This ride was so successful from Enver’s point of view that we took another a few days afterward, and this time Talaat and Dr. Gates, the President of Robert College, accompanied us. Enver and I rode ahead, while our companions brought up the rear. These Turkish officials are exceedingly jealous of their prerogatives, and, since the Minister of War is the ranking member of the Cabinet, Enver insisted on keeping a decorous interval between ourselves and the other pair of horsemen! I was somewhat amused by this, for I knew that Talaat was the more powerful politician; yet he accepted the discrimination, and only once did he permit his horse to pass Enver and myself. At this violation of the proprieties, Enver showed his displeasure, whereat Talaat paused, reined up his horse, and passed submissively to the rear. “I was merely showing Dr. Gates the gait of my horse,” he said, with an apologetic air. But I was interested in more important matters than such fine distinction in official etiquette; I was determined to talk about the Armenians. But again I failed to make any progress. Enver found more interesting discussions. He began to talk of his horses, and now another incident illustrated the mercurial quality of the Turkish mind--the readiness with which a Turk passes from acts of monstrous criminality to acts of individual kindness. Enver said that the horse-races would take place soon and regretted that he had no jockey. “I’ll give you an English jockey,” I said. “Will you make a bargain? He is a prisoner of war; if he wins will you give him his freedom?” “I’ll do it,” said Enver. This man, whose name was Fields, actually entered the races as Enver’s jockey, and came in third. He rode for his freedom, as Mr. Philip said! Since he did not come in first, the Minister was not obliged, by the terms of his agreement, to let him return to England, but Enver stretched a point and gave him his liberty. On this same ride Enver gave me an exhibition of his skill as a marksman. At one point in the road I suddenly heard a pistol-shot ring out in the air. It was Enver’s aide practising on a near-by object. Suddenly Enver reined up his horse, whipped out his revolver, and, thrusting his arm out rigidly and horizontally, he took aim. “Do you see that twig on that tree?” he asked me. It was about thirty feet away. When I nodded, Enver fired--and the twig dropped to the ground. The rapidity with which Enver could whip his weapon out of his pocket, aim, and shoot gave me one convincing explanation for the influence which he exercised with the piratical crew that was then ruling Turkey. There were plenty of stories floating around that Enver did not hesitate to use this method of suasion at certain critical moments of his career; how true they were I do not know, but I can certainly testify concerning the high character of his marksmanship.