"My brother will be on horseback all the day. He will look well down the precipices," said Mohammed with a chuckle.
He had observed that the Englishman did not relish riding a few inches from a chasm, and Mohammed was rather amused to learn that his fellow-servant would now no longer have the chance of walking by the precipices. He himself, though not particularly brave in other respects, never seemed to value his neck when on horseback. No matter how steep the slopes might be, Mohammed seldom or ever took the trouble to dismount from his animal, which, under the influence of two good feeds of barley every day, had improved considerably since the march from Tokat.
"Why should I dismount?" Mohammed would say. "If I am to slip and be killed, it will happen, and I cannot prevent it."
The fellow had been accustomed to a mountainous country all his life, and had previously been employed as a Zaptieh. This may account for his coolness on horseback. But, at a later period of the journey, and when it was necessary for us to descend some rapids in a boat, Mohammed showed unmistakable signs of fear, and was not at all to be consoled by Radford's remark that, if he (Mohammed) were to be drowned, it would be his fate, and so would not signify.
We reached the crest of a lofty height. A wide stream appeared below our feet.
"What is the name of that river?" I inquired. The welcome announcement, "The Frat," made me aware that at last I had arrived on the banks of the Euphrates—here a broad stream about 120 yards wide and nine or ten feet deep. Numerous boulders half choked up the river's channel. The waves splashed high in the air as they bounded over these obstacles; the sound of the troubled waters could be distinctly heard even at our elevation.
We continued the march alongside the bank of the world-renowned river. The path was cut out of the solid rock. In some places the track was not above four feet wide. No balustrade or wall had been made to keep a horse or rider from slipping down the chasm. Presently the road wound still higher amidst the mountains. The river beneath us seemed no broader than a silver thread.
On we went. The sound of bells made us aware that there was a caravan approaching. Our guide rode first. A few moments later, about 100 mules, all laden with merchandise, could be seen coming towards our party. We should have to pass them; how to do so seemed a difficult problem to solve. The track was not wider than an average dinner-table.
The guide soon settled the matter. Taking a whip, he struck the leading mule; the latter, to avoid punishment, ran with his load up a steep slope along the side of the path. The rest of the animals followed. There seemed to be scarcely foothold for a goat, but the mules found one. They were removed from the path on which we stood, my people could advance in safety.
Numbers of vines clad the lower part of the mountain slopes. Here and there a few châlets made of white stone could be seen. These, I was informed, belong to the wealthier Turks of Egin, who come to reside here during the grape season.