I must confess that this was neither the first nor the last time that the grim look and ÁrminiusVambésuspicious doings of the Turkomans, who afterwards turned out to be my best friends, filled my mind with all kind of horror. I never felt quite safe as to my future, and the only consolation left to me was my lameness, which made me quite valueless in the eyes of the slave-dealers. Of course, as the time went on, I began to be accustomed to this perpetual anxiety, and in spite of the constant danger in which I found myself, I regained my good humour, and my wit and jokes not only exhilarated my hadji fellows, but even the surliest son of the desert, and the usual remark of the Turkomans was, "That lame hadji of Roum (Turkey) is a jolly fellow; he would make a capital merry-maker."
The road we traversed showed no traces of the feet of either men or camels, and taking for our guides the sun during the day, and the polar star during the night, we kept our course straight to the north. The Turkomans call the polar star on account of its immobility Temir Kazik (iron peg). The camels forming a long line and tied together were led by men on foot. In this way we jogged along in the sandy soil without any interruption until late after sunset. The sandy soil gradually ceased and we felt indeed the solid and smooth ground under our feet. The tramp of the camels sounded at a distance as if they beat time. The day was nearly dawning when we stopped, but we had altogether gone but twenty-four miles; the camels not being allowed to exert themselves in the beginning, and our progress having been delayed, besides, by the slowness of the buffaloes, the most distinguished members of our travelling party, who with their huge bodies were unable to keep pace with the camels. Our rest lasted from dawn till eight o'clock in the morning, and whilst the camels were feeding on thistles and brambles of the desert, we had time to look after our breakfast. We might well call our breakfast an excellent one, for we had a sufficient quantity of water wherewith to wash down our unleavened bread. As we were camping near each other I observed that the kervanbashi, whilst talking with Ilias and the chiefs of the hadji, had been looking at me pointedly several times. I could easily guess the tenor of their conversation, but pretending not to be in the least concerned, I kept on turning the leaves of the Koran with great devotion for a while; and then, closing the book, I rose and directed my steps towards the little company as if to join them. As I was approaching, both the good Ilias and Hadji Salih hastened to meet me half-way, and calling me aside informed me that the kervanbashi suspected me and was determined not to take me with him to Khiva. He was especially afraid of the wrath of the Khan, for he had brought with him, some years ago, a Frengi envoy to Khiva, who had made an exact drawing of the entire road, not omitting, owing to his infernal skill, a single well or hill. The Khan burning with rage at this, had immediately executed two of the men who had given the traveller information, and spared the life of the kervanbashi only because of some very influential protection the latter had succeeded in enlisting in his favour. "After a good deal of coaxing," my men continued, "we succeeded in prevailing upon him to take thee with him, on condition that thou shalt allow thyself to be searched, in the first place, in order to see if thou dost not carry any drawings or wood pens (lead pencils) with thee such as the Frengis usually have about them; and in the second place, that thou shalt promise not to make any secret memoranda of the roads and mountains; if thou dost not agree to this he will leave thee behind him in the middle of the desert." I listened to their speech with the utmost patience, but as soon as they were done I assumed the appearance of one angrily excited, and turning to Hadji Salih I said in a voice, loud enough to reach the ears of the kervanbashi: "Hadji, thou sawest me in Teheran and knowest who I am. Tell Amandurdi that it ill becometh an honest man like him to listen to the words of a drunken _binamaz_ (a man who does not say his prayers) like this Afghan. It is not permitted to trifle with religion, and if he calls me once more Frengi infidel I shall show him in Khiva what manner of man I am." I spoke the last words in such a loud key as to be heard by every one in the caravan, and my dervish companions became so enraged that, if I had not kept them back, they would have fallen on the spot upon the sottish opium-eating Afghan who had been trying to excite the kervanbashi's suspicions against me.