On half-holidays the boys were in the habit of going to town, to shop or to visit their friends, and on a certain Saturday, in the month of February, they had all gone off in various groups, and the college was deserted. Garabed and Archag took advantage of the warm spring sunshine to climb one of the hills which rise above the city toward the south. Here, seated on a tombstone—these hills are covered with graves—they ate their frugal luncheon of bread and cheese and olives, and when they had finished, Garabed wiped his oily fingers, and drew from his zouboun a book wrapped in newspaper.

“What have you got there?” asked Archag.

“Djelaleddin!”

Archag clapped his hands:

“Oh, Garabed, how splendid! How did you ever get hold of it? I’ve been nearly wild myself, thinking I could never get a chance to read our great Raffi.1

“Yes, the book has been forbidden by our Padishah (sultan) on pain of imprisonment for life, and if Dr. Mills were to know that you had read it, he would send you packing this very day. Are you surprised? You see Dr. Mills has had to take oath before the Vali (governor) that he will not disseminate the new ideas among us. Ali Pasha keeps watch, and if he should ever discover that our college was a center of liberalism he would close it the very next day. Now our president knows that, and he is very careful.”

“But how did you manage to get this Raffi?”

“Ghevont lent it to me this morning.”

Garabed turned the pages of the old book affectionately; its leaves were yellow and stained.

“Listen to this passage, where Sarkat, returning from the towns, finds his own village in flames: ‘After a march of several hours he perceived a red light in the distance, becoming alternately brighter and fainter; now shooting up in writhing flames, now motionless, the stream of fire, fed by fresh fuel, spreading farther and farther.’ And this other bit: ‘When,’ thought he, ‘the lamb is obliged to live near the wolf, it must try to make wolf’s teeth of its own, that it may not become the other’s prey.’”

Archag listened eagerly to these words.

“Yes, Sarkat is right,” said he. “Why don’t we defend ourselves? Why don’t we make a struggle for our independence? Look at the Serbians, the Bulgarians, the Greeks; they have been fighting the Turks for years; Europe has been thrilled with joy at the noble deeds of Canaris, and Kolokotronis and Botsaris,2 and at last sent effective aid to the Hellenes. Let us do the same.”

“But our people are ignorant, and stagnating in servitude; few of them know the use of arms.”

“Then they must be taught, and supplied with arms.”

“Who will do that?”

“We, the young men, who have the strength and the faith for it.”

“Ah, my dear friend! I knew you would say that!” and Garabed grasped his hand warmly.... “You are worthy of becoming one of us. Listen: other men have had your thoughts. They have longed to arouse our people from their lethargy, to teach them their duty and their value, so that when the accursed Kurd shall sound the tocsin for fresh massacres, we shall not be taken unaware as formerly, but be ready to conquer or die. Secret societies have been formed; revolutionary groups have been organized in our towns, and they get recruits among all classes of society. You will find fÉdai (revolutionaries) in the bazaar, in the fields, even in the serail, and in our schools.”

“In our college? It can’t be possible!”

“It’s a fact, though, and you can understand how cautious we have had to be, to keep from being discovered. It has been so hard for me not to speak of it to you, my best friend, but our chief forbade it; to-day he has given me leave, and I’m going to ask you to join our group of fÉdai.”

“With all my heart, my dear Garabed, and as soon as possible.”

“Pek-et (very well), we shall admit you this evening.”

“What time?”

“Wait for me at half-past eight, and we’ll go out together.”

Archag was full of enthusiasm; he felt that he had become a man, and a worker for the good of his country. He hid the book under his zouboun, and the two friends went down the hill, and made their way back to the college.

During study-hour Archag looked at the clock very often; he had equations to solve, but the work did not go on well, for all the time he was thinking over what Garabed had said. At last he closed his copy-book in vexation, counting on finishing his task in the morning. It was only eight o’clock, and he opened his English reading-book for the sake of appearances, for Badvili Melikian had spoken to him several times already. At last the clock struck the half-hour. The boys always had an hour for recreation before going to bed, and most of them went to the library to read the newspapers and the American magazines. Archag and Garabed ran downstairs to the hall where Ghevont, president of the fÉdai, was waiting for them. He was a silent, reserved boy, but very intelligent, and always among the first in his class. He came from Brousa, had lived in Cyprus and Jerusalem, and was considered a person of consequence by his fellow students, because of his numerous journeys by ship and rail.

The three boys went out of the building without saying a word. They went toward the enclosure at the end of the campus, which was the burial-place of missionaries who had died at Aintab, and there they sat down on an old tombstone which had fallen over during the winter. Garabed kept watch, while Ghevont read to Archag the demands of the society:

1. Political and economic liberty, based on local autonomy and federated ties, as the inherent right of an integral part of the Ottoman Empire.

2. Liberty of conscience, of speech, of the press, and of assembly and association.

3. Separation of Church and State.

4. Absolute equality of all nationalities and all religious organizations.

5. Inviolability of the individual, of the home, and of correspondence.

6. Liberty of removal (of traveling from place to place).

When Ghevont had finished reading, he held out a wooden crucifix to Archag, and said:

“Repeat my words: I swear upon this emblem of our religion never to betray our society; to be a faithful fÉdai; to be obedient and devoted even to the point of imprisonment and death. In the name of the Virgin, Sourp Krikor, and Sourp Thaddeus, patrons of Haiastan (Armenia). So be it. Amen.”

Archag repeated the oath in a low voice, kissed the crucifix, and made the sign of the cross three times.

“Garabed,” said Ghevont, “will you admit Archag to our society? Will you guarantee his good faith?”

“Yes.”

“Very well then, that being so, I dedicate you, Archag, a fÉdai, by this brotherly kiss.”

The first duty of the fÉdai being to help their compatriots, according to their means and ability, it was decided that Archag should go to town every Saturday to conduct a class in Armenian for illiterate adults, at the school of Sourp NersÈs. Garabed himself was giving free instruction in English to members of the Gregorian union.

The three boys were stirred by their common enthusiasm. Armenia seemed to them like a bride, very fair and very pure, to whose service they were dedicated in knightly fashion. Gazing into the starlit night, they saw their country transformed and their people happy. Garabed began to sing softly the March of the Dachnaktzoutioun (revolutionary society), and the voices of the others joined him: