We were among the hills now, great, rocky, black slopes, and, seen through side glens, a hinterland of snowy peaks. I remember I kept looking for the castrol I had seen in my dream. The thing had never left off haunting me, and I was pretty clear now that it did not belong to my South African memories. I am not a superstitious man, but the way that little kranz clung to my mind made me think it was a warning sent by Providence. I was pretty certain that when I clapped eyes on it I would be in for bad trouble.
All morning we travelled up that broad vale, and just before noon it spread out wider, the road dipped to the water’s edge, and I saw before me the white roofs of a town. The snow was deep now, and lay down to the riverside, but the sky had cleared, and against a space of blue heaven some peaks to the south rose glittering like jewels. The arches of a bridge, spanning two forks of the stream, showed in front, and as I slowed down at the bend a sentry’s challenge rang out from a block-house. We had reached the fortress of Erzingjan, the headquarters of a Turkish corps and the gate of Armenia.
I showed the man our passports, but he did not salute and let us move on. He called another fellow from the guardhouse, who motioned us to keep pace with him as he stumped down a side lane. At the other end was a big barracks with sentries outside. The man spoke to us in Turkish, which Hussin interpreted. There was somebody in that barracks who wanted badly to see us.
“By the waters of Babylon we sat down and wept,” quoted Blenkiron softly. “I fear, Major, we’ll soon be remembering Zion.”
I tried to persuade myself that this was merely the red tape of a frontier fortress, but I had an instinct that difficulties were in store for us. If Rasta had started wiring I was prepared to put up the brazenest bluff, for we were still eighty miles from Erzerum, and at all costs we were going to be landed there before night.
A fussy staff-officer met us at the door. At the sight of us he cried to a friend to come and look.
“Here are the birds safe. A fat man and two lean ones and a savage who looks like a Kurd. Call the guard and march them off. There’s no doubt about their identity.”
“Pardon me, Sir,” I said, “but we have no time to spare and we’d like to be in Erzerum before the dark. I would beg you to get through any formalities as soon as possible. This man,” and I pointed to the sentry, “has our passports.”
“Compose yourself,” he said impudently; “you’re not going on just yet, and when you do it won’t be in a stolen car.” He took the passports and fingered them casually. Then something he saw there made him cock his eyebrows.
“Where did you steal these?” he asked, but with less assurance in his tone.