Chapter 27 | Catching a Tartar | Yussuf the Guide

If there had been any intention on the part of their host to deal deceitfully with them, he would have had plenty of opportunity, during about a couple of hours of the night, when it was the professor’s turn to keep watch, for he fell fast asleep, and was awakened by Yussuf, who shook his head at him sadly.

Morning came bright and cheery, with the birds singing, and the view from their window exquisite. Close at hand there were the mountains, rising one above another, and rich with the glorious tints of the trees and bushes that clung to their sides, and after gazing at the glorious prospect, with the clear air and dazzling sunshine, Mr Burne exclaimed:

“Bless me! What an eligible estate to lay out in building plots! Magnificent health resort! Beats Baden, Spa, Homburg, and all these places, hollow.”

“And where would you get your builders and your tenants?”

“Humph! Hah! I never thought of that. But really, Preston, what a disgraceful thing it is that such a lovely country should go to ruin! Hah! here’s breakfast.”

For at that moment their host came in, and in a short time good bread, butter, yaourt or curd, coffee, and honey in the comb were placed before them, and somehow, after a good night’s rest, the travellers did not find the owner of the house so very evil-looking.

“Oh, no, effendi, he is not a bad fellow. He bears no malice,” said Yussuf, “these men are used to it. They get so terribly robbed by everyone who comes through the village that they refuse help on principle till they are obliged to give it, when they become civil.”

“He is pleasant enough this morning,” said Mr Burne. “The man seems well off, too.”

“Yes, effendi, he is rich for a man of his station. And now I have news for the effendi Preston.”

“News? Not letters surely?” said the professor.

“No, effendi; but there are ruins close by across the valley. An old city and burying-place is yonder, this man tells me. Nobody ever goes there, because the people say that it is inhabited by djins and evil spirits, so that no one dares to go and fetch away the stones.”

The professor rubbed his hands gleefully, and Mr Burne dropped the corners of his lips as he helped himself to some more yaourt.

“How are you getting on with this stuff, Lawrence?” he said.

“I like it,” was the reply.

“So do I,” said Mr Burne grimly. “It puts me in mind of being a good little boy, and going for a walk in Saint James’s Park with the nurse to feed the ducks, after which we used to feed ourselves at one of the lodges where they sold curds and whey. This is more like it than anything I have had since. I say, gently, young man, don’t eat everything on the table.”

“But I feel so hungry up here in the mountains,” cried Lawrence laughing.

“Very likely, sir,” said Mr Burne with mock austerity; “but that is no reason why you should try and create a famine in the land.”

“Let him eat; Burne,” said the professor; “he wants bone and muscle.”

“But he is eating wax,” cried Mr Burne sharply. “Let him eat chicken bone and muscle if he likes, and the flesh as well, but that would be no reason why he should eat the feathers.”

“I am only too glad to see him with a good appetite,” said the professor pushing the butter towards Lawrence with a smile.

“So am I. Of course. But I draw the line at wax. Confound it all, boy! be content with the honey.”

“I would,” said Lawrence with his mouth full; “but it is all so mixed up.”

“Humph!” ejaculated Mr Burne. “Are you going to have a look at those old stones, Preston?”

“Most decidedly.”

“In spite of the djins and evil spirits?”

“Yes,” replied the professor. “I suppose they will not alarm you, Yussuf?”

The guide smiled and shook his head.

“I am most alarmed about those other evil spirits, effendi,” he said smiling; “such as haunt these mountains, and who steal horses, and rob men. I think the effendi will find some curious old ruins, for this seems to have been a famous place once upon a time. There is an old theatre just at the back.”

“Theatre? Nonsense!” said the old lawyer with a snort.

“I meant amphitheatre, effendi—either Greek or Roman,” said Yussuf politely.

“Here, I say, Yussuf,” said Mr Burne, lowering the piece of bread which he had raised half-way to his mouth; “are you an Englishman in disguise pretending to be a Turk?”

Yussuf smiled, and then turned and arrested Mr Preston, who was about to leave his breakfast half finished and get ready to go and see the amphitheatre.

“Pray, finish first, excellency,” he said. “You will not miss it now, but in a few hours’ time you will be growing faint, and suffer for want of being well prepared.”

“You are right,” said the professor.

The breakfast was ended, and then, while the horses were being loaded, the travellers followed their host down the steep slope which formed his garden, and then by a stiff bit of pathway to where a splendid spring of water gushed right out of the rock; and the presence of this source explained a great deal, and made plain why ruins were to be found close at hand.

In fact, they came upon dressed stones directly, and it was evident that there had been a kind of temple once close to the spring, for a rough platform remained which had been cut down level to the edge of the water. The face of the rock had been levelled too, and upon it there were remains of a rough kind of inscription, while, upon examining the dressed stones which lay here and there, several, in spite of their decay, still retained the shape which showed that they had formed portions of columns.

But, search how the professor would, he could find nothing to show what the date of the edifice had been.

Five minutes’ climbing amongst broken stones brought them to a clump of trees and bushes, mingled with which were a few white-looking fragments which looked so natural that the professor’s heart sank with disappointment. The stones appeared to be live stones, as geologists call it; in other words, portions of rock which had never been disturbed.

But their host pushed on through the brambles and roses, which looked as natural as if they were in an English wilderness, only that the trees that rose beyond them were strange.

“It’s all labour in vain, Yussuf,” said Mr Preston in rather a disappointed tone. “You have not seen this theatre.”

“No, excellency; but the man described it so exactly, that I felt he must be right; and—yes, he is.”

As he spoke, he drew aside some bushes, and they found themselves gazing across heap upon heap of loose fragments of very pure white stone that was not unlike marble, and the cause of whose overthrow had most likely been the strong growth of the abundant trees, for the roots had interlaced and undermined them till they were completely forced out of place. Beyond this chaos, that lay nearly buried in greenery, rose up one above the other what seemed to Lawrence at the first glance to be the ruins of a huge flight of steps built in a semicircular form, but which he recognised at once, from pictures which he had seen, as an amphitheatre.

There was no mistaking it. The steps, as he had thought them to be, were the seats of stone rising tier above tier, now broken, mouldering, and dislodged in many places, but in others curiously perfect.

Where they, the travellers, stood must have been occupied by the actors, far back in the past perhaps a couple of thousand years ago; and these remains were all that was left to tell of the greatness of the people who once ruled in the land—great indeed, since they left such relics as these.

Mr Burne said “Humph!” sat down, and lit a cigar, while their host rested upon a stone at a short distance, to admire the scarlet and yellow turban. Yussuf followed the professor, whose eyes flashed with pleasure, while the old lawyer muttered derisively:

“Come all the way, to see a place like this! Why, I could have taken him to the end of Holborn in a cab, and shown him the ruins of Temple Bar all neatly numbered and piled-up, without all these pains.”

The professor did not hear his remark, for he was too intent upon his examination of the carefully built place, which he was ready to pronounce of Greek workmanship; but there was no one but Yussuf to hear. For Lawrence had noted that, where the stones lay baking in the sun, innumerable lizards were glancing about, their grey and sometimes green armoured skins glistening in the brilliant sunshine, and sending off flashes every time they moved. Some were of a brownish hue clouded with pale yellow; and as they darted in and out of the crevices and holes among the stonework, they raised their heads on the look-out for danger, or to catch some heedless fly before darting again beneath the levelled stones or amongst the grass and clinging plants which were covering them here and there.

Poisonous or not poisonous? that was the question Lawrence asked himself as he crept closer and watched the actions of the nimble bright-eyed creatures, longing to capture one or two, but hesitating.

A reference to Yussuf solved the doubt.

“Oh, no; perfectly harmless as to poison,” he said; “but some of the larger ones can nip pretty sharply.”

“And draw blood?”

“The largest would,” he said; “but you need have no fear,” he added dryly; “catch all you can. I should be careful, though, for sometimes there are snakes lurking amongst the stones, and some of them are venomous. But you know the difference between a snake and a lizard?”

“Oh, yes,” cried Lawrence laughing, “that’s easy enough to tell.”

“Not always, effendi, when they are half hidden in the grass.”

Lawrence nodded, and went away to try and stalk one of the lizards. The professor was busy making measurements and taking notes, while Mr Burne smoked on peaceably, and the Turk, who had led them here, crouched down and stared at the scarlet and yellow turban as if it fascinated him, while overhead the sun poured down its scorching beams and there was a stillness in the air that was broken by the low buzz and hum of flies, and the deep murmur of the spring below.

Lawrence crept softly along to one white stone upon which three lizards were basking; and after a moment’s hesitation thrust out his hand, making sure that he had seized one by the neck, but there were three streaks upon the white stone like so many darting shadows, and there was nothing.

“Wasn’t quick enough,” he said to himself, and he went softly to another stone upon which there was only one, a handsome reptile, which looked as if it had been painted by nature to imitate polished tortoise-shell.

The sun flashed from its back and seemed to be hot enough to cook the little creature, which did not stir, but lay as if fast asleep.

“I shall have you easy enough,” said Lawrence, as he gradually stepped up to the place and stooped and poised himself ready for the spring.

He was not hasty this time, and the reptile was perfectly unsuspicious of danger. There was no doubt about the matter—it must be asleep. He had so arranged that the sun did not cast the shadow of his arm across the stone, and drawing in his breath, he once more made a dart at the lizard, meaning if he did not catch it to sweep it away from its hole, and so make the capture more easy.

Snatch!

A brown streak that faded out as breath does from a blade of steel; and Lawrence hurt his hand upon the lichened stone.

“I’m not going to be beaten,” he said to himself. “I can catch them, and I will.”

He glanced at his companions, who were occupied in the amphitheatre; and, having scared away the lizards from the stones there, the lad went outside to find that there were plenty of remains about, and nearly all of them showed a lizard or two basking on the top.

He kept on trying time after time, till he grew hot and impatient, and of course, as his most careful efforts were useless, it was only natural to expect that his more careless trials would be in vain.

He was about to give the task up in despair, when all at once he caught sight of a good-sized reptile lying with its head and neck protruded from beneath a stone, and in such a position as tempted him to have one more trial.

This time it seemed to be so easy, and the reptile appeared to be one of the kind he was most eager to capture—the silvery grey, for, as they lay upon the stones, they looked as if made of oxidised metal, frosted and damascened in the most beautiful manner.

Lawrence glanced at the ground so as to be sure of his footing among the loose stones and growth, and he congratulated himself upon his foresight. For as he peered about he saw a good-sized virulent-looking serpent lying right in his way, and as if ready to strike at anybody who should pass.

Lawrence looked round for a stone wherewith to crush the creature, but he felt that if he did this he should alarm the lizard and lose it, so he drew back and picked up a few scraps, and kept on throwing first one and then another at the serpent, gently, till he roused it, and in a sluggish way it raised its head and hissed.

Then he threw another, and it again hissed menacingly, and moved itself, but all in a sluggish manner as if it were half asleep.

Another stone fell so near, though, that it made an angry dart with its head, and then glided out of sight.

Lawrence took care not to go near where it had disappeared, but approached the lizard on the stone from a little to the left, which gave him a better opportunity for seizing it.

It had not moved, and he drew nearer and nearer, to get within reach, noting the while that its body was not in a crack from which the creature had partly crept, but concealed by some light fine grass that he knew would yield to his touch.

As he was about to dart his hand down and catch it by the neck and shoulders, he saw that it was a finer one than he had imagined, with flattish head, and very large scales, lying loosely over one another—quite a natural history prize, he felt.

They were moments of critical anxiety, as he softly extended his hand, balancing himself firmly, and holding his breath, while he hesitated for a moment as to whether he should trust to the grass giving way as he snatched at the body, or seize the reptile by the head and neck, and so make sure.

He had met with so many disappointments that he determined upon the latter, and making a quick dart down with his hand, he seized the little creature by the neck and head, grasping it tightly, and snatching it up, to find to his horror that he had been deceived by the similarity of the reptile’s head, and instead of catching a lizard he had seized a little serpent about eighteen inches long, whose head he felt moving within his hand, while the body, which was flat and thick for the length, wound tightly round his wrist, and compressed it with more force than could have been expected from so small a creature.

He had uttered a shout of triumph as he caught his prize, but his voice died out upon his lips, his blood seemed to rush to his heart, and a horrible sensation of fear oppressed him, and made the cold dank perspiration ooze out upon his brow.

For he knew as well as if he had been told that he had caught up one of the dangerous serpents of the land.