and inclosing
between them several long narrow depressions, hardly deep enough to be
called valleys. The Kurds led the way, and at first we made pretty good
progress. The Cossacks seemed fair walkers, though less stalwart than
the Kurds; the pace generally was better than that with which Swiss
guides start. However, we were soon cruelly undeceived. In twenty-five
minutes there came a steep bit, and at the top of it they flung
themselves down on the grass to rest. So did we all. Less than half a
mile farther, down they dropped again, and this time we were obliged to
give the signal for resuming the march. In another quarter of an hour
they were down once more, and so it continued for the rest of the way.
Every ten minutes' walking--it was seldom steep enough to be called
actual climbing--was followed by seven or eight minutes of sitting
still, smoking and chattering. How they did chatter! It was to no
purpose that we continued to move on when they sat down, or that we rose
to go before they had sufficiently rested. They looked at one another,
so far as I could make out by the faint light, and occasionally they
laughed; but they would not and did not stir till such time as pleased
themselves. We were helpless. Impossible to go on alone; impossible also
to explain to them why every moment was precious, for the acquaintance
who had acted as interpreter had been obliged to stay behind at
Sardarbulakh, and we were absolutely without means of communication with
our companions. One could not even be angry, had there been any use in
that, for they were perfectly good-humored. It was all very well to
beckon them, or pull them by the elbow, or clap them on the back; they
thought this was only our fun, and sat still and chattered all the same.
When it grew light enough to see the hands of a watch, and mark how the
hours advanced while the party did not, we began for a second time to
despair of success.

About 3 A.M. there suddenly sprang up from behind the Median mountains
the morning star, shedding a light such as no star ever gave in these
northern climes of ours,--a light that almost outshone the moon. An hour
later it began to pale in the first faint flush of yellowish light that
spread over the eastern heaven; and first the rocky masses above us,
then Little Ararat, throwing behind him a gigantic shadow, then the long
lines of mountains beyond the Araxes, became revealed, while the wide
Araxes plain still lay dim and shadowy