"Will not some of the cotton be stolen?" I inquired of Nazar.

"If God pleases," was the pious answer.

The Mohammedans invariably throw upon the Deity the responsibility for any mischance that may occur through their own negligence. The doctrine of fatalism thus covers a multitude of sins.

I subsequently discovered that the only way to impart a little circumspection to my careless camel-driver when, after smashing my boxes, he excused himself on the ground that the Almighty had been the cause of his disaster, was to administer to the delinquent a slight chastisement. This having been inflicted, I exclaimed, " Brother, it was the will of God. You must not complain; it was your destiny to break my property and mine to beat you. We neither of us could help it, praise be to Allah."

This method of dealing with my party had a capital effect upon them, and much more care was afterwards taken in loading and unloading the camels.

Kasala now lay far in our wake, and naught could be seen save an endless white expanse. A gale came on. The wind howled and whistled, billowing before it broad waves of snow. Our eyes began to run, and the eyeballs to ache; the constant glare and cutting breeze half blinded us as we rode. The horses waded heavily through the piled-up ridges. The poor beasts suffered like ourselves; their eyes were encrusted with frozen tears; and it was as much as we could do to urge them forward.

I had taken the precaution to bring some tinted spectacles from England in order to protect my eyes from this evil, which gives rise to many cases of ophthalmia amidst the nomad tribes, the dust and sun

SPECTACLES WITH SIDE SPRINGS USELESS. 201

in the summer months being nearly as trying as the cutting winds and dazzling snow throughout the winter. However, my shades proved to be useless. The sidesprings were made of steel, and directly they touched my cheeks I felt as if they had been seared with a redhot poker. There was nothing to be done but to pull my cap well over my eyes, and look as best I could through the dark fur. This somewhat shaded the glaring mirror at our feet, and relieved the aching pupils.

CHAPTER XXII.

Camels-Their Rate of March-How to divide the Marches-The KibitkaBetter be Cold than Blind-A Tartar Cook-The Turkoman's AppetiteA Khivan Caravan-The Main Road goes to Khiva, the Branch Road to the Fort-Drinking Tea with the Khivans-Sheltering the Camels.

AFTER marching for about five hours, the guide asked me to halt the caravan. The sun was fast disappearing in the west. We had started late, and as it is always as well to make a short journey on the first day, in order to see how the saddles fit, and if the luggage has been well adjusted on the camels, I consented, but with the express stipulation that we must strike our camp and start again at twelve that night.

Camels will only feed in the daytime, and the best plan is to march them as much as possible during the night. They walk very slowly, and as a rule cannot go more than two miles and a third an hour. This is the average rate of a caravan; however, they walk a little faster at night than during the day. It is always as well to halt at sunset and start at midnight, unloading the camels for about two hours in the day to feed. By this means the traveller ought to get sixteen hours per day steady work from his caravan, and march at least thirty-seven miles.

All this time the Turkoman driver and guide were engaged in putting up the kibitka; this was intended to screen us from the bitterly cold wind which, coming

DESCRIPTION OF A KIBITKA.

203

straight from the east, whistled across the desert, unchecked by mountain or forest.

The kibitkas* are very simple in their construction. I will endeavour briefly to describe them. Imagine a bundle of sticks, each five feet three inches in length, and an inch in diameter; these are connected with each other by means of some cross sticks, through the ends of which holes are bored and leather thongs passed. This allows plenty of room for all the sticks to open out freely, they then form a complete circle about twelve feet in diameter and five feet three in height. They do not require any forcing into the ground, for the circular shape keeps them steady. When this is done a thick piece of cashmar, or cloth made of sheep's wool, is suspended from their tops, and reaches to the ground. This forms a shield through which

the wind cannot pass. Another bundle of sticks is then produced. They are all fastened at one end to a small wooden cross about six inches long by four broad; a man standing in the centre of the circle raises up this bundle in the air, the cross upwards, and hitches their other ends by means of little leather loops one by one on the different upright sticks which form the circular walls. The result is they all pull against each other, and are consequently self-supporting; another piece of cloth is passed round the outside of this scaffolding, leaving a piece uncovered at the top to allow the smoke to escape. One stick is removed from the uprights which form the walls. This substitutes a door, and the kibitka is complete.

* Lieutenant Stumm, a German officer who accompanied the Russian expedition to Khiva, highly approved of these kibitkas for military purposes. He brought one back with him to show to the military authorities in Berlin.

A fire is now lit in the middle of the tent, some snow put in a kettle, which is suspended from a tripod of three sticks above the flames, and under the influence of a few glasses of scalding tea the wayfarer makes himself as comfortable as circumstances will admit.

However, the smoke from the damp wood filled the tent. It was of so pungent a character that we found it impossible to keep on the roof. Our eyes, which had suffered from the wind and glare, now smarted from the smoke. It was impossible to keep them open.

'The wood is damp," said the guide; "better be cold than be blind," and unhooking the upper framework of the kibitka he left only the walls standing.

It was a glorious evening, the stars as seen from the snow-covered desert were brighter and more dazzling than any I had hitherto witnessed. From time to time some glittering meteor would shoot across the heavens. A momentary track of vivid flame traced out its course through space. Showers of orbs of falling fire flashed for one moment and then disappeared from our view. Myriads of constellations and worlds above sparkled like gems in a priceless diadem. It was a magnificent pyrotechnic display, Nature being the sole actor in the spectacle. It was well worth a journey even to Central Asia.

In the meantime the guide, who took upon himself the office of chef de cuisine, was occupied with an iron pot, his special property. He was busily engaged throwing into this receptacle slices of meat which with difficulty he had hacked from a piece of frozen mutton. A few handfuls of rice were next added, and some hunches of mutton fat. This he extracted from a