"She may die and have no eggs, and then you would have lost ten piastres," said Osman. "Come, be quick," he added, "pick the turkey!" And giving the woman the money, the old dame retired to a little distance to prepare the bird for the pot.
When Radford had finished his cooking, and had helped me to some of the turkey, he put the remainder in my washing-basin, and handed it to Osman, for himself and the man with the pack-horses.
"Why do you not give them the cooking-pot, and let them eat out of it?" I inquired. "Perhaps they will not like eating out of my washing-basin."
"I thought of that, sir; but the pot is that hot that they would burn their fingers a-shoving them into it. Nasty, dirty fellows they are too; preferring dirty fingers to nice clean forks! But Osman, sir, he ain't that nice. He is the greediest feeder I ever see, he would eat out of a coal-scuttle sooner than not fill himself. See there, sir, he has got that turkey's leg. I knew he would have it! It was on the baggage-man's side of the basin, and Osman had eaten already one drumstick: the other ought to have gone to the chap with the horses. But Osman ain't got no conscience about eating, whatever he may have when he is flopping himself down on my coat and pretending to say his prayers."
After luncheon the two Turks were so long in loading the pack-horse that I determined to ride forward with Radford, and let the other men follow with the luggage. We had continued the journey for about an hour when, after ascending a hill, I turned round to see if there were any signs of my followers. Nothing was in sight except an Armenian woman, who was on horseback, she was riding cross-legged, and carried a baby in a handkerchief which was slung from her neck.
"Had she seen Osman?" I inquired.
"No," was the answer.
Desiring Radford to remain where he was, I galloped back in the direction of the farm-house. On arriving by the river-side a singular picture met my gaze. A pack-horse was dripping from head to foot, and was without his saddle. All the baggage was wet through. My cartridges, tea, sugar, and coffee were spoiled; Radford's bag, containing his pig tobacco, lay dripping wet by the side of the river. Osman was swearing violently at the man in charge of the pack-horses, and from time to time was administering to him a blow with a stick across the shoulders. The chastised individual was sobbing violently. On seeing me he threw himself down on the ground and began to embrace my knees.
"What has happened?" I inquired.
They both commenced speaking together.