The Throne of Solomon

companions, the mountains of Kujur. And farthest of all,
incredibly high, among white cumuli of cloud, smooth and
serene above all earthly visible things, shone Demavend,
striped with snow, seen only for a moment.

But though there are few instants in themselves better than
those when, from, an escaladed ridge, one looks upon new
country, the joy of complete achievement was not ours: and if
this were a story with a plot instead of being merely the
matter-of-fact diary it is, the Hungarian engineer would
certainly figure as the villain. It was he, though we did not
know it at the time, who robbed us of our triumph. He who,
in the Arcadian peace of Darijan, took our shikari apart and
told him that if the foreign lady climbed the Throne of
Solomon where no Ferangi had ever been before, the whole
of the government and Shah Riza himself would come along
with punishments on all who helped her: he himself had not
climbed—why should anyone else do so? No doubt he rea-
soned thus in the blackness of his soul. And our shikari
said nothing, but instead of leading on from Ab-i-Garm, where
an easy mule track would have led us within possible distance
of the summit, he brought us here, a Peri's jump from Paradise,
and showed us the obviously impossible with an air of regretful,
religious resignation. We learned nothing of all this till the
morning after. Takht-i-Suleiman still remains, so far as I
know, for a European climber to conquer: and I curse the
engineer in my heart, wishing him that his wife may never
cease from talking and his angles be perpetually inaccurate.1

i Since writing the above, Mr. Busk, of the British Legation in Teheran, has
climbed the central peak—Siah Kaman; and discovered that it is the highest of
the three, and about 15,5 oo feet. See his account in the Alpine Journal, Novem-
ber, 1933.

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