“What’s this?” I said, in a gruff, angry voice, to the yamstchik.  “Where have you taken us to?”

“To where I was ordered, master!”

For the purpose of getting a more satisfactory explanation I took to shaking my sleepy companion, but before he had returned to consciousness the moon shone out brightly from behind a thick bank of clouds, and cleared up the mystery.  The supposed haystacks turned out to be tents.  The two figures with long sticks, whom I had suspected of being brigands, were peaceable shepherds, dressed in the ordinary Oriental khalat, and tending their sheep, which were grazing close by.  Instead of being in an empty hay-field, as I had imagined, we had before us a regular Tartar aoul, such as I had often read about.  For a moment I felt astonished and bewildered.  It seemed to me that I had fallen asleep in Europe and woke up in Asia!

In a few minutes we were comfortably installed in one of the tents, a circular, cupola-shaped erection, of about twelve feet in diameter, composed of a frame-work of light wooden rods covered with thick felt.  It contained no furniture, except a goodly quantity of carpets and pillows, which had been formed into a bed for our accommodation.  Our amiable host, who was evidently somewhat astonished at our unexpected visit, but refrained from asking questions, soon bade us good-night and retired.  We were not, however, left alone.  A large number of black beetles remained and gave us a welcome in their own peculiar fashion.  Whether they were provided with wings, or made up for the want of flying appliances by crawling up the sides of the tent and dropping down on any object they wished to reach, I did not discover, but certain it is that they somehow reached our heads—­even when we were standing upright—­and clung to our hair with wonderful tenacity.  Why they should show such a marked preference for human hair we could not conjecture, till it occurred to us that the natives habitually shaved their heads, and that these beetles must naturally consider a hair-covered cranium a curious novelty deserving of careful examination.  Like all children of nature they were decidedly indiscreet and troublesome in their curiosity, but when the light was extinguished they took the hint and departed.

When we awoke next morning it was broad daylight, and we found a crowd of natives in front of the tent.  Our arrival was evidently regarded as an important event, and all the inhabitants of the aoul were anxious to make our acquaintance.  First our host came forward.  He was a short, slimly-built man, of middle age, with a grave, severe expression, indicating an unsociable disposition.  We afterwards learned that he was an akhun*—­that is to say, a minor officer of the Mahometan ecclesiastical administration, and at the same time a small trader in silken and woollen stuffs.  With him came the mullah, or priest, a portly old gentleman with an open, honest face of the European type, and a fine grey beard.  The