses seeking 
 news and comfort from their neighbors. And 
 the late afternoon, deceptively warm in mid-win- 
 ter, wore on pitilessly; the shadows of the discon- 
 certed wives of Goreno grew ominously long, 
 portentous. Evening wore into night; death was 
 in the winter-wind. The Turks knew it, stole 
 glances through the konak windows, and leered 
 at the confused natives. 
 
 Drums beat threateningly; the konak gates 
 opened; and the soldiers and irregulars poured 
 into the market-place. Suddenly the gong in the 
 old stone church began to ring wildly. Over the 
 yells of the Turkish soldiery, loosed for action, 
 the vibrant notes sounded throughout the town: 
 " Come, Come, Come Unto Me 1 " and the ter- 
 rorized Bulgars fled to its open doors. But some 
 thought of gold and silver and silk-embroideries; 
 some fled the twilit streets and hid behind 
 bolted gates and barred windows. And, as the 
 church gong rang warningly, comfortingly that 
 Tuesday night, many a knee in Goreno bent in 
 prayer before the home icon, and tears mixed 
 with the drippings of sputtering candles, burned 
 low and ready to go out. 
 
 Like pent-up torrents breaking through a crum- 
 bling dam, the flood of Moslem fanatics arid plain 
 Turkish rascals burst out upon the hapless, un- 
 prepared Goreno. Trumpet and drum-beat 
 
AN OLD SONG 405 
 
 struck the first strains of the oldest song in 
 Macedonia; the mob of fez-wearing fiends took 
 it up with howls and execrations; the Great In- 
 scrutable began another chapter. 
 
 Have you read it, Oh Friend of the Drowsy 
 Verandas — that blood-charactered, fire-illumined 
 chronicle of carnage, fire and yataghan, rapine 
 and pillage, sack and bloodthirst and bestiality? 
 Can you copy it in seemly type that would not 
 outrage your decorous respectability? Para- 
 phrase and translate it into a language of Thou- 
 sand-and-One-Night romance, stressing the orien- 
 talism, smoothing, skipping, scratching out the 
 syllables of shame, the loathsome words, the para- 
 graphs of things unutterable? 
 
 In a corner opposite the church square, just as 
 they darted to the gates, Stoyan the Chandler, 
 his wife, and three children were penned in by 
 half-a-dozen Bashibozouks. They crushed his 
 head against the brick-wall; the two boys lay in 
 mutilated fragments in the middle of the street; 
 but the mother was too young to kill outright, 
 and followed her fourteen-year-old daughter, tied 
 and tossed onto a donkey's back. 
 
 White-haired Uncle Dimo, caught in his own 
 doorway, hung from a cross-beam in his cellar, 
 an iron chain gripping his bare ankles. The old, 
 worn body hung limp: the tired blood strained 
 the emaciated cheeks, and the tongue stuck out 
 of the mouth in hopeless agony. The soldiers 
 had moved on and left him in charge of a six- 
 
4o6 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 teen year-old Turkish knave, who had tied his 
 hands in a noose and was swinging him back and 
 forth by means of a rope. The head just scraped 
 the floor, on which the ingenious young devil had 
 poured pine tar; the matted hair caught, pulled, 
 stuck. 
 
 " Who pecked Murad Pasha's money, you old 
 gander?" the Turkish boy jeered. " And where 
 is Selim Bey?" Through a crack in the rough 
 board floor just above him, a tiny red stream 
 dripped, dripped — where Dimovitsa, his good old 
 wife, had fallen. 
 
 Gani, the wagon-driver, creeping from shadow 
 to shadow across the market-place to his home, 
 caught and dragged to the konak jail, lay stripped 
 to the skin on an iron stretcher over a slow-burn- 
 ing charcoal brazier. The rawhide whip snapped 
 as it fell, and broke the blisters. 
 
 "Where is Murad's gold and silver, you lep- 
 rous hypocrite?" Mahmut snarled at him. 
 
 Old Priest Azarias, faithful shepherd of a luck- 
 less flock, lingered one moment too long in the 
 church square, waiting for an old woman to catch 
 up with him and lead her in to safety. The old 
 woman reached the entrance ; but a bullet reached 
 old Azarias. The Turks nailed him onto a pop- 
 lar trunk in tKe center of the square : a hideous 
 crucifix. 
 
 Splinters hammered under finger-nails and toe- 
 nails; gunpowder shaken in the eyes and set 
 ablaze; boiling hot olive oil poured down bleed- 
 
AN OLD SONG 407 
 
 ing ears; noses chopped off and eyes gouged 
 out. . . . 
 
 In the palace chambers above the konak cellar, 
 Murad Pasha presided over a wanton carnival. 
 Glasses clinked, plates rattled, the halls rang with 
 the vile ribaldry, drowning the shrieks of victims 
 killed and worse than killed. Murad Pasha 
 beamed bestial triumph. He lingered to observe 
 more closely, he looked out of the window: fire 
 and sword were doing their work in thorough 
 Osmanli style. The Pride of the Vardar sur- 
 veyed it all, and saw that it was good ; he rubbed 
 his hands and stepped out upon the balcony to 
 see the better. 
 
 • ■ • • • 
 
 Dinner grew cold in the Pasha's harem on that 
 Tuesday night; the slaves who -brought the dishes 
 took them back untouched, tiptoeing along the 
 corridor with white scared faces. No one thought 
 of going to bed. Sumruda, the second wife, bent 
 over her work, trying to embroider by a dim 
 candle light and help the nervous moments pass. 
 In a dusky corner Zayleh rocked the little Ali 
 and moaned rather than sang a monotonous 
 Turkish lullaby, but the child fretted restlessly 
 and would not sleep. His wailing must have dis- 
 turbed Fatma, who lay face-downward on the 
 long divan in the oriel-window, for every now 
 and then she raised her head and glared blackly 
 at the child. Zayleh shrank from her look, and 
 tried to cover the boy with her cashmere shawl 
 
4o8; PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 to shut out the evil eye; but he pushed it away 
 and cried the harder. 
 
 Up and down, covering the length of the room 
 with quick, nervous steps, Mihirmah wracked her 
 brain with questions of the night: What was 
 happening in the barracks below? What was to 
 happen in the town outside? What could the 
 next hours bring to Goreno? Once she went to 
 the window and opened it; peering into the dark- 
 ness. 
 
 " Do shut that window, Mihirmah Hanoum," 
 Zayleh complained. " Can't you hear Ali cough- 
 ing?" She shivered and turned her back to the 
 draft. Mihirmah closed the window and re- 
 sumed her walk, stepping noiselessly so she would 
 not miss a sound from outside. She could notice 
 how intently Fatma, too, was listening, and how 
 now and again she shaded the glass with her 
 hand and pressed her shriveled ear against the 
 pane. The fierce, hungry look In her eyes as she 
 waited made Mihirmah writhe with the sense of 
 what It portended. She turned to leave 
 
 A long drum-beat rolled up from the soldiers' 
 court and reverberated through the room. Heed- 
 less of Zayleh's cries, Mihirmah ran back to her 
 window and strained her eyes through the lattice. 
 For a moment she worked at the frame which 
 held the heavy bars, then she pushed it back 
 slowly and leaned over the sill. 
 
 Long pine torches flared in front of the konak 
 and out on the market-place. Mihirmah could 
 
AN OLD SONG 409 
 
 hear the rapid march of the garrison as they 
 crowded through the gateway, and the terse 
 orders of the officers. Then her heart froze with 
 despair and horror: the church gong began its 
 nerve-tearing clangor, and the hideous answering 
 yells of zaptiehs and Bashibozouks drowned the 
 cry of a hundred Goreno throats. 
 
 *' Hear them! Hear them! " Fatma cried sav- 
 agely, springing from the divan. " Selim's own 
 spirit is leading them ! " 
 
 Flames leaped from a dozen houses all at 
 once and illumined the narrow streets and 
 crooked alleys; huge bonfires of pitch-soaked 
 pine-boards flamed before locked doors where the 
 inhabitants, too tardy to reach the church, made 
 useless resistance. 
 
 "Ha, did you see that?" Fatma; exulted pas- 
 sionately. 
 
 Mihirmah had seen it; seen what the rains of 
 a hundred years could not blot out. The youth 
 had been so stalwart, fighting in that doorway! 
 She could see his dark hair, his defiant eyes; she 
 could imagine the play of his muscles as he swung 
 his huge club. But one bullet through his head, 
 and the old woman behind him shrank back into 
 the darkness, defenseless. 
 
 The luxurious, beauty-loving harem-woman felt 
 her very reason slipping away as she watched the 
 soldiers rush across that dead body at the living 
 body that waved her arms impotently. Mihirmah 
 tried to turn away from the window, but that 
 
4IO PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 scene of agony compelled her — and other scenes 
 — others 
 
 And this wanton sacrifice of manhood and 
 womanhood avenged the death of a libertine, 
 already soaked in a hundrfed iniquities; healed the 
 lacerated pride of a man bloody-minded and 
 fetid I She could heaf, now faintly, now clearly, 
 the riotous carousal from Murad's banquet hall, 
 and Murad's own voice as he stood on the bal- 
 cony. 
 
 The soldiers were firing on the church now. 
 Mihirmah could see its white, squarish tower sil- 
 houetted against the sky; she fancied she could 
 almost hear the walls crumbling. A corner of 
 the tower fell. 
 
 " And when the walls give In " The 
 
 third wife had heard of what happened in such 
 churches. 
 
 Suddenly she stiffened, the wild Idea that 
 rushed Into her brain stopped, crystallized. 
 
 " Before those walls crumble " she 
 
 breathed. " Murad Pasha shall never see those 
 walls crumble ! " 
 
 Out in the corridor Mihirmah stopped to won- 
 der at her own cool daring, stopped to admire, 
 but she did not waver. Not a living creature was 
 in sight ; she groped her way very cautiously down 
 the passage, trying to remember every turn after 
 she had left the harem when she went lo meet 
 Boyan. 
 
 Boyan? Mihirmah thrust back the thought of 
 
AN OLD SONG 411 
 
 him; her whole unrequited passion for the bash- 
 kotnitaji had changed through the long days into 
 a fantastic passion for his people. She was hope- 
 lessly trapped, — she could never be free, — ^but 
 they? 
 
 A turn of the corridor, and she looked straight 
 ahead to an open balcony where the Pasha and 
 his intimates hurled their orders over the konak 
 wall. Murad stood nearest the door, his left 
 hand up against the casing, the other outstretched 
 to the railing. 
 
 " A whole bagful of noses I want, — you Know, 
 'Hussein?" he called to a passing zaptieh, and 
 burst into a laugh. 
 
 The laugh ended in a sharp, sudden cough. 
 
 " Oh ! " Murad clapped his hand to his left 
 side and touched the finest of daggers, buried to 
 its hilt. " Poisoned," he gasped, staggering 
 against the wall, his face livid with terror. 
 
 For a moment he clutched the air uncertainly, 
 then he fell. 
 
 An officer sprang inside and caught sight of the 
 dark figure hurrying down the passage. An 
 instant; he fired. The figure stumbled; he fired 
 again, and it fell face forward. The Turk ran 
 up and turned it over. 
 
 " A woman ! " he exclaimed as he pushed back 
 the thin veil. " What a beauty I " 
 
 Her white lips moved, the eyelids flickered, 
 opened, closed. 
 
 " Free ! " Mihirmah murmured. 
 
41 a PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 Outside the riot grew, as a calmly smiling, 
 sophisticated Macedonian moon rose slowly over 
 the eastern mountains. 
 
 Plunder and pillage, lords of Mohammed 1 
 Goreno is yours. Cry your loudest, daughter of 
 Macedon: Heaven is a vast, leaden vault, dull 
 and unresponsive: God is deaf and dumb this 
 evening and this night. God is too high to hear 
 you, and the Tsar too far to help. For this Is 
 Turkey; thus has it been with your mothers and 
 your mothers' mothers these thirteen ghastly gen- 
 erations. Old Turkey, Young Turkey — sing the 
 song in any key you please, it is the same old 
 dirge of desolation. This is not Europe; this is 
 Islam land 1 . , . 
 
CHAPTER XLVI 
 
 BEHIND THE ALTAR 
 
 HUDDLED in the middle of the church, 
 Goreno womanhood knelt and waited; 
 some of them prayed. Small children 
 sobbed with no one to soothe them; old, frail 
 grandfathers crouched on the cold stones and 
 trembled with the certain knowledge of what im- 
 pended. The church was their only refuge, and 
 it was a death-trap. Every man and boy strong 
 enough to bear a club paced the aisles and 
 watched — ^waited for the final onrush which was 
 imminent, once the Turks had beaten through the 
 thick wall that surrounded the paved church- 
 court. 
 
 Some dozen fortunates, who owned rifles and 
 bullets, had climbed into the tower and were pick- 
 ing off their men with every one of the precious 
 bits of lead,^ But the supply was meager. 
 
 And all the while the bell kept up its wild ring- 
 ing. 
 
 "You might as well stop now, Adalena," 
 Boyan called down to her. " Every one is inside 
 who dares to cross the square. The jackals have 
 us completely surrounded." 
 
 413 
 
414 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 She left the bell-rope and climbed the stairway 
 to his side. The despairing wails from the church 
 below came faintly in the midst of the riot out- 
 side. 
 
 "If we only had guns enough, Boyanl" the 
 girl said, as she crept to him. " We could try 
 a counter attack." 
 
 He shook his head: she could see the square 
 jaw, the white, rigid face. 
 
 " We haven't bullets enough," he answered. 
 " The attack was too sudden for men to think, 
 and most of them brought only families. Even I 
 have only three cartridges left." 
 
 She counted the leaden fingers projecting from 
 his belt. 
 
 " Four," she corrected. 
 
 "Three." 
 
 "And the fourth?" 
 
 He looked at her quietly. 
 
 " The fourth is for you, darling. The Turks 
 will kill me fast enough." 
 
 Ivan came up to them with his father. 
 
 " Don't shoot ! We had better save the rest 
 of our bullets for the final rush," Ivan advised 
 grimly. " The men below have only clubs, you 
 know, and they don't reach far." 
 
 Adalena looked into his face, searching for one 
 gleam of hope. " Haven't we any chance at all ? " 
 she begged. 
 
 " We haven't a ghost's shadow of a chance, 
 once they get inside the wall," Ivan answered. 
 
BEHIND THE ALTAR 415 
 
 " Look down there, and you can see for your- 
 self." 
 
 Adalena looked, then looked again. Four 
 Turks had drawn up a small cannon, loaded it, 
 and were pointing it directly at the corner of the 
 tower where they were standing. In an instant 
 she realized their own danger. 
 
 " Quick, down the stairs ! " Boyan, too, had 
 seen it, whirled and swung her away. The stone 
 cracked, split wide apart, and the tower's corner 
 toppled with a crash to the pavement below. The 
 exultant yell of the Bashibozouks reverberated 
 in wails of despair inside the church-prison. Bits 
 of stone showered about the little platform as it 
 rocked with the force of the blow. The men 
 scrambled hastily down the steps. 
 
 "Are you hurt, Ada?" 
 
 "I'm not," she said, "but, Boyan, look at 
 Ivan 1 Something has happened to Uncle Tosho." 
 
 The old shepherd lay crumpled on his back 
 tvhere the stones had showered about his head, 
 with an ugly gash just above his temple. He was 
 breathing hard as he lay half-supported in his 
 son's arms, and struggled violently. Half-a-dozen 
 times he opened his mouth in a vain effort to 
 speak. 
 
 Adalena knelt quickly by his side, and tried to 
 stop the blood-flow with her handkerchief. Boyan 
 touched a tiny flask of raki to the old man's lips. 
 He lay very still a moment, then his eyes bright- 
 ened. 
 
4i6 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 " Ivan," he spoke softly, saving every ounce of 
 strength, " I should have told you earlier. I didn't 
 think there was any hurry and you were safer by 
 not knowing. 
 
 "Yes, father?" 
 
 " Three weeks ago, while you were away, a 
 couple of brigands came to the Seven Well- 
 springs, and tried to make me tell where you hid 
 the gold. They had discovered your boat and 
 scoured the forest for some other clue, until they 
 finally found the blazed oak " 
 
 The Huntsman hung on his father's words. 
 
 " In spite of all their digging, though, they 
 missed the money itself. You remember you told 
 me where it was, just before you went to Uskub ? " 
 
 The son nodded eagerly and bent lower, not to 
 lose a syllable. Tosho wavered a little, then went 
 on with a greater effort. 
 
 " You weren't at home, son," the old man com- 
 plained. " I knew those men would turn every 
 stone In the forest; so one night, before I went 
 to Kotchana, you know " 
 
 " Yes, yes, father " 
 
 " One night I went and found the place, car- 
 ried the gold away — ^back home — to Seven Well- 
 springs " 
 
 " Boyan I " Adalena cried, a great joy leaping 
 into her eyes. But Boyan did not answer; he and 
 the Huntsman watched greedily the shepherd's 
 every breath. Again he put the flask to his lips; 
 Tosho drained its very dregs. 
 
BEHIND THE ALTAR 417 
 
 "And now, father?" Ivan encouraged him, 
 
 *' now it is- 
 
 " Safe," old Tosho whispered. " It is safe 
 
 now." 
 
 " But where, father, where? " Ivan whispered 
 in his father's ear. 
 
 " I dropped it down the deep well — behind the 
 old cowshed. The water is bitter, and nobody 
 draws from it now. But, son Ivan, nobody 
 knows — I was waiting to tell you later." The 
 old man's voice grew tragic. " And I made a 
 grappling hook — under the foundation — to reach 
 the bottom. Somebody ought to go, Ivan " — the 
 shepherd half-raised himself — " somebody must 
 go, to save that money, for — for " 
 
 The blood rushed from his temple over the 
 soaked handkerchief as he spoke, his lips grew 
 livid, and he fell forward, his face on his knees. 
 
 " Dead," Ivan said simply, and carried him 
 over to a protected corner of the tower. " Better 
 this way than — later. Father 1" 
 
 The three stood in silence for a moment, and 
 the moon, just over the mountain's crest, sent a 
 long shining beam around the old man's white, 
 blood-stained head. Adalena bent low and touched 
 the forehead with her lips. 
 
 " And our work," she said, " our risk, which 
 brought us all here, is — under a heap of straw 
 and in the bottom of a well ! " 
 
 Ivan raised his head with a sudden determina- 
 tion. 
 
41 8' PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 " Boyan," he asked, " are you great cnougH to 
 live for us all?" 
 
 Boyan looked at him. "I — don't know!" he 
 answered. 
 
 " That money must be saved," the Huntsman 
 went on. " If for no other reason, to prevent — 
 that again." He pointed to the unarmed men 
 below them. 
 
 " But for more than that. In the back of the 
 church, behind the altar, where the court wall 
 touches the wall of the church, is a long, narrow 
 door. It leads into a cellar that connects with 
 Priest Azarias' kitchen. You and Ada must creep 
 through that and do your best to make an escape. 
 You have one chance in a thousand, but that 
 chance you must risk." 
 
 Boyan drew back. "/ go, Ivan?" he said. 
 " And you stay to do a man's work? " He shook 
 his head. "We can't spare an arm from down- 
 stairs." 
 
 " One man more or less does not matter there," 
 the Huntsman answered. " But you are the only 
 man here who can save the money. I can't go — I 
 have an aunt and three cousins, helpless down- 
 stairs. If you don't want this slaughter to be 
 wholly futile, if you don't want this to be our mur- 
 der," he pointed to his father, " you will save that 
 money for the Cause." 
 
 " And when we have saved it? " 
 
 A fearful explosion tore the night and cut short 
 any answer. Stones and bits of brick and tile shot 
 
BEHIND THE ALTAR 419 
 
 high into the air and fell like huge hail-stones 
 about the church. A cannon-ball had pierced a 
 hole in the front wall of the church-yard. 
 
 " At the church," the Turks yelled. 
 
 Ivan pushed the other two to the stairs. " Not 
 a moment 1 " he shouted at them. " Go — ^both of 
 you!" 
 
 They raced down the twisty steps and in among 
 the terror-stricken Bulgars. 
 
 " Here, under the altar," Ivan pulled away the 
 overhanging cloth and lifted the latch. Adalena 
 turned and grasped his hand. 
 
 " Ivan," she said, " fighting is useless. When 
 they break through the front door, why don't you 
 bring the people this way? " 
 
 Ivan shook his head doubtfully. " Two might 
 slip through," he said, " But a crowd — they will 
 be caught. Still — we shall see." 
 
 " Try — ^Try, Ivan," Adalena urged. " Prom- 
 ise us you will try ! " 
 
 He took her hand tightly in his. 
 
 " Fare thee well, little comrade," he said. " I 
 shall do my best. I may meet you yet in Sofia," 
 and he smiled. 
 
 She slipped away and down the stairs. Boyan 
 followed. Just before the door closed, the Hunts- 
 man knelt and whispered in his ear. 
 
 " Take her away," he said. " Take her to Bul- 
 garia. There is no fighting chance in Macedonia 
 —yet." 
 
 Boyan started at the words. He heard his fa- 
 
420 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 ther's voice in Ivan's. Then the door closed, and 
 he stumbled after the girl. 
 
 They felt the church tremble above them from 
 the battering on its doors, but they had no time to 
 linger. Away through the narrow passage into an 
 open cellar, up the stairs, and they came into the 
 priest's kitchen. Boyan slipped to the door and 
 peered out. A long dark alley stretched before 
 them — empty ! 
 
 " Ada, Ada," he cried softly, " come. I believe 
 we can make it." 
 
 She was still by the cellar door, listening. They 
 could hear the muffled confusion, then a sudden 
 uproar, and Ivan's voice called loudly: 
 
 " Anyone who wants to try a dash, follow me ! " 
 
 " Come — Ada ! " Boyan snatched her hand, 
 threw open the door, and at lightning speed they 
 raced down the tortuous alley-way. Dodging, 
 turning, hugging the shadows, never pausing to 
 look back, they fled on — on — away from Goreno. 
 
CHAPTER XLVII 
 
 JUST BEFORE DAWN 
 
 A TOP the crest of a bald cliff rising tower- 
 /\ like above the pine-woods which skirt the 
 Ladna River, Adalena and Boyan halted 
 and turned around for one last look at Goreno. 
 Above them to the left Vishny Peak glimmered 
 like dull silver in the pale crepuscular sheen. The 
 lower mountain-reaches and the valley of Goreno 
 stretched away in the dim twilight of the dawning. 
 
 He laid the two heavy leather bags in front of 
 them, and drew a long, dizzy breath. 
 
 *' How we have managed to get here, I shall 
 never know," he said. 
 
 Adalena made no reply; perhaps she did not 
 even hear him; she gazed fixedly in the distant 
 valley. They were too far away to hear groans 
 of agony or howls, and the lurid glare of the 
 burning town which had joined with the moonlight 
 in guiding them through the night, had died away 
 with the setting of the moon. Goreno was heaps 
 of burning coals and smoking foundations; only 
 in one spot — ^presumably the open court around 
 the church — tongues of flame shot up dartlike. 
 
 421 
 
422 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 Turkdom must still be there, putting the last 
 touches to a night hideous and long as nights can 
 be long only in Macedonia. 
 
 She shivered and closed her eyes, as if to shut 
 out the vision of what she could not see. 
 
 What she did not see, and dared not imagine, 
 were the hardier dozen or two of men, women, 
 and children, who worked their way through the 
 town and down along the river, guided by the 
 Huntsman of Pirin and the two Dobreff brothers. 
 Little Mirko clutched at Ivan's coat and urged 
 his aunt to walk faster. Pursuit caught up with 
 them at every corner, but they fought it back, and 
 pushed on. The edge of the town was bleak; the 
 church court encircled by blazing fires was warm, 
 inviting, and the victims there were defenceless, 
 ready at hand. 
 
 " Let these roaches slip away," the Turks cried 
 at last, and gave up the chase. " We've enough 
 and to spare in town." 
 
 And Ivan led them on, guarding against unex- 
 pected, renewed pursuit, avoiding the safer, upper 
 trails where he felt sure Boyan and Adalena were 
 carrying the precious bags. 
 
 "You are cold?" Boyan drew her to him 
 gently and wrapped her cape more closely about 
 her. 
 
 "Cold?" she answered. "My very soul is 
 cold, Boyan." She laid a weary head on his 
 shoulder and he touched it tenderly. His face 
 was grave, thoughtful; around his mouth she 
 
JUST BEFORE DAWN 423 
 
 could see the set, determined lines. The girl 
 heaved a long-drawn sigh. 
 
 " Some day, Boyan," she said, " we may be 
 glad we are alive. But to-night — it seems so — 
 hopeless — I wish we had stayed and ended it — 
 down there." Her voice broke in a sob and she 
 clung to him motionless, silent. 
 
 He held her more closely, relentlessly. She 
 knew the import of his embrace, though he said 
 not a word. She felt herself and all her firm reso- 
 lution crumbling to powder in his arms. He 
 forced her to raise her head and look in his face. 
 
 " Adalena," he said firmly, " now we are going 
 to Bulgaria." 
 
 She trembled at his words. 
 
 " See, Boyan," she pointed northward, " across 
 the next range are the Brigand Highlands where 
 no Turkish soldiers dare follow us." 
 
 " Beyond is Bulgaria," he said simply, — " our 
 Hestinatlon." 
 
 But she made one last effort. 
 
 " Boyan, my Boyan, look! In this maze of up- 
 land wilds and lost valleys, shepherd homes are 
 waiting for your message and mine." 
 
 "Yes, shepherd homes still unburned. Ada- 
 lena," he counted his words. " You and I shall 
 never cause another such night as this, for when 
 we see Macedonia again it will be from the ranks 
 of the Bulgarian army." 
 
 " But until the Bulgarian army can come? " 
 
 " Until that day we shall preach a Balkan 
 
424 PAWNS OF LIBERTY 
 
 crusade in Bulgaria. Any other way is hopeless 
 and ends in ashes. I know it, and to-night you 
 know it too." 
 
 She turned away from him and from the valley. 
 
 " Let us go, then," she said. 
 
 But he held her back one second longer. His 
 grave eyes almost smiled into her own. 
 
 " We shall preach a crusade, and we shall fight 
 too, Adalena. But — first, and last, and all the 
 time, Ada moya, you are going to belong to me." 
 
 She tried desperately to meet his eyes; but her 
 lashes went down. 
 
 " Let us go," she murmured. 
 
 The bags of gold he concealed under his rough 
 black shepherd cape ; and she followed In his steps 
 across the snow-swept Pirin wilderness, north- 
 ward- bound. 
 
 And behind them Macedonia still slept her 
 troubled sleep, dreaming of the dawn that had 
 tarried half a thousand years. 
 
 THE END