arrived upon the left shore of the Bosphorus, notwithstanding the Ottoman authorities and the tax collectors, it is needless to insist.
Redout-Kalé being only ninety versts from the Turkish frontier, in four-and-twenty hours the most headstrong of Turks might depend upon stepping once more upon Ottoman territory. Then he would be at home.
"En route, nephew," cried Kéraban good-humouredly. "May Allah continue his protection!"
"En route!" said Ahmet.
They took their places, followed by Van Mitten, who in vain endeavoured to find out the mythological peak of the Caucasus on which Prometheus had expiated his crime. The chaise started with much cracking of the whip and neighing of horses.
In an hour the chaise passed the frontier of Gouriel, which since 1801 has been annexed to Mingrelia. Poti is the capital—a considerable port on the Black Sea, whence a railway is laid to Tiflis, the capital of Georgia.
The road ascends gently through and into a fertile country. Here and there are villages or houses scattered amid the fields of maize. The appearance of these structures is curious; they are not built of wood, but of platted straw like basket-work. Van Mitten made a note of this. Indeed there were only these petty details to be noted in the journey across the ancient Colchis. Subsequently, perhaps, he will be more happy when he reaches the banks of the Rion—the river of Poti—the celebrated Phasis of antiquity, which many geographers believe to have been one of the four Rivers of the Garden of Eden.
In another hour the travellers were stopped by the railway which runs from Poti to Tiflis; and which crosses the highway a verst below the Sakario station. They were obliged to cross the line, to reach Poti, by the left bank of the stream. The horses were pulled up at the gate of the level-crossing. The windows of the carriage were down; so Kéraban and his friends could see all that passed. The postillion began to call for the gate-man, who had not put in an appearance.
Kéraban put his head out of his window.
