We passed more caravans of that all too soon benzine.  Cliffs began to tower up on every side, and precipices to fall away beneath our feet to a greenish roaring torrent; great springs spouted from the rocks and dashed down upon the stones below in shredded foam:  one was pink in colour.  Here once a general and his lady were riding, and the lady’s horse slipped.  The general grasped her but lost his own balance, and both fell into the river and were killed.  The track wound up and down, often very slippery underfoot, and the horses, shod with the usual flat plates of iron, were slithering and sliding on the edge of the precipices.  At last we got off and walked.  It was an immense relief:  our saddles were intensely hard, stirrups unequal lengths, and with knots which rubbed unmercifully on the shins.  We passed a man who was evidently an Englishman, and he stared at us as we passed, but neither stopped.  The gorge grew deeper, the stream more rapid.  The cliffs towered higher, black and grey in huge perpendicular stripes.  We heard sounds of thunder or of blasting which reverberated in the canyon; it was oppressive and gloomy, and one shuddered to think what it would be like if an earthquake occurred.  The cliffs ceased abruptly in a huge grass slope on which crowds of people were working on the new road; we crossed the river over a wooden bridge.

We came down into Ipek suddenly, past the old orange towered monastery, which lies, its outer walls half buried, keeping the landslides at bay.  Ramases, who had suddenly put on another air, flung his leg over the saddle—­he had previously been sitting sideways—­and twisted his moustache skywards.  Jo wished to canter on, but he sternly forbade her, flipping her horse on the nose and driving it back when she tried to pass; for it would have damned his manly dignity for ever had a woman preceded him.

Our first view of Ipek was of a forest of minarets shooting up from the orchards, not a house was to be seen.  Ramases tried to make us lodge in a vague looking building.  We asked him if that were the best hotel.  He answered nonchalantly, “Nesnam” (don’t know); so we hunted for ourselves, discovering in the main square a blue house labelled “Hotel Skodar” in large letters.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XI

IPEK, DECHANI AND A HAREM

We entered the courtyard of the inn.  Tiny as it was all Ipek seemed to be plucking poultry in it.  An urbane old woman came forward, evidently the owner.  She had short arms, and her hair grey at the roots was stained with henna, which matched her eyes.  A dog fancier once told us never to buy a dog with light-coloured eyes if we wanted a trustful loving nature, so we wondered if it applied to humans.

She showed us a tiny dungeon-like room entirely filled up by two beds.  We were not impressed; but she assured us that we should have a large beautiful room the next day for the same price.  So we engaged it and strolled out into the evening.