THE SULTAN OF TURKEY 



on bays, an equal number on chestnuts, all hold- 

 ing aloft small standards. 



Again came the yell that echoed over in 

 Asia. One of the princes joined his father, 

 who climbed into the doctor-like phaeton as the 

 top was lowered, and took the lines where 

 they had been carefully left, properly tucked 

 between the white whip and the dashboard. 

 The grooms left the stallions' heads and the 

 procession started back. The fine white 

 Arabs, rolling in fat, started to play, and the 

 Sultan popped the whip on the loins, with the 

 same peculiar jerk that common cabmen here 

 use. He then held the reins and whip in his 

 left hand, and saluted, when the great army, 

 so statue-like and cold, fairly knelt to the 

 ground. Back of his carriage pranced a black 

 Arab stallion, and back of him a fine bay one, 

 with white feet and a star in his forehead, and 

 back of them two dapple grays. They were 

 saddled and bridled in rich gold trimmings, 

 looking fit for the Minister of War. But they 

 were not for the Minister of War. They were 

 there in case the kindly appearing old gentle- 

 man might want to ride. He did not care to 

 do so that particular day. He preferred to 

 drive and as he passed up through the big, gol- 



[ 45 ] 



