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Privilege Of Selection As To The Words. They Were Born Of

Themselves.

He Waited then,  Blanched and Hopeless,  For Death To Wing

Out Of The Darkness And Strike Him Down. He Heard A Voice. The

Voice Said: " Do You Speak English? " For One Or Two Seconds

He Could Not Even Understand English,  And Then The Great Fact

Swelled up And Within Him. This Voice With All Its New Quavers

Was Still Undoubtedly The Voice Of Prof. Harrison B.Wainwright

Of Washurst College

A Change Flashed over Coleman As If It Had Come From An

Electric Storage. He Had Known The Professor Long,  But He Had

Never Before Heard A Quaver In his Voice,  And It Was This Little

Quaver That Seemed to Impel Him To Supreme Disregard Of The

Dangers Which He Looked upon As Being the Final Dangers. His

Own Voice Had Not Quavered.

When He Spoke,  He Spoke In a Low Tone,  It Was The Voice Of

The Master Of The Situation. He Could Hear His Dupes Fluttering

There In the Darkness. " Yes," He Said,  " I Speak English. There

Is Some Danger. Stay Where You Are And Make No Noise." He

Was As Cool As An Iced drink. To Be Sure The Circumstances Had

In No Wise Changed as To His Personal Danger,  But Beyond The

Important Fact That There Were Now Others To Endure It With Him,

He Seemed able To Forget It In a Strange,  Unauthorized sense Of

Victory. It Came From The Professor'S Quavers.

Meanwhile He Had Forgotten The Dragoman,  But He Recalled

Him In time To Bid Him Wait. Then,  As Well Concealed as A Monk

Hiding in his Cowl,  He Tip-Toed back Into A Group Of People Who

Knew Him Intimately.

He Discerned two Women Mounted on Little Horses And About

Them Were Dim Men. He Could Hear Them Breathing hard. " It Is

All Right" He Began Smoothly. "You Only Need to Be Very Careful---"

Suddenly Out Of The Blackness Projected a Half

Phosphorescent Face. It Was The Face Of The Little Professor. He

Stammered. " We-We-Do You Really Speak English? " Coleman In

His Feeling of Superb Triumph Could Almost Have Laughed. His

Nerves Were As Steady As Hemp,  But He Was In haste And His

Haste Allowed him To Administer Rebuke To His Old Professor.

" Didn'T You Hear Me ? " He Hissed through His Tightening lips.

" They Are Fighting just Ahead Of Us On The Road And If You Want

To Save Yourselves Don'T Waste Time."

Another Face Loomed faintly Like A Mask Painted in dark Grey.

It Belonged to Coke,  And It Was A Mask Figured in profound

Stupefaction. The Lips Opened and Tensely Breathed out The

Name: " Coleman." Instantly The Correspondent Felt About Him

That Kind Of A Tumult Which Tries To Suppress Itself. He Knew That

It Was The Most Theatric Moment Of His Life. He Glanced quickly

Toward The Two Figures On Horseback. He Believed that One Was

Making foolish Gesticulation While The Other Sat Rigid And Silent.

This Latter One He Knew To Be Marjory. He Was Content That She

Did Not Move. Only A Woman Who Was Glad He Had Come But Did

Not Care For Him Would Have Moved. This Applied directly To

What He Thought He Knew Of Marjory'S Nature.

There Was Confusion Among The Students,  But Coleman

Suppressed it As In such Situation Might A Centurion. " S-S-Steady! "

He Seized the Arm Of The Professor And Drew Him

Forcibly Close. " The Condition Is This," He Whispered rapidly.

"We Are In a Fix With This Fight On Up The Road. I Was Sent After

You,  But I Can'T Get You Into The Greek Lines To-Night. Mrs.Wainwright

And Marjory Must Dismount And I And

My Man Will Take The Horses On And Hide Them. All

The Rest Of You Must Go Up About A Hundred feet Into

The Woods And Hide. When I Come Back,  I'Ll Hail You

And You Answer Low." The Professor Was Like Pulp In

His Grasp. He Choked out The Word "Coleman" In

Agony And Wonder,  But He Obeyed with A Palpable

Gratitude. Coleman Sprang To The Side Of The Shadowy

Figure Of Marjory. " Come," He Said Authoritatively.

She Laid In his Palm A Little Icy Cold Hand And Dropped

From Her Horse. He Had An Impulse To Cling to The

Small Fingers,  But He Loosened them Immediately,  Im-

Parting to His Manner,  As Well As The Darkness Per-

Mitted him,  A Kind Of Casual Politeness As If He Were

Too Intent Upon The Business In hand.   He Bunched

The Crowd And Pushed them Into The Wood. Then He

And The Dragoman Took The Horses A Hundred yards

Onward And Tethered them. No One Would Care If

They Were Stolen; The Great Point Was To Get Them

Where Their Noise Would Have No Power Of Revealing the Whole

Party. There Had Been No Further Firing.

After He Had Tied the Little Grey Horse To A Tree He

Unroped his Luggage And Carried the Most Of It Back

To The Point Where The Others Had Left The Road. He

Called out Cautiously And Received a Sibilant Answer.

He And The Dragoman Bunted among The Trees Until

They Came To Where A Forlorn Company Was Seated

Awaiting them Lifting their Faces Like Frogs Out Of A

Pond. His First Question Did Not Give Them Any

Assurance. He Said At Once: "Are Any Of You

Armed?" Unanimously They Lowly Breathed: "No."

He Searched them Out One By One And Finally Sank

Down By The Professor. He Kept Sort Of A Hypnotic

Handcuff Upon The Dragoman,  Because He Foresaw That

This Man Was Really Going to Be The Key To The Best

Means Of Escape. To A Large Neutral Party Wandering

Between Hostile Lines There Was Technically No Danger,

But Actually There Was A Great Deal. Both Armies Had

Too Many Irregulars,  Lawless Hillsmen Come Out To

Fight In their Own Way,  And If They Were Encountered

In The Dead Of Night On Such Hazardous Ground The

Greek Hillsmen With Their White Cross On A Blue Field

Would Be Precisely As Dangerous As The Blood-Hungry

Albanians. Coleman Knew That The Rational Way Was

To Reach The Greek Lines,  And He Had No Intention Of

Reaching the Greek Lines Without A Tongue,  And The

Only Tongue Was In the Mouth Of The Dragoman. He

Was Correct In thinking that The Professor'S Deep Knowledge Of

The Ancient Language Would Give Him Small Clue To The Speech

Of The Modern Greek.

As He Settled himself By The Professor The Band Of Students,

Eight In number Pushed their Faces Close.

He Did Not See Any Reason For Speaking. There Were Thirty

Seconds Of Deep Silence In which He Felt That All Were Bending to

Hearken To His Words Of Counsel The Professor Huskily Broke

The Stillness. Well *  * * What Are We To Do Now? "

Coleman Was Decisive,  Indeed absolute. "We'Ll Stay Here Until

Daylight Unless You Care To Get Shot."

" All Right," Answered the Professor. He Turned and Made A

Useless Remark To His Flock. " Stay Here."

Coleman Asked civilly,  " Have You Had Anything to Eat?

Have You Got Anything to Wrap Around You ? "

" We Have Absolutely Nothing," Answered the Professor. "

Our Servants Ran Away And * * And Then We Left Everything

Behind Us * * And I'Ve Never Been In such A Position In my Life."

Coleman Moved softly In the Darkness And Unbuckled some

Of His Traps. On His Knee He Broke The Hard Cakes Of Bread And

With His Fingers He Broke The Little Tablets Of Chocolate. These

He Distributed to His People. And At This Time He Felt Fully The

Appreciation Of The Conduct Of The Eight American College

Students They Had Not Yet Said A Word-With The

Exception Of The Bewildered exclamation From Coke. They All

Knew Him Well. In any Circumstance Of Life Which As Far As He

Truly Believed,  They Had Yet Encountered,  They Would Have

Been Privileged to Accost Him In every Form Of Their Remarkable

Vocabulary. They Were As New To This Game As,  Would Have

Been Eight Newly-Caught Apache Indians If Such Were Set To

Run The Elevators In the Tract Society Building. He Could See

Their Eyes Gazing at Him Anxiously And He Could Hear Their Deep-

Drawn Breaths. But They Said No Word. He Knew That They Were

Looking upon Him As Their Leader,  Almost As Their Saviour,  And He

Knew Also That They Were Going to Follow Him Without A Murmur

In The Conviction That He Knew Ten-Fold More Than They Knew. It

Occurred to Him That His Position Was Ludicrously False,  But,

Anyhow,  He Was Glad. Surely It Would Be A Very Easy Thing to

Lead Them To Safety In the Morning and He Foresaw The Credit

Which Would Come To Him. He Concluded that It Was Beneath His

Dignity As Preserver To Vouchsafe Them Many Words. His

Business Was To Be The Cold,  Masterful,  Enigmatic Man. It Might

Be Said That These Reflections Were Only Half-Thoughts In his

Mind. Meanwhile A Section Of His Intellect Was Flying hither And

Thither,  Speculating upon The Circassian Cavalry And The

Albanian Guerillas And Even The Greek Outposts.

He Unbuckled his Blanket Roll And Taking one Blanket Placed

It About The Shoulders Of The Shadow Which Was

Mrs.Wainwright. The Shadow Protested incoherently,. Hut He

Muttered "Oh That'S All Right." Then He Took His Other Blanket

And Went To The Shadow Which Was

Marjory. It Was Something like Putting a Wrap About The

Shoulders Of A Statue. He Was Base Enough To Linger In the

Hopes That He Could Detect Some Slight Trembling but As Far As

Lie Knew She Was Of Stone. His Macintosh He Folded around The

Body Of The Professor Amid Quite Senile Protest,  So Senile That

The Professor Seemed suddenly Proven To Him As An Old,  Old Man,  A Fact

Which Had Never Occurred to Washurst Or Her Children. Then He Went

To The Dragoman And Pre-Empted half Of His Blankets,  The

Dragoman Grunted but Coleman  It Would Not Do To Have This Dragoman

Develop A Luxurious Temperament When Eight American College

Students Were,  Without Speech,  Shivering in the Cold Night.

Coleman Really Begun To Ruminate Upon His Glory,  But He

Found That He Could Not Do This Well Without Smoking,  So He

Crept Away Some Distance From This Fireless,  Encampment,  And

Bending his Face To The Ground At The Foot Of A Tree He Struck A

Match And Lit A Cigar. His Retun To The Others Would Have Been

Somewhat In the Manner Of Coolness As Displayed on The Stage

If He Had Not Been Prevented by The  Necessity Of Making no

Noise. He Saw Regarding him As Before The Dimly Visible Eyes Of

The Eight Students And Marjory And Her Father And Mother.

Then He Whispered the Conventional Words. " Go To Sleep If You Can.

You'Ll Need your Strength In the Morning. I And This Man Here Will Keep

Watch." Three Of The College Students Of Course Crawled up To

Him And Each Said: " I'Ll Keep Watch,  Old Man."

" No. We'Ll Keep Watch. You People Try To Sleep."

He Deemed that It Might Be Better To Yield The Dragoman His

Blanket,  And So He Got Up And Leaned against A Tree,  Holding his

Hand To Cover The Brilliant Point Of His Cigar. He Knew Perfectly

Well That None Of Them Could Sleep. But He Stood There

Somewhat Like A Sentry Without The Attitude,  But With All The

Effect Of Responsibility.

He Had No Doubt But What Escape To Civilisation Would Be

Easy,  But Anyhow His Heroism Should Be Preserved. He Was The

Rescuer. His Thoughts Of Marjory Were Somewhat In a Puzzle.

The Meeting had Placed him In such A Position That He Had

Expected a Lot Of Condescension On His Own Part. Instead She

Had Exhibited about As Much Recognition Of Him As Would A

Stone Fountain On His Grandfather'S Place In connecticut. This

In His Opinion Was Not The Way To Greet The Knight Who Had

Come To The Rescue Of His Lady. He Had Not Expected it So To

Happen. In fact From Athens To This Place He Had Engaged

Himself With Imagery Of Possible Meetings. He Was Vexed,

Certainly,  But,  Far