"You may be quite easy on that point, Seigneur Ahmet," replied Bruno; "we have no desire to be blown up."
"What!" exclaimed Kéraban; do you mean that we cannot smoke here?"
"No, uncle," replied Ahmet; "we must not smoke for some versts at least."
"Not even a cigarette?" added the "headstrong one," who was rolling a pinch of tombékí in his practised fingers.
"Later on, friend Kéraban, later on; it is for all our sakes," said Van Mitten. "It would be as dangerous to smoke here as in a powder magazine."
"A nice country this!" muttered Kéraban. "I should be surprised if a tobacco merchant made his fortune here. Nephew Ahmet, though we had lost a few days, it would have been better to have gone round the Sea of Azof."
Ahmet made no answer. He did not wish to enter into a discussion on this subject. His uncle grumblingly put the cigarette in his pocket, and the travellers continued to follow the chaise, which was a shapeless mass looming in the obscurity of the night.
It was necessary, then, to proceed with extreme caution for fear of falling. The road was much cut up, and by no means firm under foot. The way ascended gradually towards the east. Fortunately there was no wind, so the vapours ascended straight into the air, instead of blowing against the travellers and thus greatly incommoding them.
They advanced very cautiously for about half an hour. The horses "whinnied" and plunged continually, so that the postillion had considerable difficulty to restrain them. The axle-trees of the chaise groaned when the wheels slipped into some deep rut or other; but the carriage was pretty strong, as had been already proved in the marshes of the lower Danube. In another quarter of an hour the region of the mudcones would be passed.
Suddenly a vivid light appeared on the left of the road. One of the cones had taken fire, and was burning with a tremendous flame. The steppe was illuminated to the extent of a verst around it.
