"Effendi," he said, leaning forward and pointing a forefinger at
me by way of emphasis, "there are castles on the mountains near Zeitoon
that have never been explored since the Turks--may God destroy them!
--overran the land! Castles hidden among trees where only bears dwell!
Castles built by the Seljuks--Armenians--Romans--Saracens--Crusaders!
I know the way to every one of them!"

"What else?" demanded Will, purposely incredulous.

"Beyond Zeitoon to north and west are cave-dwellers. Mountains so
hollowed out that only a shell remains, a sponge--a honeycomb! No
man knows how far those tunnels run! The Turks have attempted now
and then to smoke out the inhabitants. They were laughed at! One
mountain is connected with another, and the tunnels run for miles
and miles!"

"I've seen cave-dwellings in the States," Will answered, unimpressed.
"But just where do you come in?"

"I do not understand."

"What do you propose to get out of it?"

"Nothing! I am proud of my country. I am sportman. I am pleased
to show."

We both jeered at him, for that explanation was too outrageously
ridiculous. Armenians love money, whatever else they do or leave
undone, and can wring a handsome profit out of business whose very