The Cold, Though Intense,
Was Not Unbearable, For There Was Fortunately No Wind, And The Spirits
Rose With The Crisp, Bracing Air, Brilliant Sunshine, And Jangle Of
Caravan Bells, As One Realized That Teheran Was Now Well Within Reach,
And The Dreaded Kharzan A Thing Of The Past.
Gerome gave vent to his
feelings with a succession of roulades and operatic airs; for my
little friend had a very good opinion of his vocal powers, which I,
unfortunately, did not share.
But he was a cheery, indefatigable
creature, and of indomitable pluck, and one gladly forgave him this,
his only failing.
It was terribly hard work all that morning, and Gerome had four, I
three, falls, on one occasion wrenching my right ankle badly. Some
of the drifts through which we rode must have been at least ten or
fifteen feet deep. Some tough faggots thrown over these afforded a
footing, or we should never have got over. Towards midday Mazreh
was sighted; and we pushed on ahead, leaving the caravan to its own
devices. The going was now better, and it was soon far behind us, the
only object visible from the low hills which we now ascended, the
camels and mules looking, from this distance, like flies crawling over
a huge white sheet.
Lunch at Mazreh consisted of damp, mouldy bread, and some sweet,
sickly liquid the postmaster called tea. Procuring fresh horses
without difficulty, we set out about 3 p.m. for Kazvin. It was not
till 10 p.m. that we were riding through the great gate of that city,
which the soldier on guard consented, with some demur, to open.
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