"Queer place, sir," said Radford, looking round. "However, it is better than the hole downstairs. Shall I sleep here, sir, or in the stable?" "On the floor," I replied. "Go and look after the horses, and then bring up some rugs." At daybreak Osman started for Scutari in search of the lost horse. A few hours later I took my gun, and went to see if I could find any snipe in a marsh near the town. About six p.m. Osman returned. It was easy to see from his crestfallen face that he had heard no news of the lost Obadiah. "_At Gitdi!_ The horse has gone, Effendi," he said. "I have been to every farm-house near here, and no one has seen a black gelding with his tail cut short. Praise be to Allah that I cut all the horses' tails before starting; our animal will be different from the others in the neighbourhood, and will be easily distinguished." "I went to the Pacha at Scutari," he added, "he has given orders to the police to search for the horse. When he is found, he will be sent after the Effendi by train to Ismid." _Gitdi_ (it has gone), I began to hate that word. Later on, if our tea had been stolen, Osman invariably greeted me with _gitdi_. It is the first word which a traveller in Turkey hears, he is kept in mind of it during his entire journey. There was nothing to be done but to hire another baggage-horse, and give orders for a start at daybreak. A few minutes before leaving Moltape, I went to the corporal, and put in his hand a dollar (medjidi), in return for the accommodation he had given me. There were several soldiers present. He declined the present with a grandiose air, adding that his home was mine, and that all strangers were welcome to the abode. However, a few minutes later, when I was alone, he approached, and putting out his hand, said, "Effendi, no one is looking, I will accept a present." Human nature in all countries is much the same. The corporal's demeanour before the soldiers much resembled that of a railway porter when offered a tip in the presence of a railway director. We rode through a beautiful country. Our track lay across a plain. It was surrounded by undulating hills. Pretty villas with Venetian windows decked their crests. Vines, fig, and other fruit trees studded the rising slopes. A few hours later the path became very bad. We made our way across deep, half hidden ruts, which compelled us to advance with the greatest care for fear of breaking the horses' legs. We ascend a steep incline, and then, far away in the distance, and across the bay of Ismid, are cone-shaped hills covered with fleecy snow.