gangway to breathe the fresh air of the Kara Koum. I would offer him
one of those choice regalias with which my case is well provided. He
would tell me if these stations I see on my time-table, Balla-Ischem,
Aïdine, Pereval, Kansandjik, Ouchak, are of any interest--which they do
not seem to be. But it would not do for me to disturb his siesta. And
yet his conversation ought to be interesting, for as a surgeon in the
Russian army he took part in the campaigns of Generals Skobeleff and
Annenkof. When our train ran through the little stations that it honors
only with a whistle, he could tell me if this one or that one had been
the scene of any incident of the war. As a Frenchman I am justified in
questioning him about the Russian expedition across Turkestan, and I
have no doubt that my fellow passenger will be pleased to gratify me.
He is the only one I can really trust besides Popof.

But why is Popof not in his seat? He also is not insensible to the
charms of a cigar. It would seem that his conversation with the
engineer has not finished yet.

Ah! Here he is coming from the front of the luggage van. He comes out
of it and shuts the door; he remains for a moment and is about to take
a seat. A hand which holds a cigar, is stretched out toward him. Popof
smiles and soon his perfumed puffs are mingling voluptuously with mine.

For fifteen years I think I said our guard had been in the Transcaspian
service. He knows the country up to the Chinese frontier, and five or
six times already he has been over the whole line known as the Grand
Transasiatic.

Popof was on duty on the section between Mikhailov and Kizil Arvat when
the line opened--a section which was begun in the December of 1880 and