"How much are you paying for the forage of your horses?" now inquired Vankovitch, who had returned with the hare in his hand.
"About seven shillings a day."
The Pole began to laugh.
"Seven shillings! Do you know, my dear sir, that your Turkish servant is robbing you?"
"Very likely," I replied. "Most servants rob their masters. But what is the price of a horse's forage for a day?"
"About one-and-a-half piastres, or at the present rate of exchange about twopence of your money. And chickens," continued Vankovitch, "what has he made you pay for them in the different villages on your route?"
"A shilling a piece."
"He is a thief," said the Pole, "you have been awfully cheated! why, the price in the town is only three halfpence for a fat chicken! When we return to Yuzgat, send for your man, and let me ask him a few questions. You shall not be robbed any more if I can help it. It is a bad thing for other European travellers, and it gives the inhabitants a lesson in robbery. There was a Russian officer here a few years ago. He had been paying as much as a medjidi a day for each of his horses. However, he was a Russian, and it did not so much matter."
The following day I went to see the Armenian schools. In one of them I found 200 girls who, for Turkey, were receiving a fair education. Most of them could read and write. A class for learning embroidery was well attended, some of the elder girls' work being very neatly finished. There were two Mohammedan children in a sewing class. I was informed that many of the Mussulmans had expressed a wish to send their children to the school.
"Perhaps you would like to ask the boys some questions," said a priest who accompanied me through the building.