ay lizards scuttle nimbly about among the loose rocks on the
bank. The canon gradually dwindles into a less confined passage between
sloping hills of loose rock and bowlders, a wild, desolate region through
which the road leads gradually upward to a pass.

Part way up this gorge is a rude stone tower about twenty feet high, on
the summit of which is perched a little mud hut, looking almost as though
it might be a sentry-box. While yet a couple of hundred yards away, a
rough-looking customer emerges from the tower and appears to be awaiting
my approach. His head is well-nigh hidden beneath a huge Khorassani
busby, and he wears the clothes of an irregular soldier. The long, shaggy
wool of the sheepskin head-dress dangling over his eyes imparts a very
ferocious appearance, and he is armed with the ordinary Persian sword and
one of those antiquated flint-lock muskets that are only to be seen on
the deserts of the East or in museums of ancient weapons.

Taken all in all, he presents a very ferocious front; he is, in fact,
about the most ruffianly-looking specimen I have seen outside of Asiatic
Turkey. As I ride up he motions for me to alight, at the same time
retreating a few steps toward his humble stronghold, betraying a spirit
of apprehension lest, perchance, he might be unwittingly standing in the
way of danger. Greeting him with the customary "Salaam aleykum" and being
similarly greeted in reply, I dismount to ascertain who and what he is.
He retreats another step or two in the direction of his strange abode,
and eyes the bicycle with evident distrust, edging off to one side as I
turn toward him, as though fearful lest it might come whizzing into his
sacred person at a moment's notice like a hungry buzz-saw. In response to
my inquiries, he points up toward the pass and offers to accompany me
thither for the small sum of "yek keran;" giving me to understand that
without his presence it is highly indiscreet to proceed.

Little penetration is required to understand that this is one of the
little black-mailing schemes peculiar to semi-civilization, and which, it
is perhaps hardly necessary to explain, comes a trifle too late in the
chapter of my Asiatic experiences to influence my movements or to
replenish the exchequer of the picturesque and enterprising person
desirous of shielding me from imaginary harm.

This wily individual is making his living by the novel and ingenious
process of trading on the fears and credulity