"Gentlemen," expostulated the Turk, as he came up out of breath. "I assure you that this is madness in this hot sun. I was about to propose that we wait for two or three hours in the shade, and walk the rest of the way in the cool of the evening. See, your head even is uncovered," and taking the handkerchief which was hanging by one corner from Lindbohm's hand, he twisted it dexterously about the Swede's brow. "It did not till this moment strike me forcibly that they may be bombarding Canea," explained Lindbohm, "and even now it does not seem possible to me." He talked as one apologizing partly to himself and partly to another, for a serious offense. "But the young lady in whom my friend here is--ah--interested, is in that city. We must go to her rescue." Emphasizing the remark with a violent thrust, he again hurried forward. The sun beat down with fearful intensity, but the tall Swede forged along the dusty road with doubled fists and a swinging stride. Curtis wondered afterward that the curious figure had not impressed him as ludicrous; with the long tails of the shrunken coat falling apart, the pompadour standing erect in the encircling handkerchief, like a field of ripe wheat in a fence, the huge fists striking at the trickling beads of sweat, as though they were living things. But no, old Lindbohm was never ridiculous, and Curtis struck out after him, his arm aching with the heavy saber, that would fall between his legs the moment he let it go. "Lindbohm was right, of course. Poor Panayota, what a fright she must be in!" In utter silence they strode ahead. The Turk said nothing, although he marveled and suffered greatly. He owed his life to these foreigners, and he had determined to see them safely into Canea. If they chose to go there in the broiling sun, and into a storm of cannon balls, and all for a unit in the tribe of women who are as the blades of grass--all alike, why it was "kismet." The four soldiers followed because he was their officer, and a Turkish soldier always goes stupidly wherever his officer goes, whether to a massacre of Christian babes or a hell of belching cannon. So, for a full hour they walked, till at last they came into a region of gardens, fenced in with high stone walls, and suddenly, from around a corner came a man, carrying a small child and holding a woman by the hand. The couple stopped and looked about them in a perplexity of terror. Then the woman leaped up and seizing the top of the wall, bristling as it was with broken glass, scrambled over like a cat. The man tossed the baby after her and followed. Curtis and Lindbohm both turned and looked inquiringly at the Turk.