Oraz Djan, a young, daring and wild looking Turkoman, of about eighteen years old, who had taken part in marauding excursions ever since he was twelve, was a daily guest in our tent at Etrek, in order to listen to the Pir (spiritual chief) of the kidnapping robbers, in his discourses on religion and moral philosophy. It happened one day, that Omer Akhond, a Mollah from the neighbourhood, was present, a man celebrated for his great knowledge, and still better known as the owner of a particularly excellent horse. The animal was spoken of, and every one was loud in the praise of its high qualities, when young Oraz, catching fire on hearing this, called out half in earnest, half in joke, "Akhond, I will give thee three asses and a Persian for thy horse. It is a pity that it should rest in the stable, whilst the Persians so freely wander in their fields. But, if thou dost not consent, then mark my words, in a few days it will be stolen from thee!" The Mollah and Pir rebuked him severely, but he laughed aloud wildly, and the conversation continued as before. Scarcely four days had passed when the Mollah entered our tent one morning with tears in his eyes, and looking very sad. "My horse has been stolen from me," he exclaimed with a sigh, "thou alone, Kulkhan, canst restore it to me. Let me entreat thee, by the love of the Tshiharyar (the four first chiefs,) do thy utmost!" "This is the work of the Haramzade (Bastard) Oraz," muttered Kulkhan, "you will see, I shall tear his black soul from out of his dirty body."