Then added Mohammed triumphantly, "Why does he do so; he ought to be delighted at the chance of speedily going to Paradise, and yet Effendi, according to you, the Christian does his best to postpone the pleasure."
The track now became very bad, it led several times across the river which was spanned by rickety wooden bridges. The may-trees were in full blossom. The voices of a thousand songsters chirruping amidst the branches echoed over the waters.
We enter what appears to be a vast amphitheatre. The Coliseum at Rome on a gigantic scale lies before us. Its walls are represented by a circular range of hills, the boxes looking down upon the arena by numerous châlets, they jut forth from the slopes. An enormous rock faces us. It stands out on one side of the amphitheatre, and might have been an emperor's throne. The boxes grow larger as we ride across the arena. The resemblance fades away. A speck appears on the crest of a neighbouring height; bigger and bigger it becomes.
"Kale, or the old fortress of Ardanusch," says our guide, pointing to it. Soon afterwards we put up for the night in a house belonging to the Caimacan of the district. This official informed me that it was only an eighteen hours' march to Akiska, the Russian frontier station. The road to the border was a good one; artillery could be brought along it. There were no troops in Ardanusch, and the governor was much alarmed lest the Russians should commence the war by an attack upon his town. Whilst we were conversing, a servant brought him a letter which had been sent on by special messengers from Ardahan.
The Caimacan opened the envelope. "War!" he cried. "An order has come for me to call out all the Mostaphas (the last reserve) in this district. The Government would have never put itself to this expense unless our Padishah had felt sure that war was inevitable."
Leaving me, the governor went out to give the necessary orders for the execution of the Sultan's mandate.
We continued onward to Livana; the track was sometimes so narrow that we had to ride or lead our horses in Indian file. Now we come to a place where ten men could defend the road against an army, and then to a spot where the path has given way altogether, and fallen into the stream below. Our guide reins his horse backward. It is impossible to turn. We essay another route, and presently again strike the river. A large cayek was anchored by the bank. A man coming up to me proposed that we should go in his boat to Batoum.
"How much money do you want for taking us there?" I inquired.
"Ten liras, Effendi."
"Go away, sheep's son!" ejaculated Mohammed indignantly; "we will ride to Livana, which is only four hours' march from here; and then, if it pleases the Effendi to entrust himself to a boatman, I will get a ship for two liras—rascal that you are to ask ten liras for the hire of your little cayek!"