"And here's mine," said Curtis. "I'm an American. And this gentleman is a Turkish officer. We were coming across the country on foot, and he said we were in danger of being massacred, so he took us to his house and kept us there till the English landed, and here--here's my passport, too, if you can manage to read it. It's been in the water." "What do you want to do now, sir?" "We have friends inside," replied Lindbohm, "and we wish to find out whether they are safe or not. We wish to go in." "Very sorry, gentlemen, but we 'ave strict horders to admit no one for the present." "But we two are not Turks--nor Cretans. I am a Swede, and my friend here is an American." "Very sorry, gentlemen----" "But this may be a matter of life and death! A Christian lady, the betrothed of this young gentleman, is in the hands of the Turks----" "Very sorry, gentlemen. Move away from the gate, please." Lindbohm was too good a soldier not to know what that meant. So they went to a house near by, belonging to a friend of the Major, and waited two whole days, during the most of which time the Swede and the American had the place to themselves, for the Major and his friend were arrested and carried off before the end of the first day. They went repeatedly to the gate, demanding admittance, and were refused as often by the sentinels, until the third morning, when they were greeted with a smile and a "Hit's hall right now, gentlemen; you may henter--'im givin' hup 'is sword, which will be restored to 'im at 'eadquarters." Lindbohm raised his hand in military salute to his red bandanna and passed under the ancient archway. Curtis handed over the simitar and followed. "D'yever see two such guys?" asked one red jacket of the other. "Never'n me loife. But the tall one's a soldier, all right. D'ye see 'im s'loot?" [Illustration: ... had they entered any other town in the world, their grotesque appearance would have excited attention] Now, had two men attired as were Curtis and Lindbohm at that moment entered any other town in the world, their grotesque appearance would have excited attention, not to say jeers, and a crowd of small boys would have been following at their heels. The gray Prince Albert was wrinkled and faded, and so badly shrunken that it caused Lindbohm's arms to fall a trifle akimbo. Altogether, it was a garment very inharmonious with the tall yellow boots into which his trousers were tucked, and the gaudy handkerchief which, twisted about his brow, did service for a hat. He had picked up a slender stick, which took the place of the bamboo cane, and with which he occasionally warded off an imaginary thrust, as he strode up the street, looking eagerly about him. Curtis' once natty business suit had been torn in several places. He also wore Cretan boots, and his costume was completed by a Turkish fez provided by the hospitable Major, who had managed, in addition, to afford his two guests a bath, and an opportunity to shave.