Chapter 3

The noonday sun shone with scorching heat upon the highway. It was the hour of day when travelers seek shelter from the heat. But at this hour a lone traveler was hastening along the road leading from Bayazid to Alashgerd. The road twisted and turned through the mountain pass, and was a succession of ups and downs. He walked rapidly, with never a stop and never a backward glance. Some urgent duty appeared to drive him on, and every moment was precious.

The traveler was young, and dressed like the crazy fellow of the night before. He wore the same ragged cloak, and a girdle of rope. He had discarded the cap and bells and the stains bad been washed from his face. His head was protected from the heat by a mat of freshly-woven rushes, such as mowers often weave for themselves. This rustic hat shaded his melancholy face-a face of deep despair. Even in his uncouth garb his was a figure to attract attention.

Presently he heard the whinny of a horse. He paused and looked about. The sound was repeated. He perceived that it came from a ravine near by. After a moment's thought he turned his steps thither. His first step was to climb a crag from which he might peer down into the ravine. There he saw a luxuriant growth of grass in which a saddled horse was grazing. That appeared to be all, but looking more closely he discovered near a clump of bushes the glittering point of a spear. "There is some one resting there, and he is alone, for there is only one horse in sight," he thought to himself. His further conclusions were that the man must be a Kurd, judging from his spear and from the trappings of the horse; also that he must be asleep since the horse's feet were fettered to prevent him from straying. Now he descended the hillside and reached the bed of a stream which flowed through the narrow valley, its bank,, hidden by a thick growth of rushes. Then he began to creep silently toward the bushes near which he spear stood planted in the ground. A snake could not have slipped through the reeds as noiselessly as did this lithe and fearless creature.

At that moment a slight breeze bent the heads of the rushes and their murmur drowned the rustling caused by the foe if, perchance, he made i careless move. Everything promised success.

He had reached the bushes where the spear was planted. He paused within a few paces of it, and preserving his former attitude, he began to peer through the rushes. The sleeper's dress showed that he was a Kurd. The noonday sun had driven him here to rest. Was he asleep, or awake? It was hard to say for his head was turned away from the traveler. He was stretched full length upon the soft grass.

The traveler continued to observe the Kurd from his ambush. He was keenly interested to know whether the Kurd was awake or asleep. If his face were only turned toward him he would be able to know whether he was asleep or not. He was greatly disturbed and racked with anxiety. Unclothed and unarmed, he was about to attack a man accoutered with arms. But he must make an end of indecision. Time was flying. Every moment was precious. But how should he act? While he was in this dilemma he saw the Kurd raise his head and look about. He looked at his horse, and seeing that it had not strayed away, he settled his head again upon his saddle-bags in lieu of a pillow and lay still. So he was not asleep, or, if he had been asleep, he was awake now,. The traveler was still undecided. His nostrils dilated and his lips quivered. Then he noticed that the spear was planted some distance from the sleeper and in line with his own hiding place. This circumstance relieved him somewhat. His muscles became less tense and something akin to joy shone in his eyes. A weapon! That was what he needed to carry out his intention.

Suddenly, like a tiger from its ambush, he sprang from among the rushes, snatched up the spear and stood over the outstretched Kurd.

"Give me your weapons," he cried.

The Kurd, seeing the outlandish figure in a tattered military cloak and ridiculous hat, looked at him contemptuously and without rising, raised his rifle and aiming it at the crazy fellow, said: "Take it; there it is!"

The rifle went off and the bullet grazed the man's side.

"Rascal. do you resist?" replied the fellow, thrusting the spear straight into the Kurd's throat. The hot blood gushed from the wound, and the man's head fell back on the ground.

The Kurd made an effort to rise once more and he drew his sword halfway out of its scabbard, but his hold weakened and the sword came no further.

"You dog, why have you killed me?" he cried in mortal agony.

"You have killed many of our people, and have carried away many; I learned from you how to kill and how to carry away. I am going on a long journey, You see I have neither clothing, weapons nor horse. needed your clothing and weapons and your beautiful horse grazing yonder in the meadow. I knew that as long as you drew breath You would give me none of these; that is why I have relieved you of them. Perhaps I am depriving you of the spoil of Bayazid; no matter - Your brothers have been very busy there."

The Kurd heard nothing. His eyes were already closed and his lifeless body lay outstretched upon the ground.

All this had taken place in a very few moments. The traveler stripped his victim and dragging his body away, hid it among the bushes, covering it with his ragged cloak. Then arraying himself in the Kurd's clothing and girding on his weapons, he flew forward on his journey mounted on the beautiful steed.