"Wine, Effendi, in a Turkish house?" "Yes, wine; if you've got any, bring it on, I am tired and thirsty." "I think Ferende has some," suggested Souleima. "She drinks like a fish." "Umph! And I don't suppose you help her?" "Effendi, I swear--" commenced Souleima. "I don't even know the taste of it," protested Ayesha. "Silence, silence! and bring me some. And look here," as the decanter was set before him, "if I ever hear a lisp about my wine drinking I'll wring the necks of both of you--cackling old hens that you are. And now send Ferende to wait on me, and get out of my sight, the two of you. You take my appetite away. She at least is not a greasy old slattern." After the Effendi had eaten he betook himself to his chamber in search of much needed rest. Ferende followed him, but he pushed her from him, saying in a querulous and disgusted tone: "Get away from me, can't you? Darken the room and go. Shut the door, and if any of you women make a noise--eh, there, listen!" "Yes, Effendi." Ferende had nearly closed the door, but she opened it a little way and thrust her face back into the room. "Don't take Panayota up those cold fish. Fry her some hot ones, and give her some wine." The ex-favorite found the two elder wives whispering together in the garden. She walked straight up to them. "Let's be friends," she said. "We're all in the same boat, and must work together. In fact, you are worse off than I am, for I am younger and better looking than either of you!" This was not conciliatory language, but it accorded so well with what the two women had just been saying to each other, that they could make no reply. Each looked inquiringly at the other for a moment, and then Souleima asked: "Do you think he is in earnest?" "Absolutely. He would have no reason to parley with the girl, else. She is in his power." "We shall all be turned into the street," said Ayesha. "He would never dare," cried Souleima. "He has nothing against us. We are faithful, honest wives. It would make too great a scandal." "He will find a way," replied Ferende, coolly. "What shall we do? O, what shall we do?" sobbed the two elder wives. Poor things! They had no Virgin to take refuge with. "If she should fall ill and die!" suggested Souleima. Ferende started violently and turned pale. "No!" she cried, so loud that all three of them glanced apprehensively at the windows. Then lowering her voice: "Don't ever think of such a thing again. It's too dangerous. She must escape." "But the Effendi would kill us even for that." "It must be done in such a way that he will never suspect us." CHAPTER XXX A HERO AND A SIX-INCH SHELL "We must yust take our chances," said Lindbohm. "How far is it from here to the blockhouse?" Curtis was lying on his stomach behind a rock, with his rifle beside him. "About sixty or seventy rods," he replied. "Rods? What is a rod?" asked Lindbohm. The Yankee laughed.