the chosen one ceased to please. The office was not an object of ambition, for the Khan's authority was little more than a matter of form. He had forty jigits, or attendants, to enforce order; but he had not the power of the purse. For special purposes a tribal representative, termed Ikhtiyar, was chosen by the popular assembly. Thus, in 1881, O'Donovan found one at Merv who had been sent to treat with the Shah of Persia at Teheran.1 In latter days the tribe exhibited a tendency to follow the ordinary evolution of a state, which is from a democracy to a hereditary monarchy acquired by the sword. The new departure began with a famous chieftain named Nur Verdi Khan, who had led the Tekkes in the victories over the Khivans, the Persians, and the Sāriks. He was intrepid, just, and hospitable, moulded in the stamp of those who carve for themselves empire, and his influence was so great that he was permitted to hand over the chiefship of the Akkal Tekkes to his son Makhdūm Kuli Khan,2 when he assumed that of the Merv oasis. The growth of the hereditary principle was doubtless fostered by the sense of impending danger from the Russian avalanche. In earlier times an attempt to introduce it would have been fiercely resisted by the untamed nomads. Old age and experience alone commanded weight, and the yoke of Mohammedanism, elsewhere so heavy in the East, pressed but lightly on these popular assemblies. Though nominally Sunnis or orthodox followers of the Prophet, the Turkomans practised few of the interminable observances prescribed by the Koran; and the mullās, mostly steeped in 1 O'Donovan, Story of Merv, p. 220.

2 Nür Verdi Khan was one of those exceptional men, to be found in widely divergent societies, who acquire the commanding influence which all strong personalities must attain. His death, at the comparatively early age of fifty, just before the Russian invasion, was the death-knell of Tekke independence (Moser, p. 319).

ignorance, possessed no influence over them.1 But the Tekkes felt instinctively the impossibility of maintaining democratic methods in times of stress. Military operations were confided to the tribesmen of known valour and intelligence, termed Sardārs,2 who had a minute knowledge of the country to be traversed, and were intrusted with the direction of the raids, which were the main object of the Turkoman's existence. Thus did these banditti acquire prisoners who could be held to ransom, and slaves who found a ready market in the neighbouring Khanates. The things needed were a good horse, arms, and a contempt for death. "He who puts his hand to his sword-hilt," runs a Turkoman proverb, "hath no need to ask for a good reason." "On horseback," says another, "a Tekke knows neither father nor mother." When one of these natural leaders of men determined on a foray, he planted his lance, surmounted by a flag, in the ground in front of his kibitka, and invited all good Musulmans, in the name of the Prophet, to range themselves under his banner.

The call to arms was rarely disregarded; and the Sardar soon found his tent besieged by several hundreds, or even thousands, of warriors prepared to yield him a blind obedience. He fixed the date and place of gathering, but the object was not disclosed. On the day prescribed his followers assembled, each on a well-trained

1 Wolff found a "Calipha," or high priest, named 'Abd er-Rahman enjoying great influence at Merv in 1843. This was another case of force of character leading to the attainment of greatness (Bokhara, pp. 114, 115).

2 Sardar is a Persian word signifying "head-man." Tokma Sardar, who had commanded the garrison of Geok Teppe during the memorable siege by the Russians, visited O'Donovan at Merv soon after that event. "He was slightly under middle height, very quiet, almost subdued in manner, his small grey eyes lighting up with a humorous twinkle" (The Story of Merv, p. 178).

3 The weapons were a long flintlock, laboriously loaded with the contents of a powder-horn and leather bullet bag, but the Tekke trusted chiefly to his sabre and a long murderous dagger, called pshak (Moser, p. 296).

If the

stallion, and leading spare horses with provisions. object of attack lay in the plains of Khorāsān, the Kopet Dāgh Mountains were scaled by one of the three passes practicable to Tekke horsemen, On reaching the southern slopes, the provisions were left in some sure retreat, known only to the Sardār, under the charge of a few horsemen, while the day was spent in preparing for the raid.1 Far in the valley below lay the village destined to destruction. The smoke curled upwards from its white cottages embowered in forest trees. The old men gossiped in the evening sun; the maidens were bringing home the cattle from the pastures. This was the moment chosen for the onslaught. In a few moments the village street was thronged with fierce Turkomans bending low over the saddle-bow and hacking and stabbing right and left. Then the survivors,

with the cattle and valuables, were gathered together and hurried off to the robbers' lair. When pursuit was feared, 100 or even 130 miles were traversed ere rein was drawn. The girls and child captives, being more valuable than adults, were carried at some warrior's saddle-bow, but all able to run were dragged in chains behind the captors. When they sank from fatigue their sufferings were ended by a thrust from the long Turkoman dagger. If the quarry were a Kurd village, greater precautions were needed, for every settlement had its tower into which the population fled on an alarm being given. These fortresses were sometimes stormed while the defenders slept, and the garrison stabbed with fiendish ferocity. In dealing with caravans, the Turkomans lay in wait for their prey in the vicinity of wells, and swooped down on the travellers during their halt. At other times they hung on the outskirts of the procession of camels and cut off stragglers. Success depended on 2 Ibid. p. 300.

1 Moser, p. 324.

the suddenness of attack; and if it failed it was seldom repeated, for bravery was not a characteristic of the Turkoman, except when the safety and honour of his family were at stake. Then, as the Russians found to their cost, they fought like lions.

For the slaves a ready market was found in the Khanates of Khiva and Bokhārā, whence dealers visited Tekke settlements at frequent intervals. The traffic was of ancient date, and, until the advent of the Russians, was recognised by law and custom. Florio Beneveni, an Italian who passed some time at Bokhārā in the early part of the eighteenth century, informed Peter the Great that 3000 Russians were held captive there, and, at the commencement of our own, Mouravieff reported that a similar number languished in bondage in Khiva.1 Wolff, writing in 1843, estimated the number of Persian slaves in Bokhārā at 200,000, and those detained at Khiva about the same period were stated by Major Abbott to exceed 700,000. The price paid varied with the age of the prisoner, children and young girls being twice as valuable as adults.

But the Tekke considered his steed as even more indispensable than a trusted leader to success in pursuing his inherited instinct. The fame of the Turkoman horse is as old as Alexander's days. Timur improved the breed by distributing 5000 Arab stallions among the tribesmen, and in our own day Shah Nasir ud-Din, of Persia, unwisely sent 600 to his ancient foes. But the Turkoman's innocent ally in his marauding expeditions showed hardly any traces of Arab ancestry. He was big, leggy, and narrow-chested, with a high crupper, large head, and sloping quarters. The neck and tail showed none of the proud curves which characterise the 1 Moser, p. 247. 2 Ibid. p. 320.

Ibid.; also O'Donovan, p. 298.

courser of Yemen. At short distances he was no match for the English thoroughbred; but with careful training and special diet he was able to amble for 60 or 70 miles a day for an almost unlimited period.1 When hard pressed, a Tekke has been known to travel with two steeds at the rate of 160 miles a day, and even more. The endurance of the horseman was even more remarkable, for he could keep his saddle for twenty hours out of the twenty-four during eight consecutive days.2 The Tekke stallions-mares were rarely ridden-were not indulged in stabling, but picketed outside their owner's tent, and preserved against cold by layers of felt, the number of which increased with his age. They were never removed without the greatest precaution, and served to maintain the coat in a lustrous sheen, though a knife and a piece of felt were the only substitutes for the currycomb, brush, and clippers of Western stables. On these coverings was placed the wooden saddle with a high peak, which was covered with a piece of coloured silk tied across the chest. The Turkoman's warmest affections were lavished on his steed, with whom he would share the last drop of water, the last handful of barley meal. The whip was carried merely for show,

1 O'Donovan, p. 297. The training consisted in a gradual reduction of the rations of food and water. Dry lucern gave place to chopped straw; barley and juwārī (sorghum), to a mixture of flour and matter-fat.

* Moser, p. 322. It is remarkable that the Tekke seat is precisely the same as that in use among the nomads of the Mongolian plateau north of the Great Wall, who, according to Mr. E. H. Parker in a letter addressed to the Pall Mall Gazette, “always ride with very short stirrups, the knee bent forward almost to the withers, the reins grasped short, and (when there is any speed) the body well over the horse's neck. Possibly this is the reason why the Mongol saddle always has a high peak, for it prevents the rider being chucked over the horse's neck." This method is also identical with that

adopted by the jockey Tod Sloan.

"The

The felt blankets were worked by the cavaliers' women-folk. finer the courser's felt," ran a Turkoman proverb, "the greater the love of the maker for the horseman" (Moser, p. 331).