"So should I," said the schoolmaster.
The mercury in the thermometer fell very much during the night. It was a frosty morning. The steep streets of Arabkir were extremely slippery. It was difficult enough for a man on foot to avoid falling; as we led our horses down the treacherous inclines, the poor brutes skated about in all directions.
We crossed a rapid stream, fifty yards wide, on a fairly strong bridge—this river runs into the Euphrates, forty miles south of Arabkir—and next had to lead our animals through a difficult and mountainous district.
The track was very narrow. It generally sloped towards a precipice. In some instances there was a clear drop of at least 400 feet within six inches of our horses. The surface upon which they had to walk was like glass. A slip would have been certain death; it was marvellous how they avoided stumbling. In about three hours' time we reached Shephe, an Armenian village. I halted here for a few minutes to bait our animals.
The proprietor of the house where we dismounted spoke highly of the Caimacan at Arabkir. However, he freely cursed the Kurds, who in the summer-time committed many depredations in the neighbourhood. In the months of June and July, no man's life was in safety. There were so few Zaptiehs in the province that the robbers could carry on their trade with impunity.
Presently we passed a stream called the Erman Su. It is spanned by a good stone bridge. On reaching the other side, I found myself in a broad, well-cultivated plain. The ruins of a large city lay heaped up by the river's banks. This was the site of Hara Bazar, an Armenian town which flourished long before either Arabkir or Egin were built. The ruins lay some little distance from the path, I did not visit them. My guide informed me that the débris consists of enormous stones. These are the wonder of the villagers, who generally build their houses of mud. They cannot conceive what manner of men were their ancestors who had taken the trouble to bring such massive slabs from the distant mountains. The village of Ashoot stands in the middle of the plain, and is composed of fifty-one houses, all belonging to Mohammedans. The inhabitants, for Turks, were extremely wealthy; some nice-looking Arab horses stood in my host's drawing-room. He was the chief person in the village, and presently informed me that twenty soldiers, who were on their way to Erzeroum, had deserted, a few days before, from a hamlet about six miles distant. He had been on their track, and would certainly have shot the culprits if he had been able to catch them. There had been no officer with these soldiers. The men had been left to find their way to Erzeroum without even being accompanied by a sergeant.
"Three days ago," continued my informant, "a battalion, 800 strong, came to this village. The officer in command demanded from the inhabitants nine mules for the transport of his sick men. The amount to be paid by him for the hire of the animals to Egin was fixed at 200 piastres (about 1l. of our money). The officer omitted to settle the account. The villagers have applied to the police authorities at Egin for the sum, and are very angry because it has not been paid."
A Usebashe (captain) now called. He had just arrived from Erzeroum, and declared that there was a report in that town to the effect that Yakoob, Khan of Kashgar, had attacked the Russians near Tashkent—had utterly defeated them, and taken 20,000 prisoners and twenty guns.
"Allah grant that it may prove true!" said my host. "Twenty thousand sons of dogs in captivity! This is something! I hope Yakoob has cut all their throats."
"God is evidently on our side!" said the village Imaum.