He furtively stooped and picked from the tangled clematis a crude rag doll, and slipped it into the tail pocket of the long coat. His little blue-eyed sister at home had once possessed such a doll, and this ruined house touched a very tender spot in his heart. The Turkish Major, white-haired, erect and slender, was strolling away through the stumps of what had been a pear orchard before the ax of the vandal had laid it low. Curtis was following, holding the crooked simitar clumsily away from his hip. Lindbohm wiped a tear from the corner of his eye with the back of his big pink hand. "It's nice to have a wife and children," he mused, "to love them and bring them up. I'll help him find her, and then--America!" They came to a broad white road cutting in twain the level greenness of an interminable vineyard. The vines along the highway were powdered white with dust and the dusty little grapes, green and hard, gave small comfort to the thirsty wayfarer. The three pedestrians cast their eyes down the long, shining stretch, over which the heat quivered visibly. They were standing beneath an olive tree at the edge of the rocky and wooded tract through which they had come. The only other shade visible for at least a mile was that made by a solitary brush watch-tower, far out in mid-field. The Turk sat down upon a rock, and, removing his fez, fanned with it his scanty gray locks. "Do you know?" he asked, smiling sweetly at his companions, "the proverb of this country concerning people who walk in the sun?" They said they had not heard it. "It is 'Only fools and Englishmen walk in the sun.'" "Ah," said Curtis, laughing. "I remember now that I have heard it, but it was not exactly like that. It was 'fools and foreigners' when I heard it. Now I understand why you Turks are called the 'French of the orient.' It is because of your politeness." Hassan Bey protested feebly and drowsily. Sleep, more powerful in the orient even than politeness, was overcoming him. He settled himself comfortably against the trunk of the olive tree; his head lolled to one side and his mouth dropped open. "It would be a pity to wake him," said Curtis. The relaxed features looked tired and old. "He's not a bad sort, as Turks go, and he does look done up." "He's a brave man," said Lindbohm. "Let him sleep for a little while," and the Swede, sitting down upon a flat rock, with his face between his palms, gazed at a little patch of sea, glittering far away, like a lake among mountains. Curtis lay down upon his back, with his fingers interlocked behind his head, and watched the innumerable twinkling of the pale green olive leaves above him. "I've been in this island so long," he mused, "that I don't believe I shall be able to go around the world. Shame, too, as the governor had sort of set his heart on it. I haven't spent much money in Crete, it's true, but I promised to be back and take hold in the office."