The tschorbadji drew him away more rapidly, that Mohammed might not
hear him. He had looked back and perceived that Mohammed was
standing still, gazing at them with a threatening eye, and, in
reality with the bearing of a lion prepared for the deadly spring.

When they had disappeared, Osman rose from his cushions, stood up,
threw his arms around his friend's neck, and kissed his quivering
lips.

"I thank you, my hero, my king, my lion! You stood there like David
before Goliath, and overthrew him in the dust. You made the insolent
giant small, you hero. I thank you, my Mohammed!"




CHAPTER XI

THE REVOLT.


The great square which lay in the centre of the village of Praousta
resounded with wild outcries and clamorings. All the men of the
place had assembled by the sea shore; they were generally honest,
peaceful sailors, but today they were raging rebels roused to revolt
against those in authority, and refusing obedience to the
tschorbadji.

Two pale, trembling men stood in the midst of the revolting crowd.
They were evidently Turks, by their closely-fitting uniforms, and