The Squires Son
was now covered with wild tulips, yellow and red, among
the stones and mortar. Patches of wall clung here and there
to the lip of the rock and showed the extent of the enclosure:
but nearly everything is ruined beyond the power of
imagination to reconstruct, and the lower part of the castle,
where rooms and a tank of water are dug out, were in-
accessible without climbing-shoes which I had not brought
with me.
Down there, so they say at Shutur Khan, seven black
dogs guard the treasure and breathe fire, but fly—rather
inadequately—as one approaches. The vine of Hasan
spreads over the face of the Rock—perhaps of that second
Hasan who released the valley from teetotalism; and the
roses of Hasan grow on a narrow ledge whence my host
had brought slips for his garden and gave me an Assassins'
bouquet before I left.
We lit the samovar and sat round it in our coats, for a
cool wind was blowing. I had chocolate with me, and
persuaded the rather nervous party to share. Mahniud
was the boldest, a proper descendant of the valley, and a true
boy: our picnic was a joyful event to him. He had often
climbed up the southern face of the Rock, he said, and had
picked grapes from Hasan's vine.
When, after hunting for shards of pottery which lay all
over the ground below, we returned to the village and went
into our guide's house for tea, it was pleasant to see the
people with their master's son, and his friendly young
air of authority among them. It was very much like the
squire's son in some old-fashioned English village. The
men of Qasir Khan came one by one to sit in our circle,
while the women stood beyond, and the children scrambled
about on the wall; and they told us their stories of Hasan,
but I thought they sounded like echoes of other travellers;
[221]