An impatient group of Janissaries was standing round their kettle, which
was placed on the top of a lofty iron tripod, and amongst them we notice
Halil Patrona and Musli. Both were wearing the Janissary dress, with
round turbans in which a black heron's plume was fastened (only the
officers wore white feathers), with naked calves only half-concealed by
the short, bulgy pantaloons which scarce covered the knee. There was
very little of the huckster of the day before yesterday in Halil's
appearance now. His bold and gallant bearing, his resolute mode of
speech, and the bountiful way in which he scattered the piastres which
he had received from Janaki, had made him a prime favourite among his
new comrades. Musli, on the other hand, was still drunk. With desperate
self-forgetfulness he had been drinking the health of his friend all
night long, and never ceased bawling out before his old cronies in front
of the tent of the Janissary Aga that if the Aga, whose name was Hassan,
was indeed as valiant a man as they tried to make out, let him come
forth from beneath his tent and not think so much of his soft bearskin
bed, or else let him give his white heron plume to Halil Patrona and let
him lead them against the enemy.
The Janissary Aga could hear this bellowing quite plainly, but he also
could hear the Janissary guard in front of the tent laughing loudly at
the fellow and making all he said unintelligible.
Meanwhile a troop of mounted ciauses was approaching the kettle of the
first Janissary regiment in whose leader we recognise Halil Pelivan.
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