True, the means of communication are more rapid the line is more direct, and by using the Grand Transasiatic which puts Pekin within a fortnight of the Prussian capital, the baron might halve the old time by Suez and Singapore—but—
“He will never do it!” I exclaimed.
“Why not?” asked Popof.
“Because he is always late. He nearly missed the train at Tiflis, he nearly missed the boat at Baku—”
“But he did not miss the start from Uzun Ada.”
“It doesn’t matter, Popof. I shall be much surprised if this German beats an American at globe trotting.”
CHAPTER VII.
The train arrived at Kizil Arvat, two hundred and forty-two versts from the Caspian, at thirteen minutes past seven in the evening instead of seven o’clock. This slight delay provoked thirteen objurgations from the baron, one for each minute.
We have two hours to wait at Kizil Arvat. Although the day is closing in, I could not employ my time better than in visiting this little town, which contains more than two thousand inhabitants, Russians, Persians and Turkomans. There is not much to see, however, either within it or around it; there are no trees—not even a palm tree—only pasturages and fields of cereals, watered by a narrow stream. My good fortune furnished me with a companion, or I should rather say a guide, in Major Noltitz.