if we could.

And instead of anticlimax second climax came. Almost before the
echoes of the drum-taps died among the dancing shadows overhead a
voice cried from the roof in Armenian, and Kagig rose to his feet.

"Let us climb to the roof and see, effendim," he said, pulling on
his tattered goat-skin coat.

"See what, Ermenie?" demanded Rustum Khan. The Rajput's eyes were
still ablaze with pagan flame, from watching Maga.

"To see whether thou hast manhood behind that swagger!" answered
Kagig, and led the way. No man ever yet explained the racial aversions.

"Kopek!--dog, thou!" growled the Rajput, but Kagig took no notice
and led on, followed by Monty and the rest of us. Maga and the gipsies
came last, swarming behind us up the ladder through a hole among
the beams, and clambering on to the roof over boxes piled in the
draughty attic. Up under the stars a man was standing with an arm
stretched out toward Tarsus.

"Look!" he said simply.

To the westward was a crimson glow that mushroomed angrily against
the sky, throbbing and swelling with hot life like the vomit of a
crater. We watched in silence for three minutes, until one of the
gipsy women began to moan.

"What do you suppose it is?" I asked then.