I did not stay long at Dudusa, but, after lunching at the priest's house, continued the march towards Kotnu, another village about twenty-seven miles, or about nine hours from the capital of the province. It was dusk long ere we reached our halting-place. In passing over a narrow wooden bridge, one of my horses put his foot down a hole between the planks, and nearly broke his leg. Misfortunes never come singly. A moment later, the poor brute strayed a few yards from the track. He was at once bogged in the treacherous soil. Everything had to be unstrapped from the saddle, a rope was attached to his surcingle, and then, by means of the other horses, he was dragged from the slimy trammels. It was hard work loading him again. The thermometer had fallen to considerably below zero. The wind howled and blew the snowy flakes in our faces. The horses would not stand still. Our matches were wet through. We could not light them. Under such circumstances we had to arrange the baggage. The Zaptiehs who had been sent to act as guides would not help; they sat still, cursing their destiny which had made them accompany a mad giaour like myself, who had chosen to travel from Scutari to Kars all the way by land, instead of going the greater part of the distance by sea, like a sensible true believer. I have but little doubt that the same train of thought was passing through Mohammed's and Radford's mind. However, the latter never flinched, and Mohammed had evidently won his friendship, for, on my asking my English servant how he liked his new companion, he replied, "Sir, he is worth three of Osman at any time, save praying-times, and then there is not a pin to choose between them. They must be awful sinners, these Mohammedans, if they require five prayers a day to settle the account with their consciences. Mohammed ain't that artful as Osman was. He don't choose the moment when there is work to be done, to set to work at his victuals, or to flop down on his knees to say his prayers. Mohammed has his pray all to himself afterwards, and then it don't so much signify!" "What! Has not Mohammed so good an appetite as Osman?" "No, sir, Mohammed has more of a Christian's appetite; he is satisfied with what I put before him, he don't go prigging out of the tin like that there other Turk. Why, I watched Osman one day eating a chicken which I had kept back for your supper! A few days before, I had missed one out of the pot, and had taxed him with it; he then said, '_keupek_,' dog, as if a dog would go and lift up the lid of the tin! I used to call Osman 'keupek' afterwards, and he did not seem to like it. The other Turks, when they want to give it a fellow, tell him that he is the grandson of a dog; but I called Osman the original animal—dirty hound that he was too—quite spoiled my coat, that he did!"