Explanations were made, and the camels soon quieted. Thereupon we were surrounded with lanterns and firebrands, while the remainder of the caravan party was called to the front. Finally we moved on, walking side by side with the lantern-bearing leader, who ran ahead now and then to make sure of the road. The night was the blackest we had ever seen.

Suddenly one of the camels disappeared in a ditch, and rolled over with a groan. Fortunately, no bones were broken, and the load was replaced. But we were off the road, and a search was begun with lights to find the beaten path. Footsore and hungry, with an almost intolerable thirst, we trudged along till morning, to the ding-dong, ding-dong of the deep-toned camel-bells. Finally we reached a sluggish river, but did not dare to satisfy our thirst, except by washing out our mouths, and by taking occasional swallows, with long intervals of rest, in one of which we fell asleep from sheer exhaustion. When we awoke the midday sun was shining, and a party of Persian travelers was bending over us.

From the high lands of Azerbeidjan, where, strange to say, nearly all Persian pestilences arise, we dropped suddenly into the Kasveen plain, a portion of that triangular, dried-up basin of the Persian Mediterranean, now for the most part a sandy, saline desert. The argillaceous dust acc.u.mulated on the Kasveen plain by the weathering of the surrounding uplands resembles in appearance the "yellow earth" of the Hoang Ho district in China, but remains sterile for the lack of water. Even the little moisture that obtains beneath the surface is sapped by the _kanots_, or underground ca.n.a.ls, which bring to the fevered lips of the desert oases the fresh, cool springs of the Elburz. These are dug with unerring instinct, and preserved with jealous care by means of shafts or slanting wells dug at regular intervals across the plain. Into these we would occasionally descend to relieve our reflection-burned-or, as a Persian would say, "snow-burned"-faces, while the thermometer above stood at 120 in the shade.

Over the level ninety-mile stretch between Kasveen and the capital a so-called carriage-road has recently been constructed close to the base of the mountain. A sudden turn round a mountain-spur, and before us was presented to view Mount Demavend and Teheran. Soon the paved streets, sidewalks, lamp-posts, street-railways, and even steam-tramway, of the half modern capital were as much of a surprise to us as our "wind horses"

were to the curious crowds that escorted us to the French Hotel.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A PERSIAN REPAIRING THE WHEELS OF HIS WAGON.]

From Persia it was our plan to enter Russian central Asia, and thence to proceed to China or Siberia. To enter the Transcaspian territory, the border-province of the Russian possessions, the sanction of its governor, General Kuropatkine, would be quite sufficient; but for the rest of the journey through Turkestan the Russian minister in Teheran said we would have to await a general permission from St. Petersburg. Six weeks were spent with our English and American acquaintances, and still no answer was received. Winter was coming on, and something had to be done at once. If we were to be debarred from a northern route, we would have to attempt a pa.s.sage into India either through Afghanistan, which we were a.s.sured by all was quite impossible, or across the deserts of southern Persia and Baluchistan. For this latter we had already obtained a possible route from the noted traveler, Colonel Stewart, whom we met on his way back to his consular post at Tabreez. But just at this juncture the Russian minister advised another plan. In order to save time, he said, we might proceed to Meshed at once, and if our permission was not telegraphed to us at that point, we could then turn south to Baluchistan as a last resort. This, our friends unanimously declared, was a Muscovite trick to evade an absolute refusal. The Russians, they a.s.sured us, would never permit a foreign inspection of their doings on the Afghan border; and furthermore, we would never be able to cross the uninhabited deserts of Baluchistan. Against all protest, we waved "farewell" to the foreign and native throng which had a.s.sembled to see us off, and on October 5 wheeled out of the fortified square on the "Pilgrim Road to Meshed."

Before us now lay six hundred miles of barren hills, swampy _kevirs_, brier-covered wastes, and salty deserts, with here and there some kanot-fed oases. To the south lay the lifeless desert of Luth, the "Persian Sahara," the humidity of which is the lowest yet recorded on the face of the globe, and compared with which "the Gobi of China and the Kizil-k.u.m of central Asia are fertile regions." It is our extended and rather unique experience on the former of these two that prompts us to refrain from further description of desert travel here, where the hardships were in a measure ameliorated by frequent stations, and by the use of cuc.u.mbers and pomegranates, both of which we carried with us on the long desert stretches. Melons, too, the finest we have ever seen in any land, frequently obviated the necessity of drinking the strongly brackish water.

[Ill.u.s.tration: LEAVING TEHERAN FOR MESHED.]

Yet this experience was sufficient to impress us with the fact that the national poets, Hafiz and Sadi, like Thomas Moore, have sought in fancy what the land of Iran denied them. Those "spicy groves, echoing with the nightingale's song," those "rosy bowers and purling brooks," on the whole exist, so far as our experience goes, only in the poet's dream.

Leaving on the right the sand-swept ruins of Veramin, that capital of Persia before Teheran was even thought of, we traversed the pa.s.s of Sir-Dara, identified by some as the famous "Caspian Gate," and early in the evening entered the village of Aradan. The usual crowd hemmed us in on all sides, yelling, "Min, min!" ("Ride, ride!"), which took the place of the Turkish refrain of "Bin, bin!" As we rode toward the caravansary they shouted, "Faster, faster!" and when we began to distance them, they caught at the rear wheels, and sent a shower of stones after us, denting our helmets, and bruising our coatless backs. This was too much; we dismounted and exhibited the ability to defend ourselves, whereupon they tumbled over one another in their haste to get away. But they were at our wheels again before we reached the caravansary. Here they surged through the narrow gangway, and knocked over the fruit-stands of the bazaars.

We were shown to a room, or windowless cell, in the honeycomb structure that surrounded an open quadrangular court, at the time filled with a caravan of pilgrims, carrying triangular white and black flags, with the Persian coat of arms, the same we have seen over many doorways in Persia as warnings of the danger of trespa.s.sing upon the religious services held within. The cadaverous stench revealed the presence of half-dried human bones being carried by relatives and friends for interment in the sacred "City of the Silent." Thus dead bodies, in loosely nailed boxes, are always traveling from one end of Persia to the other. Among the pilgrims were blue and green turbaned Saids, direct descendants of the Prophet, as well as white-turbaned mollas. All were sitting about on the _sakoo_, or raised platform, just finishing the evening meal. But presently one of the mollas ascended the mound in the middle of the stable-yard, and in the manner of the muezzin called to prayer. All kneeled, and bowed their heads toward Mecca. Then the horses were saddled, the long, narrow boxes attached upright to the pack-mules, and the _kajacas_, or double boxes, adjusted on the backs of the horses of the ladies. Into these the veiled creatures entered, and drew the curtains, while the men leaped into the saddle at a signal, and, with the tri-cornered flag at their head, the cavalcade moved out on its long night pilgrimage. We now learned that the village contained a _chappar khan_, one of those places of rest which have recently been provided for the use of foreigners and others, who travel _chappar_, or by relays of post-horses. These structures are usually distinguished by a single room built on the roof, and projecting some distance over the eaves.

[Ill.u.s.tration: IN A PERSIAN GRAVEYARD.]

To this we repaired at once. Its keeper evinced unusual pride in the cleanliness of his apartments, for we were asked to take off our shoes before entering. But while our boastful host was kicking up the mats to convince us of the truth of his a.s.sertions, he suddenly retired behind the scenes to rid himself of some of the pests.

[Ill.u.s.tration: PILGRIMS IN THE CARAVANSARY.]

Throughout our Asiatic tour eggs were our chief means of subsistence, but _pillao_, or boiled rice flavored with grease, we found more particularly used in Persia, like _yaourt_ in Turkey. This was prepared with chicken whenever it was possible to purchase a fowl, and then we would usually make the discovery that a Persian fowl was either wingless, legless, or otherwise defective after being prepared by a Persian _fuzul_, or foreigner's servant, who, it is said, "shrinks from no baseness in order to eat." Though minus these particular appendages, it would invariably have a head; for the fanatical Shiah frequently s.n.a.t.c.hed a chicken out of our hands to prevent us from wringing or chopping its head off. Even after our meal was served, we would keep a sharp lookout upon the unblushing pilferers around us, who had called to pay their respects, and to fill the room with clouds of smoke from their chibouks and gurgling kalians. For a fanatical Shiah will sometimes stick his dirty fingers into the dishes of an "unbeliever," even though he may subsequently throw away the contaminated vessel. And this extreme fanaticism is to be found in a country noted for its extensive lat.i.tude in the profession of religious beliefs.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A PERSIAN WINE-PRESS.]

A present from the village khan was announced. In stepped two men bearing a huge tray filled with melons, apricots, sugar, rock-candy, nuts, pistachios, etc., all of which we must, of course, turn over to the khan-keeper and his servants, and pay double their value to the bearers, as a present. This polite method of extortion was followed the next morning by one of a bolder and more peremptory nature. Notwithstanding the feast of the night before at our expense, and in addition to furnishing us with bedclothes which we really ought to have been paid to sleep in, our oily host now insisted upon three or four prices for his lodgings. We refused to pay him more than a certain sum, and started to vacate the premises. Thereupon he and his grown son caught hold of our bicycles.

Remonstrances proving of no avail, and being unable to force our pa.s.sage through the narrow doorway with the bicycles in our hands, we dropped them, and grappled with our antagonists. A noisy scuffle, and then a heavy fall ensued, but luckily we were both on the upper side. This unusual disturbance now brought out the inmates of the adjoining _anderoon_. In a moment there was a din of feminine screams, and a flutter of garments, and then-a crashing of our pith helmets beneath the blows of pokers and andirons. The villagers, thus aroused, came at last to our rescue, and at once proceeded to patch up a compromise. This, in view of the Amazonian reinforcements, who were standing by in readiness for a second onset, we were more than pleased to accept. From this inglorious combat we came off without serious injury; but with those gentle poker taps were knocked out forever all the sweet delusions of the "Light of the Harem."

The great antiquity of this Teheran-Meshed road, which is undoubtedly a section of that former commercial highway between two of the most ancient capitals in history-Nineveh and Balk, is very graphically shown by the caravan ruts at Lasgird. These have been worn in many places to a depth of four feet in the solid rock. It was not far beyond this point that we began to feel the force of that famous "Damghan wind," so called from the city of that name. Of course this wind was against us. In fact, throughout our Asiatic tour easterly winds prevailed; and should we ever attempt another transcontinental spin we would have a care to travel in the opposite direction.

[Ill.u.s.tration: CASTLE STRONGHOLD AT LASGIRD.]

Our peculiar mode of travel subjected us to great extremes in our mode of living. Sometimes, indeed, it was a change almost from the sublime to the ridiculous, and vice versa-from a stable or sheepfold, with a diet of figs and bread, and an irrigating-ditch for a lavatory, to a palace itself, an Oriental palace, with all the delicacies of the East, and a host of servants to attend to our slightest wish. So it was at Bostam, the residence of one of Persia's most influential _hakims_, or governors, literally, "pillars of state," who was also a cousin to the Shah himself.

This potentate we visited in company with an English engineer whom we met in transit at Sharoud. It was on the evening before, when at supper with this gentleman in his tent, that a special messenger arrived from the governor, requesting us, as the invitation ran, "to take our brightness into his presence." As we entered, the governor rose from his seat on the floor, a courtesy never shown us by a Turkish official. Even the politest of them would, just at this particular moment, be conveniently engrossed in the examination of some book or paper. His courtesy was further extended by locking up our "horses," and making us his "prisoners" until the following morning. At the dinner which Mr. Evans and we were invited to eat with his excellency, benches had to be especially prepared, as there was nothing like a chair to be found on the premises. The governor himself took his accustomed position on the floor, with his own private dishes around him. From these he would occasionally fish out with his fingers some choice lamb _kebabh_ or cabbage _dolmah_, and have it pa.s.sed over to his guests-an act which is considered one of the highest forms of Persian hospitality.

With a shifting of the scenes of travel, we stood at sunset on the summit of the Binalud mountains, overlooking the valley of the Kashafrud. Our two weeks' journey was almost ended, for the city of Meshed was now in view, ten miles away. Around us were piles of little stones, to which each pious pilgrim adds his quota when first he sees the "Holy Shrine," which we beheld shining like a ball of fire in the glow of the setting sun.

[Ill.u.s.tration: PILGRIM STONE HEAPS OVERLOOKING MESHED.]

While we were building our pyramid a party of returning pilgrims greeted us with "Meshedi at last." "Not yet," we answered, for we knew that the gates of the Holy City closed promptly at twilight. Yet we determined to make the attempt. On we sped, but not with the speed of the falling night.

Dusk overtook us as we reached the plain. A moving form was revealed to us on the bank of the irrigating-ca.n.a.l which skirted the edge of the road.

Backward it fell as we dashed by, and then the sound of a splash and splutter reached us as we disappeared in the darkness. On the morrow we learned that the spirits of Ha.s.san and Hussein were seen skimming the earth in their flight toward the Holy City. We reached the bridge, and crossed the moat, but the gates were closed. We knocked and pounded, but a hollow echo was our only response. At last the light of a lantern illumined the crevices in the weather-beaten doors, and a weird-looking face appeared through the midway opening. "Who's there?" said a voice, whose sepulchral tones might have belonged to the s.e.xton of the Holy Tomb.

"We are _Ferenghis_," we said, "and must get into the city to-night."

"That is impossible," he answered, "for the gates are locked, and the keys have been sent away to the governor's palace." With this the night air grew more chill. But another thought struck us at once. We would send a note to General McLean, the English consul-general, who was already expecting us. This our interlocutor, for a certain _inam_, or Persian bakshish, at length agreed to deliver. The general, as we afterward learned, sent a servant with a special request to the governor's palace.

Here, without delay, a squad of hors.e.m.e.n was detailed, and ordered with the keys to the "Herat Gate." The crowds in the streets, attracted by this unusual turnout at this unusual hour, followed in their wake to the scene of disturbance. There was a click of locks, the clanking of chains, and the creaking of rusty hinges. The great doors swung open, and a crowd of expectant faces received us in the Holy City.

[Ill.u.s.tration: RIDING BEFORE THE GOVERNOR AT MESHED.]

Meshed claims our attention chiefly for its famous dead. In its sacred dust lie buried our old hero Haroun al Raschid, Firdousi, Persia's greatest epic poet, and the holy Imaum Riza, within whose shrine every criminal may take refuge from even the Shah himself until the payment of a blood-tax, or a debtor until the giving of a guarantee for debt. No infidel can enter there.

[Ill.u.s.tration: FEMALE PILGRIMS ON THE ROAD TO MESHED.]

Meshed was the pivotal point upon which our wheel of fortune was to turn.

We were filled with no little anxiety, therefore, when, on the day after our arrival, we received an invitation to call at the Russian consulate-general. With great ceremony we were ushered into a suite of elegantly furnished rooms, and received by the consul-general and his English wife in full dress. Madame de Vla.s.sow was radiant with smiles as she served us tea by the side of her steaming silver samovar. She could not wait for the circ.u.mlocution of diplomacy, but said: "It is all right, gentlemen. General Kuropatkine has just telegraphed permission for you to proceed to Askabad." This precipitate remark evidently disconcerted the consul, who could only nod his head and say, "_Oui, oui_," in affirmation.

This news lifted a heavy load from our minds; our desert journey of six hundred miles, therefore, had not been made in vain, and the prospect brightened for a trip through the heart of Asia.

[Ill.u.s.tration: IN THE GARDEN OF THE RUSSIAN CONSULATE AT MESHED.]

Between the rival hospitality of the Russian and English consulates our health was now in jeopardy from excess of kindness. Among other social attentions, we received an invitation from Sahib Devan, the governor of Khora.s.san, who next to the Shah is the richest man in Persia. Although seventy-six years of age, on the day of our visit to his palace he was literally covered with diamonds and precious stones. With the photographer to the Shah as German interpreter, we spent half an hour in an interesting conversation. Among other topics he mentioned the receipt, a few days before, of a peculiar telegram from the Shah: "Cut off the head of any one who attempts opposition to the Tobacco Regie"; and this was followed a few days after by the inquiry, "How many heads have you taken?" A retinue of about three hundred courtiers followed the governor as he walked out with feeble steps to the parade-ground. Here a company of Persian cavalry was detailed to clear the field for the "wonderful steel horses," which, as was said, had come from the capital in two days, a distance of six hundred miles. The governors extreme pleasure was afterward expressed in a special letter for our journey to the frontier.

[Ill.u.s.tration: WATCH-TOWER ON THE TRANSCASPIAN RAILWAY.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: GIVING A "SILENT PILGRIM" A ROLL TOWARD MESHED.]

The military road now completed between Askabad and Meshed reveals the extreme weakness of Persia's defense against Russian aggression. Elated by her recent successes in the matter of a Russian consul at Meshed, Russia has very forcibly invited Persia to construct more than half of a road which, in connection with the Transcaspian railway, makes Khora.s.san almost an exclusive Russian market, and opens Persia's richest province to Russia's troops and cannon on the prospective march to Herat. At this very writing, if the telegraph speaks the truth, the Persian border-province of Dereguez is another cession by what the Russians are pleased to call their Persian va.s.sal. In addition to its increasing commercial traffic, this road is patronized by many Shiah devotees from the north, among whom are what the natives term the "silent pilgrims." These are large stones, or boulders, rolled along a few feet at a time by the pa.s.sers-by toward the Holy City. We ourselves were employed in this pious work at the close of our first day's journey from Meshed when we were suddenly aroused by a bantering voice behind us. Looking up, we were hailed by Stagno Navarro, the inspector of the Persian telegraph, who was employed with his men on a neighboring line. With this gentleman we spent the following night in a telegraph station, and pa.s.sed a pleasant evening chatting over the wires with friends in Meshed.

Kuchan, our next stopping-place, lies on the almost imperceptible watershed which separates the Herat valley from the Caspian Sea. This city, only a few months ago, was entirely destroyed by a severe earthquake. Under date of January 28, 1894, the American press reported: "The bodies of ten thousand victims of the awful disaster have already been recovered. Fifty thousand cattle were destroyed at the same time. The once important and beautiful city of twenty thousand people is now only a scene of death, desolation, and terror."

From this point to Askabad the construction of the military highway speaks well for Russia's engineering skill. It crosses the Kopet Dagh mountains over seven distinct pa.s.ses in a distance of eighty miles. This we determined to cover, if possible, in one day, inasmuch as there was no intermediate stopping-place, and as we were not a little delighted by the idea of at last emerging from semi-barbarism into semi-civilization. At sunset we were scaling the fifth ridge since leaving Kuchan at daybreak, and a few minutes later rolled up before the Persian custom-house in the valley below. There was no evidence of the proximity of a Russian frontier, except the extraordinary size of the tea-gla.s.ses, from which we slaked our intolerable thirst. During the day we had had a surfeit of cavernous gorges and commanding pinnacles, but very little water. The only copious spring we were able to find was filled at the time with the unwashed linen of a Persian traveler, who sat by, smiling in derision, as we upbraided him for his disregard of the traveling public.

[Ill.u.s.tration: AN INTERVIEW WITH GENERAL KUROPATKINE AT THE RACES NEAR ASKABAD.]

It was already dusk when we came in sight of the Russian custom-house, a tin-roofed, stone structure, contrasting strongly with the Persian mud hovels we had left behind. A Russian official hailed us as we shot by, but we could not stop on the down-grade, and, besides, darkness was too rapidly approaching to brook any delay. Askabad was twenty-eight miles away, and although wearied by an extremely hard day's work, we must sleep that night, if possible, in a Russian hotel. Our pace increased with the growing darkness until at length we were going at the rate of twelve miles per hour down a narrow gorge-like valley toward the seventh and last ridge that lay between us and the desert. At 9:30 P. M. we stood upon its summit, and before us stretched the sandy wastes of Kara-k.u.m, enshrouded in gloom. Thousands of feet below us the city of Askabad was ablaze with lights, shining like beacons on the sh.o.r.e of the desert sea. Strains of music from a Russian band stole faintly up through the darkness as we dismounted, and contemplated the strange scene, until the shriek of a locomotive-whistle startled us from our reveries. Across the desert a train of the Transcaspian railway was gliding smoothly along toward the city.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MOSQUE CONTAINING THE TOMB OF TAMERLANE AT SAMARKAND.]

A hearty welcome back to civilized life was given us the next evening by General Kuropatkine himself, the Governor-General of Transcaspia. During the course of a dinner with him and his friends, he kindly a.s.sured us that no further recommendation was needed than the fact that we were American citizens to ent.i.tle us to travel from one end of the Russian empire to the other.

From Askabad to Samarkand there was a break in the continuity of our bicycle journey. Our Russian friends persuaded us to take advantage of the Transcaspian railway, and not to hazard a journey across the dreaded Kara-k.u.m sands. Such a journey, made upon the railroad track, where water and food were obtainable at regular intervals, would have entailed only a small part of the hardships incurred on the deserts in China, yet we were more than anxious to reach, before the advent of winter, a point whence we could be a.s.sured of reaching the Pacific during the following season.

Through the kindness of the railway authorities at Bokhara station our car was side-tracked to enable us to visit, ten miles away, that ancient city of the East. On November 6 we reached Samarkand, the ancient capital of Tamerlane, and the present terminus of the Transcaspian railway.

[Ill.u.s.tration: CARAVANSARY AT FAKIDAOUD.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: A MARKET-PLACE IN SAMARKAND, AND THE RUINS OF A COLLEGE.]

IV

THE JOURNEY FROM SAMARKAND TO KULDJA