It is a few minutes past eleven. Still two hours to Gheok Tepe.

The moment has come. I glide between the seats to the door of the car.
I open it gently and shut it after me without being heard by my
companions, without waking any one.

Here I am on the platform, which shakes as the train travels. Amid the
unfathomable darkness which envelops the Kara Koum, I experience the
feeling of a night at sea when on shipboard.

A feeble light filters through the blind of the guard's box. Shall I
wait till it is extinct, or, as is very probable, will it not last till
the morning?

Anyhow, Popof is not asleep, as I discover by the noise he makes in
turning over. I keep quiet, leaning against the balustrade of the
platform.

Leaning forward my looks are attracted by the luminous ray thrown
forward by the headlight of the engine. It seems as though we are
running on a road of fire. Above me the clouds are racing across with
great rapidity, and a few constellations glitter through their rifts,
Cassiopeia, the Little Bear, in the north, and in the zenith Vega of
Lyra.

At length absolute silence reigns on the platforms. Popof, who is in
charge of the train, has his eyes closed in sleep. Assured of safety I
cross the gangway and am in front of the baggage van.

The door is only fastened with a bar which is hung between two staples.