n the bicycle. Evidently his
object in coming round so frequently is to exhibit for the gratification
of his own vanity and the curiosity of the Persians, this European mode
of greeting, and the profound depth of his own knowledge of the subject.

Later in the evening the women of the village come round in a body to see
the Ferenghi and his iron horse, and the wearer of the spectacles, the
red cap, and blue slippers, takes upon himself the office of showman for
the occasion; pointing out, with a good deal of superficial enthusiasm,
the peculiar points of both steed and rider.

Particularly is it impressed upon these woefully ignorant fail-ones, that
the bicycle is not a horse, but a machine--a thing of iron and not
of flesh and blood.

The fair ones nod their heads approvingly, but it is painfully apparent
that they don't comprehend in the least, how, since it is an asp-i-awhan,
it can be anything else but a horse, regardless of the material entering
into its composition.

When supper-time arrives the chapar-Jee announces his willingness to turn
cook and prepare anything I order. Knowing well enough that this
seemingly sweeping proposition embraces but two or three articles, I
order him to prepare scrambled eggs, bread, and sheerah. An hour later he
brings in the scrambled eggs, swimming in hot molasses and grease! He has
stirred the grease and molasses together, and in this outlandish mixture
cooked the eggs.

Off the main road the country assumes the character of low hills of red
clay, across which it would be extremely difficult to take the bicycle in
wet weather, but which is now fortunately dry. After three or four
farsakhs it develops into a curious region of heterogeneous parts; rocky,
precipitous mountains, barren, salt-streaked hills, saline streams, and
pretty little green valleys. Here, one feels the absence of any plain,
well-travelled road, the dim and ill-defined trail being at times very
difficult to distinguish from the branch trails leading to some isolated
village. The few people one meets already betray a simplicity and a lack
of "gumption" that distinguish them at once from the people frequenting
the main road.

CHAPTER VI.

THE UNBEATEN TRACKS OF KHORASSAN.

During the afternoon I traverse a rocky canon, crossing and recrossing a
clear, cold stream that winds its serpentine course from one precipitous
wall to another. Mountain trout are observed disporting in this stream,
and big, gr