A few minutes before leaving Moltape, I went to the corporal, and put in his hand a dollar (medjidi), in return for the accommodation he had given me. There were several soldiers present. He declined the present with a grandiose air, adding that his home was mine, and that all strangers were welcome to the abode. However, a few minutes later, when I was alone, he approached, and putting out his hand, said, "Effendi, no one is looking, I will accept a present." Human nature in all countries is much the same. The corporal's demeanour before the soldiers much resembled that of a railway porter when offered a tip in the presence of a railway director.
We rode through a beautiful country. Our track lay across a plain. It was surrounded by undulating hills. Pretty villas with Venetian windows decked their crests. Vines, fig, and other fruit trees studded the rising slopes. A few hours later the path became very bad. We made our way across deep, half hidden ruts, which compelled us to advance with the greatest care for fear of breaking the horses' legs.
We ascend a steep incline, and then, far away in the distance, and across the bay of Ismid, are cone-shaped hills covered with fleecy snow.
The path turned, we rode along the seashore. The railway ran along the side of the track, now ascending in tortuous coils, now disappearing altogether from our view, to appear once more in the distance, and almost level with the azure deep. Not a ripple disturbed the surface of the waters; coloured rocks and stones met our gaze as we glanced into the abyss below; festoons of variegated sea-weed hung from the rugged cliffs.
The sun's rays were fierce and scorching. In spite of its being the month of December, there was a glare as if on a July day. I was not sorry when, on reaching the crest of an adjacent hill, Osman dismounted, and suggested a halt for lunch.
"A capital spot, Effendi," he remarked, "there is a spring of fresh water, a cave, and firewood. I have a beautiful goose, plump as a Georgian woman, in the saddle-bags. My brother," pointing to Radford, "shall cook him. Our stomachs grieve now, but soon they shall be comforted."
He led the way to a sort of cavity in the rock. A fire was kindled, and the goose, the subject of Osman's admiration, was shortly simmering on the embers.
Presently the track became worse, if possible, than before. Several wooden bridges over deep and narrow gullies had to be crossed. There were no parapets to the bridges. Here and there holes a foot square let us see the stream below. Then we traversed lanes of water, in some places up to the horses' girths. The Hammall went first, and wended his way with caution. Two ditches skirted the borders of the track; the rain had fallen heavily, and had one of our horses made a mistake or floundered, his rider would have found himself in at least six feet of water.
We were nearing Ismid, the Nicomedia of ancient history. Our tired animals seemed aware of its proximity; they quickened their pace. Very shortly afterwards we rode into the town. I had sent forward a messenger to tell the chief of the police that an English traveller was coming to Ismid, and to ask him to provide me with lodgings for the night, there being no hotels in the place.
I was met at the entrance of the town by a Zaptieh, or gendarme. Going before us, he led the way to a house kept by a Greek. Here I found two clean rooms furnished in the European fashion. The Zaptieh, after inquiring if I had any orders to give him, left the room, saying that he would report my safe arrival to the Pacha.