or mountain-slope characterizes our meeting-place, and it requires no small stock of forbearance and tact to get away from them without bringing on a serious quarrel.  They take hold of the machine whenever I attempt to leave them, and give me to understand that nothing but a compliance with their wishes will secure my release; I have known them even try the effect of a little warlike demonstration, having vague ideas of gaining their object by intimidation; and this sort of thing is kept up until their own stock of patience is exhausted, or until some more reasonable member of the company becomes at last convinced that it really must be “mimkin deyil, " after all; whereupon they let me go, ending the whole annoying, and yet really amusing, performance by giving me the most minute particulars of the route ahead, and parting in the best of humor.  To lose one’s temper on these occasions, or to attempt to forcibly break away, is quickly discovered to be the height of folly; they themselves are brimful of good humor, and from beginning to end their countenances are wreathed in smiles; although they fairly detain me prisoner the while, they would never think of attempting any real injury to either myself or the bicycle.  Some of the more enterprising even express their determination of trying to ride the machine themselves; but I always make a firm stand against any such liberties as this; and, rough, half-civilized fellows though they often are, armed, and fully understanding the advantage of numbers, they invariably yield this point when they find me seriously determined not to allow it.  Descending into a narrow valley, I reach a road-side khan, adjoining a thrifty-looking melon-garden — this latter a welcome sight, since the day is warm and sultry; and a few minutes’ quiet, soulful communion with a good ripe water-melon, I think to myself, will be just about the proper caper to indulge in after being worried with dogs, people, small streams, and unridable hills since six o’clock.  “Carpoose ?” I inquire, addressing the proprietor of the khan, who issues forth from the stable.

" Peefci, effendi,” he answers, and goes off to the garden for the melon.  Smiling sweetly at vacancy, in joyous anticipation of the coming feast and the soothing influence I feel sure of its exerting upon my feelings, somewhat ruffled by the many annoyances of the morning, I seek a quiet, shady corner, thoughtfully loosening my revolver-belt a couple of notches ere sitting down.  In a minute the khan-jee returns, and hands me a “cucumber” about the size of a man’s forearm.

“That isn’t a carpoose; I want a carpoose-a su carpoose.”  I explain.