She peeped through the screen of leafage, and then pushed her way cautiously through. Then she turned and beckoned us forward. We found ourselves in an orchard garden with rows of gnarled and twisted fruit trees, almond and peach for the most part. In the centre was a pergola of old worn stones supporting clusters of vines and a flagged walk bordered with little shrubs. Beyond again were trees cutting off further view. But over them, clear in the sunlight, showed the wonderful mountain we had seen from afar, its great snow-peaks vivid against the blue of the northern sky. We went down the straight grey path into the trees beyond, and again she checked us while she looked ahead. As she looked, we heard voices, and suddenly Aryenis darted forward, calling out as she went. We waited a minute or two, and then followed her through the trees, and there in front of us was a little open space of sun-dried grass and a low stone house in the centre. Beyond, more trees, and then fold after fold of hills stretching away toward the great mountain, terraced hills covered with trees and verdure, and nestled here and there little brown villages. And in the open space ahead Aryenis, in my grey flannel trousers, in the arms of a tall, grey-haired man, clothed in short, fawn-coloured smock and jerkin of bright steel mail with a blue leather belt, from which hung a short straight sword. Around the two were several men similarly clad, most of them with steel caps on, and farther back by the house some horses, and other men, more roughly clad, with slung quivers and great bows across their backs. All were talking volubly and excitedly. As we came out they looked toward us, and Aryenis, turning, seized the tall man by both hands and dragged him up to us. She was laughing and crying all at once. We stopped as they came up, and she pointed me out to the older man, talking excitedly the while in some strange tongue. He listened gravely for a minute, then he stepped forward and laid both hands on my shoulders, speaking very slowly and distinctly in Greek like Aryenis. “Sir, my daughter and I thank you. You have given her life, and me the light of my life. Such debts are beyond repayment, but what we can we will do.” Then he half-drew his sword and thrust the hilt into my hands, a gesture which I learnt later implied that he placed himself, his sword, and all his belongings at my disposal for all time. “Sir,” said I, not to be outdone, “the fortune is mine that I have been able to help your daughter. But my companions have as much hand in the matter as I,” and I pressed Forsyth forward. The old man laid his hands on the doctor’s shoulders and greeted him, thanking him for what he had done. In the meantime Aryenis had pulled up another man, a tall straight young fellow with the most pleasing, open, frank face I have ever seen. A typical lad of the type that you would mark down for your regiment if you could get him.