ply. The jealous one was silent after that.
But there were other noises. Some men still lingered in the guest-room
playing cards. The host, devoted to things European, had a
musical-box--it was happily before the day of gramophones--which the
card-players kept going all night long. I had a touch of fever. There
were insects. Sleep was hopeless. I rose while it was yet night, went
out without paying, since the host was nowhere to be seen, and, in
some danger from the fierce attacks of pariah dogs, found out the
vault in which my horse was stabled. Ten minutes later I was clear of
the village, riding along a mountain side but dimly visible beneath
the stars. The path descended to a deep ravine, and rose again, up,
up, interminably. At length, upon the summit of a ridge, I felt the
dawn. The mountain tops were whitened like the crests of waves, while
all the clefts and hollows remained full of night. Behind me, in the
east, there was a long white streak making the mountain outlines bleak
and keen. The stars looked strange; a fresh breeze fanned my cheek and
rustled in the grass and shrubs. Before me, on an isolated bluff,
appeared my destination, a large village, square-built like a
fortress. Its buildings presently took on a wild-rose blush, which
deepened to the red of fire--a splendid sight against a dark blue sky,
still full of stars. A window flashed up there. The sun had risen.

Some English people, when informed of my intention to buy a man out of
the Turkish Army had pronounced it madness. I did not know the people
of the land as they did. I should be pillaged, brought to destitution,
perhaps murdered. They, who had lived in the country twenty, thirty
years, were better qualified to judge than I was. For peace and quiet
I pretended acquiescence, and my purpose thus acquired a taste of
stealth. It was with the feelings of a kind of truant that I had set
out at length without a word to anyone, and with the same adventurous
feelings that I now drew near to Karameyn. Two soldiers, basking in
the sunshine on a dust-heap, sprang up at my approach. One was the man
I sought, the rogue Rashid. They led me to their captain's house--a
modest dwelling, consisting of a single room, with hardly any
furniture. A score of soldiers followed after us.

The Captain--Hasan Agha--an old man, with face scarred and heavy white
moustache, was in full uniform, and, as I entered, was engaged in
putting on a pair of cotton gloves. He was on