ur Bombarnac!" exclaimed Kinko, in a burst of gratitude.
"How can I repay you?"

"Very easily, Kinko."

"And in what way?"

"Ask me to your marriage with the lovely Zinca."

"I will! And Zinca will embrace you."

"She will be only doing her duty, friend Kinko, and I shall be only
doing mine in returning two kisses for one."

We exchanged a last grip of the hand; and, really, I think there were
tears in the good fellow's eyes when I left him. He put out his lamp,
he pushed back the panel, then through the case I heard one more
"thanks" and an "_au revoir_."

I came out of the van, I shut the door, I assured myself that Popof was
still asleep. In a few minutes, after a breath or two of the night air,
I go into my place near Major Noltitz.

And before I close my eyes my last thought is that, thanks to the
appearance of the episodic Kinko, the journey of their energetic
"Special" will not be displeasing to my readers.

CHAPTER XIV.

In 1870 the Russians endeavored without success to establish a fair at
Tachkend which would rival that at Nijni-Novgorod. Some twenty years
later the attempt would have succeeded, and as a matter of fact the
fair now exists, owing to the making of the Transcaspian to unite
Samarkand and Tachkend.

And now not only do merchants with their merchandise crowd into this
town, but pilgrims with their pilgrimage outfits. And there will be
quite a procession, or rather an exodus, when the time comes for the
Mussulman faithful to ride to Mecca by railway.

Meanwhile we are at Tachkend, and the time-table shows that we stop
here two hours and a half.

Of course I shall not have time to visit the town, which would be worth
my while to do. But I must confess that these cities of Turkestan are
very much alike, and to have seen one is to have seen another, unless
we can go into details.

Crossing a fertile region where poplars like distaffs rise gracefully
erect, skirting fields bristling with vines, running by gardens where
fruit trees abound, our train stops at the new town.

As is inevitable since the Russian conquest, there are two towns side
by side at Tachkend as at Samarkand, as at Bokhara, as at Merv. Here
the old town has tortuous streets, houses of mud and clay, bazaars of
poor appearance, caravanserais built of bricks dried in the sun, a few
mosques, and schools as numerous as if the czar had decreed by ukase
that everything French should be imitated. It is true that the