For further information my host advised me to apply either to the prophet himself, who was at that time confined in the gaol on a charge of using a forged passport, or to one of his friends, a certain Mr.I----, who lived in the town.

As it was a difficult matter to gain admittance to the prisoner, and I had little time at my disposal, I adopted the latter alternative.
Mr.I---- was himself a somewhat curious character.

He had been a student in Moscow, and in consequence of some youthful indiscretions during the University disturbances had been exiled to this place.
After waiting in vain some years for a release, he gave up the idea of entering one of the learned professions, married a peasant girl, rented a piece of land, bought a pair of camels, and settled down as a small farmer.* He had a great deal to tell about the prophet.
* Here for the first time I saw camels used for agricultural purposes.

When yoked to a small four-wheeled cart, the "ships of the desert" seemed decidedly out of place.
Grigorief, it seemed, was really simply a Russian peasant, but he had been from his youth upwards one of those restless people who can never long work in harness.

Where his native place was, and why he left it, he never divulged, for reasons best known to himself.