in the air. You'll notice the Turkish muleteers are having nothing
whatever to say to our Zeitoonli, although they've accepted the same
service. Moslems are keeping together, and Armenians are getting
the silence cure. Armenians are even shy of speaking to one another.
I've tried listening, and I've tried asking questions, although that
was risky. I can't get a word of explanation. I've noticed, though,
that the ugly mood is broadening. They've been polite to me, but
I've heard the word shapkali applied more than once to you fellows.
Means hatted man, you know. Not a serious insult, but implies contempt."

--------------
* Turkish word: happenings, a euphemism for massacre.
--------------

Nothing but comfort and respectability ever seemed able to make Fred
gloomy. He discussed our present prospects with the air of an epicure
ordering dinner. And Monty listened with his dark, delightful smile
--the kindliest smile in all the world. I have seen unthoughtful
men mistake it for a sign of weakness.

I have never known him to argue. Nor did he then, but strode straight
down into the khan yard, we sitting on the balcony to watch. He
visited our string of mules first for an excuse, and invited a Kurdish
chieftain (all Kurds are chieftains away from home) to inspect a
swollen fetlock. With that subtle flattery he unlocked the man's
reserve, passed on from chance remark to frank, good-humored questions,
and within an hour had talked with twenty men. At last he called
to one of the Zeitoonli to come and scrape the yard dung from his
boots, climbed the stairs leisurely, and sat beside us.