cinder slab.

This time Hans von Quedlinburg obeyed. For one thing the pain of
his burns was beginning to tell on him, but he could see, too, that
he had lost prestige with his party.

"Throw down your weapons!" he ordered savagely.

But he had lost more prestige than he knew, or else he had less in
the beginning than be counted on. The Turkish lieutenant--a man
of about forty with the evidence of all the sensual appetites very
plainly marked on his face--laughed and brought his men to attention.
Then he made a kind of half-military motion with his hand toward
each of us in turn, ignoring Kagig but intending to convey that we
at any rate need not feel anxious.

It was Maga Jhaere who solved the riddle of that impasse. She was
hardly in condition to appear before a crowd of men, for the Turks
bad torn off most of her clothes, and she had not troubled to find
others. She was unashamed, and as beautiful and angry as a panther.
With panther suddenness she snatched the lieutenant's sword and pistol.

It suited neither his national pride nor religious prejudices to
be disarmed by a gipsy woman; but the Turk is an amazing fatalist,
and unexpectedness is his peculiar quality.

"Che arz kunam?" he muttered--the perennial comment of the Turk who
has failed, that always made Kagig bare his teeth in a spasm of contempt.
"Passing the buck to Allah," as Will construed it.