Fine weather had followed the April showers, and as was his custom, Boghos Effendi was making preparations for a visit to his farm at the foot of Mount Ararat, [9] on the Persian frontier. This time, Archag was to go with his father, and the little boy was beside himself with joy. He was to be absent several months, galloping about all day on his pretty Mustang; and the Highland Farm with its great herds of horses and flocks of sheep seemed to his imagination an earthly Paradise indeed. Every morning when he woke up his first question was: "O, papa, are we going to-morrow?" He talked of nothing but this famous journey, and dreamed of it at night. At last the longed-for day arrived. It was still dark when Hanna badgi went to wake Archag. She gave him a little shake: "Get up quickly, my son; your father is saddling the horses already." In the twinkling of an eye the child was on his feet; he ran to the courtyard to wash himself in cold water, then came back to eat his breakfast. A bowl of goats' milk, still warm, two pieces of flat bread, and some cucumbers which Nizam had gathered the evening before, were waiting for him in the kitchen. He ate heartily. His mother's face was sad, as she sat watching him, and from time to time she stealthily wiped away a tear. Her boy was leaving her for the first time, and her heart sank as she thought of the dangers of the journey. The Persian frontier was infested by bands of Kurds, living by rapine and plunder, and as there was no mail service between Van and the villages of Ararat, she would be without news of her dear ones, and under a constant strain of anxiety. The moment for departure had arrived. Two zaptiehs (police-officers) were to accompany Boghos Effendi; indeed the only safe way to travel in Asia Minor is with an escort of police; travelers are thus under the protection of the Government, and the brigands will not venture to attack them. "Haidé, Archag, make haste," called his father, "we can't wait for you any longer." The women and little Levon came out to bid the travelers a last good-by. Archag cried as he embraced them, and his mother put around his neck a medal, blessed by the Catholicos of Echmiadzin, [10] as a protection against all danger. "May our holy Virgin guard you, my dearest boy," said she. "Don't forget to ask her that every night." Mustang, Archag's handsome Tartar stallion, was getting impatient, so his master leaped lightly on his back. The horses, exhilarated by the fresh morning air, broke into a gallop; Boghos Effendi and his son waved their handkerchiefs; one more last look, then the house disappeared behind a clump of trees.