"Let him come hither if he wants to talk to a Janissary!" cried many
voices. "Who ever heard of summoning a Janissary away from his camp?"
It was as much as Pelivan could do to restrain his fury.
"You two are murderers," said he, "you have killed the Sultan's
Berber-Bashi."
At this there was a general outburst of laughter. Everybody knew that
already. Musli had told the story hundreds of times with all sorts of
variations. He had described to them how Halil had slain Ali Kermesh
with a single blow of his fist, and how the latter's jaw had suddenly
fallen and collapsed into a corner, all of which had seemed very comical
indeed to the Janissaries.
So five or six of them, all speaking together, began to heckle and
cross-question Pelivan.
"Are there no more barbers in Stambul that you make such a fuss over
this particular one?"
"What an infamous thing to demand the lives of a couple of Janissaries
for the sake of a single beard-scraper!"
"May you and your Kapu-Kiaja have no other pastime in Paradise than the
shaving of innumerable beards!"
At last Patrona stepped forth and begged his comrades to let him have
_his_ say in the matter.
"Hearken now, Pelivan!" began he, "you and I are adversaries I know very
well, nor do I care a straw that it is so. I am not palavering now with
you because I want to get out of a difficulty, but simply because I want
to send you back to the Kiaja with a sensible answer which I am quite
sure you are incapable of hitting upon yourself.
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