The Kirghiz are very numerous in central Asia; they inhabit the immense prairies situated between Siberia, China, Turkestan, and the Caspian sea; but it is difficult to compute their number. Ask them a question on this subject, and they will reply emphatically, "Count first the sands of the desert, then you will be able to number the Kirghiz." Their wandering habits have secured them against all authority, and Europeans are in an error when they believe them to be subject to the government of Russia or that of the Celestial Empire. None of these nations have ever exercised the least power over the Kirghiz; they send, it is true, officers charged to left taxes among them, but the nomads regard these functionaries as the chiefs of a vast foray, and they only admire how, instead of despoiling them of everything, they content themselves with levying upon them only a slight tax. Revolutions have often changed the face of the world, the inhabitants of the desert have remained the same for thousands of years; singular types of savage virtue and vice, they offer today a faithful image of the ancient Turani.
The pilgrims were anticipating with delight the end of their journey; only six or eight stages remained, when one morning at break of day, two men almost naked approached the caravan, crying in suppliant tones: "A morsel of bread, for the love of God!" Every one hastened to assist them, and when food had somewhat restored their strength, they informed the dervishes that, surprised by a band of Cossacks, ataman Tekke, they had lost baggage, clothes, provisions, and were only too happy not to have lost their lives. The brigands, one hundred and fifty in number, were planning a raid upon the troops of Kirghiz camped upon the banks of the Oxus: "Fly, then, or hide yourselves," added the men, "or else you will meet them in a few hours, and in spite of your sacred character, these bandits without faith or law will abandon you in the Khalata, after robbing you of all you possess." The kervanbashi, who had already been pillaged twice, no sooner heard the words Tekke and ataman than he gave the order to beat a retreat. Consequently after having rested the animals a short time and filled their bottles, the hadjis, casting a look of inexpressible regret upon the tranquil banks of the Oxus, made their way toward those frightful solitudes which had already swallowed up so many caravans. They advanced in perfect silence, not to arouse their enemies; the step of the camels upon the dusty soil returned no sound, and very soon the shades of night enveloped them.
Toward midnight all the pilgrims were obliged to dismount and walk, because the animals buried themselves to the knees in the sand. It was a severe trial for Vambéry; his infirmity doubled the fatigue of a tramp over a moving ground, in the midst of a continuous chain of little hills, therefore he hailed with joy the point designated for the morning station. The place, however, bore a name little calculated to inspire confidence. Adamkyrylgan (the place where men perish) justified in appearance its sinister appellation. As far as the eye could reach, extended only a sea of sand, which, on one side raising itself in hills like furious waves, still bore the visible imprint of the tempest, and on the other resembled a tranquil lake hardly ruffled by a light breeze. Not a bird traversed the air, not an animal, not an insect gave an appearance of life to this desolate spot. Far and near were seen only the blanched bones of men and camels, frightful witnesses of the disasters caused by the Tebbad or fever-wind, which from time to time poured upon the desert its burning breath.
The travellers were not pursued; the Tekkes themselves, bold cavaliers, hesitated to penetrate the Khalata. According to the calculation of the kervanbashi, six days' journey at most separated the caravan from Bokhara; the bottles being well filled, the pilgrims hoped they should not suffer from thirst; they had not counted upon the burning sun of the dog-days, which evaporated the precious liquid. In vain, to escape from this cursed region, they endeavored to double the hours of march; many camel died of fatigue, and the water diminished all the more rapidly. At last two hadjis, exhausted by privations, became so ill that it was necessary to bind them upon their donkeys with cords, for they were unable to hold themselves up. "Water! Water!" they murmured in dying accents. Alas, their best friends refused to sacrifice for them the least swallow of this liquid, each drop of which represented an hour of life; so, on the fourth day, when the pilgrims reached Medemin Bulag, one of these unhappy men was released by death from the cruel tortures of thirst. His palate had assumed a grayish tint, his tongue had become black, the lips like parchment and the open mouth displaying the naked teeth. Horrible to relate, the father hides from the son, brother from brother, the provision of water which would relieve his torture! Under any other proof, these men would, perhaps, have shown themselves generous and devoted, but thirst drives from the heart every sentiment of compassion.
Vambéry soon experienced himself its terrible effects. He managed with the parsimony of a miser the contents of his bottle, until he perceived with fright a black point formed upon the middle of his tongue. Then, blinking to save his life, he swallowed at once half the water which he had left. The fire which devoured him became more violent toward the morning of the fifth day, the pains in the head increased, and he felt his strength failing him. Meanwhile, they approached the mountains of Khalata, the sand became less deep, all eyes eagerly sought the tracks of a flock, or the hut of a shepherd; in this instant the kervanbashi called the attention of the pilgrims to a cloud of dust which rose at the horizon, warning them to lose not a moment in dismounting from their camels.
"The poor animals," relates Vambéry, "felt the approach of the Tebbad. Uttering a doleful cry, they threw themselves upon their knees, extended their long necks upon the ground, and endeavored to hide their heads in the sand. We sheltered ourselves near them as behind a wall; hardly were we upon the ground when the tempest broke over us with a sullen roar, leaving us the moment after, covered with a thick coat of dust. When this rain of sand enveloped me, it seemed to me burning like fire. If we had been attacked by this tempest two days before in the midst of the desert, we must all have perished.
"The air had become of an overwhelming weight; I could not have remounted my camel without the aid of my companions; I suffered intolerable pains, of which no words can give the least idea. In face of other perils, courage had now left me, but in this moment I felt broken down, my head ached so that I could not think, and a heavy sleep overcame me. On awaking, I found myself lying in a hut of clay, surrounded by long-bearded men whom I recognized as Iranians."
They were, in fact, Persian slaves sent into the desert to watch the flocks of their master; these brave fellows made Vambéry swallow a warm drink, and, soon after, a beverage composed of sour milk, water, and salt, which soon restored his strength. Before quitting the Sunnite pilgrims, in whom they must have recognized the bitterest enemies of their race, the poor prisoners shared with them their slender provision of water, an act of meritorious charity which without doubt was regarded with complacency by the God of mercy who is the Father of all.