could not break, and fighting for breath, balance and something more.

One of the gipsies, who had not seen the need of hurrying to Maga's
aid, now proved the soundness of his judgment by divining Kagig's
purpose and tossing several new faggots on the already prodigious fire.

"Good!" barked Kagig, bending the struggling German this and that
way as it pleased him.

Seeing our man with the upper hand, Monty and Rustum Khan now hurried
into the melee, where two Turkish officers and eight zaptieh were
fighting to keep Maga from four gipsies and us three. Nobody had
seen fit to shoot, but there was a glimmering of cold steel among
the shadows like lightning before a thunder-storm. Monty used his
fists. Rustum Khan used the flat of a Rajput saber. Maga, leaving
most of her clothing in the Turk's hands, struggled free and in another
second the Turks were on the defensive. Rustum Khan knocked the
revolver out of an officer's hand, and the rest of them were struggling
to use their rifles, when the German shrieked. All fights are full
of pauses, when either side could snatch sudden victory if alert
enough. We stopped, and turned to look, as if our own lives were
not in danger.

Kagig had the German off his feet, face toward the flames, kicking
and screaming like a madman. He whirled him twice--shouted a sort
of war-cry--hove him high with every sinew in his tough frame cracking
--and hurled him head-foremost into the fire.

The Turks took the cue to haul off and stand staring at us. We all
withdrew to easier pistol range, for contrary to general belief,