Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 4, 2025
But by common accord we advised Popof not to abandon the train, assuring him that we would do all that was necessary at Fuen Choo. Then, armed with daggers and revolvers it was one o'clock in the morning we went along the line to the junction, walking as fast as the very dark night permitted. In less than two hours we arrived at Fuen Choo station without adventure.
And Popof did not want asking twice. The bar was open, but there did not seem to be much to choose from. The only liquor was "Koumiss," which is fermented mare's milk, and is the color of faded ink, very nourishing, although very liquid. You must be a Tartar to appreciate this koumiss. At least that is the effect it produced on me. But Popof thought it excellent, and that was the important point.
It is not Popof, for he would have brought his lantern. I try to recognize the people who have just entered. It is difficult. They have glided between the packages, and after opening the further door, they have gone out and shut it behind them. They are some of the passengers, evidently; but why here at this hour? I must know. I have a presentiment that something is in the wind
To-morrow night we shall be running through the defiles of the Pamir, and we shall not travel so quietly, I am afraid." "Thanks, Popof, I will take your advice, and sleep like a marmot." Popof wished me good night and went into his cabin. I saw no use in going back into the car, and remained on the platform. It was impossible to see anything either to the left or right of the line.
I have scarcely reached the platform before Popofs door opens, and without seeing me he hurries through the van on to the engine. Almost immediately the train resumes its normal speed and Popof reappears a minute afterwards. "What is the matter, Popof?" "What is often the matter, Monsieur Bombarnac. We have smashed a dromedary." "Poor brute!" "Poor brute? He might have thrown us off the line!"
In spite of my desire to visit the baggage car I waited patiently, for it was possible that Popof was not yet sound asleep. Within, all is quiet under the veiled light of the lamps. Without, the night is very dark, and the rattle of the train mingles with the whistling of the rather high wind. I rise. I draw aside the curtain of one of the lamps. I look at my watch.
"Guard," said Faruskiar, addressing Popof, "it is my opinion that we had much better run on to Tcharkalyk than go back; it would suit the passengers much better." "Certainly, sir, it would be preferable," said Popof; "but the line is broken between here and Tcharkalyk, and we cannot get through." "Not at present, but we could get the cars through if we could temporarily repair the line."
They have all taken up their places under the curtained lamps, and toward half-past ten the respiration of some and the snoring of others are blended with the continued grinding of the train on the steel rails. I remained outside last of all, and Popof exchanged a few words with me. "We shall not be disturbed to-night," he said to me, "and I would advise you to make the most of it.
However, as soon as the Mongols appeared, Popof hurried Madame Caterna, Miss Horatia Bluett, and the other women into the cars. We took every means for putting them in safety. My only weapon was a six-shot revolver, and I knew how to use it. Ah! I wanted incidents and accidents, and impressions of the journey!
As to the scornful gentleman, our guide knew nothing beyond that his luggage bore the address in full: Sir Francis Trevellyan, Trevellyan Hall, Trevellyanshire. "A gentleman who does not answer when he is spoken to!" added Popof. Well, my number eight will have to be dumb man, and that will do very well. "Now we get to the German," said I. "Baron Weissschnitzerdörfer?"
Word Of The Day
Others Looking