FROM GOKTCHAI TO LENKORAN. 309 



are ill-built; and from the dismal, sickly-coloured 

 sea, which lies motionless by the walls of the 

 town, comes an offensive odour which must be im 

 bearable in summer. The officials of the place are 

 almost all Armenian. . 



Soon after my arrival, I went down to the 

 bazaar to look for a gunsmith, and finding an old 

 Persian cross-legged in a booth hung with ancient 

 arms and dangerous-looking guns, submitted my 

 fowling-piece to him for repairs. The injury he 

 had to set right was a bad dent in one of the 

 barrels, got by a fall from the tarantasse on our 

 road here. The last I saw of him he had the end 

 of something like a poker down the muzzle and 

 was belabouring my luckless gun with a sledge- 

 hammer. I think this must have nearly roused 

 me ; but it evidently did not quite, for my next 

 recollection is of waking suddenly in the booth 

 beside the old armourer, who had long ago finished 

 my gun's repairs, and was now gravely amused at 

 Ivan's face of surprise at the odd position in which, 

 after half a day's search, he at last found me. Be 

 it said to the honour of that Persian, when I left 

 the bazaar my gun was fairly mended, and the>*e 

 was nothing missing from my pocket. 



During that first day at Lenkoran I had much 

 to do, especially as my man was told by the 

 employes of the local forester that we should not be 

 allowed to shoot without a licence. An interview 



