suggested Fred.

"But our friends of Tarsus warn us the worst fury of all will be
in the cities!"

"Take to the hills, then!" Monty advised him.

"But how can we, sir? How can we? We have homes--property--children!
We are watched. The first attempt by a number of us to escape to
the hills would bring destruction down on all!"

"Then escape to the hills by twos and threes. You ask my advice
--I give it."

It looked like very good advice. The slopes of the foot-hills seemed
covered by a carpet of myrtle scrub, in which whole armies could
have lain in ambush. And above that the cliffs of the Kara Dagh
rose rocky and wild, suggesting small comfort but sure hiding-places.

"You'll never make me believe you Armenians haven't hidden supplies,"
said Monty. "Take to the hills until the fury is over!"

But the old man shook his head, and his people seemed at one with
him. These were not like our Zeitoonli, but wore the settled gloom
of resignation that is poor half-brother to Moslem fanaticism, caught
by subjection and infection from the bullying Turk. There was nothing
we could do at that late hour to overcome the inertia produced by
centuries, and we rode on, ourselves infected to the verge of misery.
Only our Zeitoonli, striding along like men on holiday, retained
their good spirits, and they tried to keep up ours by singing their