," said Francois, pointing behind us "Where are you going?"
"There!" and the provoking Greek simply pointed forwards. "You have
neither faith nor religion!" said the man, indignantly; then, turning upon
his heel, he strode back across the plain.

About four o'clock, we saw a long line of objects rising before us, but so
distorted by the mirage that it was impossible to know what they were.
After a while, however, we decided that they were houses interspersed with
trees; but the trees proved to be stacks of hay and lentils, heaped on the
flat roofs. This was Ismil, our halting-place. The houses were miserable
mud huts; but the village was large, and, unlike most of those we have
seen this side of Taurus, inhabited. The people are Turcomans, and their
possessions appear to be almost entirely in their herds. Immense numbers
of sheep and goats were pasturing on the plain. There were several wells
in the place, provided with buckets attached to long swing-poles; the
water was very cold, but brackish. Our tent was pitched on the plain, on a
hard, gravelly strip of soil. A crowd of wild-haired Turcoman boys
gathered in front, to stare at us, and the shepherds quarrelled at the
wells, as to which should take his turn at watering his flocks. In the
evening a handsome old Turk visited us, and, finding that we were bound to
Constantinople, requested Francois to take a letter to his son, who was
settled there.

Francois aroused us this morning before the dawn, as we had a journey of
thirty-five miles before us. He was in a bad humor; for a man, whom he had
requested to keep watch over his tent, while he went into the village, had
stolen a fork and spoon. The old Turk, who had returned as soon as we
were stirring, went out to hunt the thief, but did not succeed in finding
him. The inhabitants of the village were up long before sunrise, and
driving away in their wooden-wheeled carts to the meadows where they cut
grass. The old Turk accompanied us some distance, in order to show us a
nearer way, avoiding a marshy spot. Our road lay over a vast plain,
seemingly boundless, for the lofty mountain-ranges that surrounded it on
all sides were so distant and cloud-like, and so lifted from the horizon
by the deceptive mirage, that the eye did not recognize their connection
with it. The wind blew strongly from the north-west, and was so cold that
I dismounted and walked ahead for two or three hours.

Before noon, we passed two villages of mud