When the man saw his companions coming back, he went to meet them. "Oh, how kind you are!" said he. "You are bringing me something to eat. This morning I managed to find a few berries, but I have eaten nothing else since last evening." He fell upon the bread and olives which Aram offered him, and ate greedily. It was growing dark, and they made their way over the rocks with extreme caution. At last, after a thousand difficulties, they reached the cavern, a spot which awakened many recollections in the boys' minds. Aram and Archag took out the treasures from their basket: dolmas, [28] eggs, cucumbers and figs, and the fugitive ate ravenously, his eyes eager with appetite. When his hunger was appeased, the boys begged him to tell them his story. They were sitting cross-legged at the entrance to the cave, with the full moon shining on them, and jackals yelping in the distance. "I am a native of Moosh," said the man, "that unfortunate city, continually exposed to the attacks of wandering Kurds. My name is Rupen, and I was for three years the inseparable companion of Andranick; perhaps you may have heard of him?" Heard of Andranick and Rupen, the heroes of the ballads they so often sang? What a question! Their guest rose high in their estimation, and they looked at him with deep respect and admiration. "We are twice and thrice happy to know you," said Archag, "and we shall always remember this day as long as we live. We have wept with joy when we have heard the songs of your exploits and Andranick's, for," he added, with simple pride, "we are partisans of the good cause." "What, you boys are fédai? Then I am saved!" "We shall do everything we can, so that you may be! But do tell us how you came to join Andranick's band." "Willingly," replied Rupen. "My father was a merchant well-esteemed by his fellow-citizens; his business was prosperous, and we had a very comfortable home. There was no happier hearth than ours, but alas, misfortune lay waiting for us! I had an only sister, two years younger than I, and celebrated for her beauty. My father in his foresight, never allowed her to go out unveiled; but one evening, as she was taking the air on our roof, she was obliged to uncover her face because of the suffocating heat. She walked about slowly, without a suspicion that there was a man at the corner of the street, watching her carefully. It was Ibrahim Khan, one of the most powerful chiefs of Kurdistan.