"He can carry his pack," I remarked to Mohammed.
"If I cut the saddle he can," replied my servant; "but it will cost twenty piastres to mend it again."
"Yes," I observed, "and it will cost five liras to exchange the horse, besides which we should have a worse animal than at present."
"The Effendi knows best," said the Zaptieh, with a grin.
"He knows," said Mohammed.
"Shall I have a little backsheesh?" remarked the gendarme, rather alarmed lest his endeavour to deceive me might have done away with his chance of a present.
"Inshallah!" I replied; and, this matter being arranged, we continued our march across the mountains.
Presently we had to descend almost to the bed of the Euphrates. Here there were traces of copper ore. A little farther on we came to a place where what seemed to be iron ore was lying strewn along the mountain side; I was informed by the guide that a few miles to the east there is a substance in the earth which the villagers use as fuel. According to my informant it is hard and black, and gives a bright flame; so in all probability coal is also to be met with in these regions.
As we approached Kemach, the Euphrates became narrower; in many places it was not more than thirty yards wide. The stream was very rapid. Any man, no matter how good a swimmer he might be, would have a poor chance for his life if he were to fall into the torrent. Here and there large rocks and loose stones, which have been washed down from the mountain sides, block up the channel; they check the waters for a second. The river bubbles and roars; it lashes furiously against the boulders, and, leaping over them, rushes headlong with a fall of at least four thousand feet to the ocean.
The Caimacan of Kemach and a few of his friends were engaged in playing at Djerrid near the outskirts of the town. It was a lovely scene. The sun was setting on the snow-capped mountains; the river ran at my feet; bright-coloured vegetation and many-tinted rocks looked down upon us from either hand; cascades and waterfalls dashed over the rugged crags; whilst the Caimacan and his party, who were immensely excited with their game, shouted "Allah! Allah!" as they rode at each other and hurled the wooden missile.