Verdure and trees are everywhere.

This oasis justifies its name, and would not disgrace the Sahara.

It extends to the station of Douchak at the six hundred and sixtieth verst, which we reach at six o'clock in the morning.
We stop here two hours, that is to say, there are two hours for us to walk about.

I am off to look at Douchak with Major Noltitz as my cicerone.
A traveler precedes us out of the railway station; I recognize Sir Francis Trevellyan.

The major makes me notice that this gentleman's face is more sullen than usual, his lip more scornful, his attitude more Anglo-Saxon.
"And do you know why, Monsieur Bombarnac?
Because this station at Douchak might be the terminus of a line from British India through the Afghan frontier, Kandahar, the Bolan Pass and the Pendjeh oasis, that would unite the two systems." "And how long would the line be ?" "About six hundred miles.