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 was well aware of our arrival. He was a venerable rogue, with a merry twinkle in his eye; nature had designed him for a very low comedian, but, fate having ordained otherwise, he was the leading spirit of that little community of cut-throats.

The village, however, was "ours," and they, the inhabitants, were "our veriest slaves."

Immediately the women had been accommodated elsewhere, we should have "the best khan in the place." In vain did we protest that we wouldn't for the world disturb the ladies. They were bundled off instanter, and we were ushered, still on horseback, into a huge stable, one portion of which was divided off into stalls where sheep, goats, oxen, and several very faded-looking horses were indiscriminately huddled together, while the smaller division of the place was devoted to the accommodation of poor humanity.

Several bewrinkled old hags, who were understood to be proof against our blandishments, had been allowed to remain to satisfy, later on, the curiosity of their fairer sisters.

The night was cold, and the wood fire which burned brightly in a convenient corner came as a welcome invitation to make ourselves as comfortable as we could under the circumstances, which, it is needless to say, we at once proceeded to do.

Having been supplied plentifully with youart (a sort of rank curds and whey) and pelaff (a concoction of rice and the fat obtained from the pendulous tails of Asiatic sheep), we wrapped ourselves snugly up in our many wraps, lit our pipes, and calmly awaited what "Kismet" had in store for us.

Presently the rude door of the place was thrown wide open and a chilly gust of wind careered through the khan, bearing with it a volume of smoke from our primitive fireplace to be circulated in a sort of sooty cloudland above the rafters, chimneys being unknown in this happy valley.

Was it a funeral procession, or what?

The measured tread of many feet was to be heard without: first a beturbaned native entered, who, walking majestically to where I was seated, presented me with much solemnity with a flint stone, upon which, salaaming, he left the khan, to be succeeded by another and yet another, till some twelve or fourteen villagers had thus paraded before us, each bringing unconsidered trifles as presents for the white pashas. Broken bits of rusty flint-locks, bunches of leaves, old horseshoes, anything, in short, to convey an impression of kindly welcome and suggest future bucksheesh.

These presentations were hardly concluded when the clatter of horses' hoofs outside suggested the return from one of