ing our horses, we waved him a last, sad farewell, as he watched us disappearing over some grassy hills, himself returning to the lonely camp left standing at Karatagan. A ride of six miles brought us down to the vast, sea-like plain of Transcaspia, on the horizon of which we could distinguish the signal tower of the Dushak railway station. Towards this we rode, steadily reducing the intervening distance, though at times to the impatient riders, and perhaps to the tired horses, it seemed as if Dushak would 'never come.' Two miles from the station we passed under the Sarraks telegraph line, and shortly before seven we dismounted at the most southern station of the Transcaspian Railway, and learnt that we should have no train till the next evening, there being only two post trains a-week until the summer service should begin, when there would be three. We accordingly decided to encamp for the night in the immediate neighbourhood of the station, and as soon as the mules arrived, which, owing to the long march, was not till after sunset, we pitched our tents on a small, sandy plot of ground, our opera-
