To our right a glorious panorama of palm, forest, and river stretched away for miles, bounded on the horizon by a chain of lofty precipitous mountains, their snowy peaks white and dazzling against the deep cloudless blue, their grassy slopes and rocky ravines hidden, here and there, by grey mists floating lazily over depths of dark green forest at their feet.

To our left broad yellow sands, streaked with seaweed and dark driftwood, and cold grey waters of the Caspian Sea--colourless and dead even under this Mediterranean sky, and bringing one back, so to speak, from a beautiful dream to stern reality.
About midday we came to a broad but fordable river, which the Khivan called the Chulamak.

We all crossed in safety, notwithstanding the deep holes our guide warned us against, and which, as the water was thick and muddy, gave Gerome and myself some anxiety.

The stream was about fifty yards across and much swollen by the snow.

Landing on the other side ahead of my companions, I rode on alone, and presently found myself floundering about girth-deep in a quicksand.