"A crime! A crime!" I interrupted. "To think of it, when I, a humble
soldier, have dozens of them at home! I should be honored if you would
allow me--" My voice trailed off suggestively.

"How could you get one?" he asked.

"Oh, I have friends here in Saffêd but I _must_ be able to sleep in a
nice place."

"Of course; certainly. What would you suggest?"

"That hotel kept by the Jewish widow might do," I replied.

More amenities were exchanged, the upshot of which was that my four
friends and I were given permission to sleep at the inn--a humble place,
but infinitely better than the mosque. It was all perfectly simple.

[ILLUSTRATION: SOLDIERS' TENTS IN SAMARIA]




CHAPTER III

THE GERMAN PROPAGANDA


So passed the days of our training, swiftly, monotonously, until the
fateful December morning when the news came like a thunderbolt that