Ali cast a keen look around. In a few moments he discovered what he sought--a gap in which the party might remain concealed. He led them through the narrow passage between two large masses of rock, turned the corner, and instructed them to cover the animals' heads with cloths. They were now within twenty yards of the track, but wholly out of sight from it.
Some ten minutes later they heard the ringing clatter of hoofs on the stones, and the voices of men. Peeping out, Frank and Ali watched the party ride by. By the side of a villainous-looking Kurd rode a big German in loose grey clothes with a blue sash about his ample waist. Behind came nine or ten Kurds variously attired, all armed to the teeth, mounted on horses laden with packs. It was a wild fierce group, and the Armenians, peering timorously round the edges of the rock, heaved a sigh of relief when the last of the party had disappeared. The sounds died away. When all was silent Ali chuckled a "Wallahy!" and led the way back to the track.
"Very near now, effendim," he said.
"I hope we are," rejoined Frank. "Joseph, I wonder whether Wonckhaus has got my carpet?"
"God forbid!" said Joseph solemnly.
CHAPTER II
CONCERNING A CARPET
Frank Forester was the son of the owner of a large oriental carpet business, whose headquarters was in Constantinople, with branches in several parts of Asia Minor and Persia. Except for his school years in England, Frank had lived all his life in the East. He spoke Turkish like a native, and could make himself understood in Arabic and in the various local dialects in which Turkish, Arabic, and Persian all have component parts.
For some months he had been in charge of the small branch house at Erzerum, where he conducted the business with the aid of Joseph, his Armenian clerk. A few days before the incident just related, a bazar rumour had come to his ears which suggested a promising stroke of business. It was to the effect that an important Kurdish chief, living about two days' journey to the south, had been so heavily squeezed by the Turkish governor of the province that he felt himself forced to raise money by parting with a very valuable old Persian carpet that had long been an heirloom in his family. Tradition said that it was part of the loot obtained by an ancestor of the chief at the sack of Shiraz during one of the civil wars that ravaged Persia in the seventeenth century. It held among his hereditary possessions the same place as a precious jewel or an Old Master among the treasures of a western house. The rumour that it was coming into the market caused as much excitement among carpet dealers as the announcement of the approaching sale of a Correggio or a Rembrandt would cause among the connoisseurs of New York.
Frank Forester was thrown into a flutter when the first whispers reached him. He had not hitherto taken an important part in his father's business, and it was only recently that he had been placed in charge of a branch. The chance of signalizing his stewardship by securing the carpet appealed to his imagination as well as his business instincts. But the problem was, how to bring off a deal with the chief. The old Kurd was not likely to condescend to travel to the town. On the other hand there would be some risk in making a journey to his mountain fastness. The country in which it lay bore the worst of reputations. Even the Turkish authorities never ventured into it without a strong military escort, amounting in fact to an expedition. The peaceful, timid Armenian traders would have ventured into a den of lions as soon as into the hill country where for centuries no Armenian had ever penetrated except as a captive.