I wish he would make a book out of all he has seen and done in this land of romance. No one knows it better, and, if my own sympathies are apt to be with the brigands from whom he has twice suffered capture (because they only rob the rich), I have enjoyed few men’s tales of adventure more than his. Good and strong men are rare enough, and I know this one would never forget a friend. If danger threatened, it would only reach you over his dead body. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER VI BRITISH CHIVALRY!—BRAVE WOMEN A NUISANCE! “WOMEN are so absurdly brave,” said a charming British official, “that is why they are such a nuisance.” He was seated at a small, improvised and over-crowded bureau in one of the few remaining houses on the Smyrna Quay. He had just sufficient of a Scotch accent to make one see that he would stand no nonsense—an asset, surely, in his position. Yet the obvious and zealous concern for his own countrywoman proved that, however carefully the calm exterior of the Scot may hide his feelings, his heart beats strong and true. He is no less proud, too, of his “women” than any citizen of the States! But this able and active young man, master of any emergency at a crisis, could not accept my point of view about the Nationalist Turk. That, certainly, was not _his_ fault, for who is there to interpret this “new” people to him? He only knows that, for the first time, Turks have dared to express themselves, and—like brave women—are becoming a great nuisance! Under the good Hamid, these lazy people were easy enough to manage. “Turkey for the Turks!” What a monstrous notion! Yet one feels, nay knows, that he has plenty of intelligence, will face facts, and learn to accept the inevitable. Meanwhile, I, for my part, am throwing a most unwelcome additional weight upon his already over-burdened shoulders. He is clearly annoyed at my having come so far, and, in his place, who would not have felt the same? But, unfortunately for him, he knows very well that a woman who, despite difficulties well-nigh insurmountable, has been able to reach Smyrna without a British viza, means to get her way and will not be lightly driven back. If only the man had adopted the bullying and supercilious tone that becomes a uniform! One can so easily meet the “correct” officialism, counter its attacks, stand up to its incivility, and go one’s own way with a clear conscience. But it was not to be with my Scotch friend. “I admire your courage immensely,” he said with a courteous grace, “but, pardon my asking, what is the sense of it all?” “I want to study ‘the movement’ at Angora, and to see the national hero, M. Kemal Pasha.” “Is it worth risking your life for that? Forgive me, it does seem rather a wicked waste.”