For he ruled his playmates imperiously. The _arabya_ drivers who gave him many a lift along the roads, the _zaptiehs_ whose rifles he handled, and whose stories he listened to breathlessly, down to the Turkish and Armenian boys of his own age, recognised without question his imperious will. He was "John effendi" in the eyes of all the inhabitants of Amasia, not only because he was the son of the Englishman, but also by reason of that will to rule. But there was one follower of John effendi who not only respected and obeyed, but worshipped silently. It was Ali, the son of the watermill owner. Ali was a Turk and proud of his blood. He was a year older than John, tall, and in a different way quite as notable as his friend. He had fair wavy hair, always kept close-cropped. His whole life had been spent playing on the banks of the Yeshil Irmak, or the Iris as it was popularly called, and his young body was lithe and brown as a panther's. When he moved it was with the sleek grace of that animal. The muscles slid under their satiny sheaths with a suggestion of cryptic strength. He could run like a hare and swim like an otter, accomplishments which quickly endeared him to John who was his rival in all these things. Ali, by his father's position,--for he was a well-to-do, judged by oriental standard--though more because of his own spirit and strength, was a boy who reigned among his companions. Only to one was he known to give way, to John, whom he followed with an intense, doglike devotion. It was of Ali that John was thinking this morning as he sat on the verandah. Where was Ali now? Probably he had gone to the mosque with his father, for it was nearing noon. He wondered whether Ali would come round to the house. They had planned a great adventure for that day. They were to meet by the market drinking-fountain at eleven o'clock and then to climb the great rock on whose summit stood the castle. Ali's uncle, the warden, was going to show them all the dungeons and court rooms. It would have been a wonderful treat, and now he had been forbidden to leave the gardens because of a silly suspicion of his father's. Last night they had heard the drums droning even louder than usual. The sound grew to such a volume that the whole gorge had reverberated with it, and it had awakened him although he always slept soundly. At breakfast his father had looked worried, and it was plain to see from Anna's nervousness that something was upsetting them. His father had been in the garden soon after rising, and he heard him tell Anna that Achmed was like a bear with a sore head. Then Anna did a mean thing. She said, "Do you think that John should go up to the Castle, sir," and his father immediately said "No." It was in vain that he pleaded that Ali expected him. Ali would have to go alone, he was forbidden to leave the garden.