From the summit of the pass (full three thousand feet above the plain) we descend into a fertile valley, well watered by a mountain rivulet, and feathery with lofty pampas reed; and an equal ascent on the further side brings us to the top of a second range of mountains, from which we can take our first survey of the wild land whither we are bound. Beneath us lies the Zab valley, a chaos of hummocks and hollows all flung together confusedly like the waves of a choppy sea; and the broad bright ribbon of the river, almost equal in volume to the Tigris, picks out a devious passage through a maze of interlacing bluffs. The opposite side of the chasm is defined by a bold escarpment, scarred by the tracks of winter torrents and buttressed by jagged limestone fins. And above this, along the horizon, tower the great snow peaks of the Hakkiari Oberland--the _rigidus Niphates_ of Horace; the spot where (according to Milton) Satan first planted his feet when he alighted on the new-made world. An iron-bound untamable fastness--a regular Brigands' Paradise--it is known as the Ashiret country, that is to say, "the Country of the Clans." And the inhabitants (to do them justice) are quite ready to exploit its capabilities. Though nominally Turkish subjects they are actually semi-independent; half borderers of the type of Johnny Armstrong, half highlanders of the type of Rob Roy. Here the Sultan's decrees are worth little without a visible backing of bayonets; and every individual filibuster does that which is right--or more accurately that which is expedient--in his own eyes. Such authority as exists anywhere is for the most part in the hands of the tribal chieftains: and the suzerainty of the Stamboul Government is just about as effective as the suzerainty of the old kings of Scotland on the north side of Stirling Bridge. There are three degrees of security for a traveller in Asiatic Turkey. There are districts where he is safe: there are districts where a _zaptieh_ can keep him safe: and there are districts where a _zaptieh_ can't. Our knights-errant brought us down loyally to the village of Biri Kupra, a ramshackle Kurdish hamlet which stands at the foot of the pass. They escorted us on the next morning as far as the banks of the river--but when we reached the ferry their responsibility came to an end. Across they could not follow us. It was the Sheikh of Barzan's country. And the _Hukumet_ felt some delicacy about parading their officials in his domain. No doubt he would receive them graciously--under favour and without prejudice; but there was no earthly use in pretending that _zaptiehs_ could protect us there.