"All the better, Effendi," was the reply; "we shall ride over a number of stones on the road to Kars, and a little sooner or later for the horses does not make much difference."
The steeds were now led in, accompanied by their owner, a wall-eyed Turk. They were not much to look at, if one estimated them from an English standard, but I had learnt, in previous travels that one cannot always judge of Eastern horses by their appearance. I desired my English servant, Radford, to mount the best-looking one of the lot, a little black, about fourteen hands high. He was very thin, and looked as if he had never been given a good feed of corn, but his legs were fine and hard. He put down his feet flat when he walked, and did not go on his toes, which last is a fatal defect to a horse if about to march for many days in succession. Radford eyed the animal from head to foot.
"Lor! sir," he said, "this 'ere horse will never carry me. He ain't got no shoulders!"
"Never mind," I replied. "Jump on him and try."
There was no saddle, and my man had to mount bare back. "Very good," I added, as the animal appeared to carry his burden without any difficulty, "take him round at a hard canter."
The little brute now began to pull hard, and bounded over the rough stones in a way that showed he was well accustomed to such obstacles.
"Does he pull?" I inquired.
"Pull, sir? He pulls my harms off!"
This was enough for me, and I determined to buy the animal; as a horse that walks well, and will pull with fourteen stone on his back, is not a bad one for a long journey.
The next one produced for my inspection was covered with a rug, the other horses not being provided with any such clothing.