He was a lad of fifteen, sinewy, lithe as a greyhound, with dancing blue eyes and immensely strong shoulders. Under one arm he carried a long gun, a game-bag slung beneath the other; his legs were encased in yellow gaiters, and his slouch hat, with a peacock feather in the band, shaded bronzed resolute features. "Permit me to make known myselfs," he said, with an amiable smile, as he raised the slouch hat and disclosed a head crisped over with short dark curls. "I am Oscar Van Heidsteyn. And you are the good Smithsons of Constantinople, is it not so?" I languidly admitted that I was "the good Smithsons," and looked with interest at the picturesque crowd on Smyrna Quay as my boat pulled back to the ship which had brought me from Constantinople. A brawny ruffian stood beside Oscar Van Heidsteyn with a whole arsenal of weapons stuck about his person. This was the kavasse. His mustachios protruded like the whiskers of a truculent tomcat; but I felt reassured on noticing that his pistols had flint-locks only, and were as harmless as pop-guns. I was just in the convalescent stage after a sharp attack of typhoid fever, and most of my thoughts were concentrated on getting something to eat. No one ever would recover from typhoid if he ate all he wanted to when beginning to reach the convalescent stage. In all the sixteen years of my life I had never before lived in such a chronic state of starvation. Van Heidsteyn saw that I was very weak. At a sign from him, the kavasse slowly unslung most of his ponderous weapons, picked me up in his arms, and carried me, feebly kicking and expostulating, to the carriage. "What the dickens is he treating me like a baby for?" I asked. Van Heidsteyn wrapped the rug round me. "Oh, because you are one little babies!" he said. "You must make yourselfs to shut ups, or you will be ill again. Now here is the train. I will carry you into it like leap-frogs if you prefer it." I submitted to the indignity of being carried "like leap-frogs" into the ramshackle train. Three-quarters of an hour after the proper time, to a chorus of "Inshallahs" and "Mashallahs," we crawled out of the station into the beautiful country, still fresh with spring verdure. "Ah, that is betters!" said Van Heidsteyn, with a long breath of enjoyment. "I cannot live in the town." "Where did you learn your English?" I asked. Van Heidsteyn was busily engaged in opening a parcel of chicken sandwiches, and the odor thereof was as manna in my hungry nostrils. At a sign from him, the kavasse again picked me up, whilst Van Heidsteyn spread a rug on the seat of the carriage, and turned that gorgeous functionary's silk jacket into a soft pillow for my weary head. "Now you will feeds," said Van Heidsteyn, energetically. "Never mind my English languages. I have read it in books; and don't gobbles. When you have eaten, you shall have some wine and waters."