Moldavian frontier--Tölgyes--Excitement about robbers--Attempt at
extortion--A ride over the mountains--Return to St Miklos.
Instead of going back to St Miklos by the same route, I resolved to
diverge a little if the weather permitted. I wanted to visit Tölgyes, a
village on the frontier of Moldavia, which is said to be very pretty.
The weather decidedly improved, so I rode off in that direction. The
road, owing to the late rains, was in a dreadful state. All the mountain
summits were covered with fresh snow; it was a lovely sight. The
dazzling whiteness of these peaks rising above the zone of dark
fir-trees was singularly striking and beautiful. The effect of sunshine
was exhilarating in the highest degree, and the contrast with my recent
experience gave it a keener relish.
At Tölgyes there is a considerable trade with Moldavia in wood. Quite a
fresh human interest was imparted to the scene by this industry. By the
side of the stream small rafts were in course of construction, and the
trunks of the trees were being placed in position to make the descent of
the stream. The woodman's axe was heard in the forest, and many a
picturesque hut or group of huts were to be seen by the roadside, where
the woodmen and their families live, to be near their work. The labour
of getting the timber along these tortuous mountain streams is very
great. A ready market is found at Galatz, where a great deal of this
wood is sent.
I remained the night at Tölgyes. The whole place was in a state of
excitement about brigands; every one had some fresh rumour to help swell
the general panic. A company of soldiers were kept constantly patrolling
the roads in the neighbourhood. I should say they were pretty safe not
to encounter the robbers, who are always well informed under those
circumstances.
In studying my pocket-map, I found that there was clearly a short cut
over the mountains to St Miklos. On inquiry I extracted the confirmation
of the fact with difficulty, and I had still more difficulty in inducing
anybody to go with me as a guide. At length I secured the services of a
fellow who was willing to go for a tolerably substantial
"consideration." I was afraid to work my way entirely by the map, for
roads are apt to be vague in these parts. Ten chances to one whether
you know a road when you see it; it might be a green sward, or the
rubbly dry bed of a mountain torrent, or a cattle-track; it may lead
somewhere or nowhere. Unassisted you may wander all manner of ways.
I made my start very early in the morning, for I had a long way to go,
and my guide was on foot; there was not much use in being mounted,
considering the pace that the roughness of the road forced us to take.
Before leaving Tölgyes I had a row with the innkeeper. He made a most
exorbitant demand upon me, at least three times over what was properly
due. I told him at once that I declined to pay the full amount he asked.
I knew perfectly well what the charge ought to be, and I said I should
pay that and no more. Hereupon he got very angry, and informed me that
he should not saddle my horse or let me go till I had paid him in full.
I immediately went into the stable and saddled the horse myself; I then
put down on the window-seat the money which I considered was due to him,
giving a fair and liberal margin, but I was not going to be "done"
because I was a foreigner. I ordered my guide to proceed, and I myself
quickly rode out of the place. The innkeeper worked himself up into a
tremendous rage, and declared he would have me back, or at least he
would have his cold meat and bread back that I had ordered for the
journey. I gave my horse the rein, and left the fellow uttering his
blessings both loud and deep.
We had ten miles of as bad a road as any I had yet seen in my travels.
The mud in some places was two feet deep. We followed the windings of a
stream called the Putna Patak, and came presently to a wayside inn
frequented by foresters. Here we made a short halt, got a bottle of
decent wine and a crust of bread. Immediately on quitting this place we
turned into a less frequented path, and began a stiffish ascent. It was
a superb day, and I enjoyed it immensely, not having been much favoured
by weather lately. Our route was through a thick forest, the trees, as
usual in these, magnificent, with their gigantic girth, and
widespreading branches. At times I got a glimpse of the snowy mountain
summits standing out against the intensely blue sky.
At mid-day I told the guide to look out for the next spring, for there
we would dine. We did not find a spring for some time, at least not by
the wayside, and I was reluctant to lose time by wandering about. At
length when we had secured a water-tap--viz., a little trickling rill
flowing between some stones and spongy moss--we found ourselves in a
difficulty about the fire. There was plenty of wood, but it was all
soaking wet and would not burn. Luckily a fir-tree was spied out, which
provided us with a good quantity of turpentine, and with this we
persuaded the fire to blaze up a bit. We cooked the dinner, had a smoke,
a short rest, and then _en avant_--always through the forest.
Later in the afternoon, emerging from the wood, we came upon a grassy
plateau which commanded a glorious view of the Transylvanian side of the
Carpathians. I was glad to see the familiar valley of Gyergyó away
westward, with its numerous villages and green pasturage. The same
physical peculiarity pervades the whole of Hungary. Whenever you get a
vale of any extent, it is as flat as if it were a bit of the great
plain. Everywhere you have the impression that formerly the waters of a
lake must have covered the level verdure of the valley. As soon as I
caught sight of St Miklos I dismissed my guide, for his services were no
longer required, and I could get on quicker without him. I had still a
long distance to go, for I was not far below the summit. I was extremely
anxious to get into safe quarters before dark, so I made the best of the
way, leading my horse down the steep bits, and mounting again for a
short trot where it was possible.
On arriving at the house of my Armenian friends at St Miklos, happily
before sundown, I was greatly disappointed to find that there would be
no bear-hunt the next day. Those detestable robbers had turned up again,
and the people who were to have formed part of the sporting expedition
were obliged to go robber-hunting, a sport not much to their taste I
fancy.
It appeared that the fellows had entered an out-of-the-way inn, or
rather wine-shop, and boldly ordered the owner to procure for them a
certain amount of gunpowder, which they required should be ready for
them the next day, and failing to carry out their orders, they
threatened to shoot him. He was obliged to promise, for there were five
of them, and except women he was alone in the house. They drank a
quantity of his wine, and asked for no reckoning, saying they would pay
for it the next day along with the gunpowder.
Directly they had left the premises, the innkeeper set off as fast as
his legs could carry him to St Miklos to ask for help. The robbers
seemed to be such bunglers that one would judge them to be new to the
business; but the innkeeper's terror knew no bounds, and he declared
they were awful-looking cut-throats. Two of the men were caught the
next day. I saw them brought into the village heavily manacled; they
were harmless-looking Wallacks, not very different in appearance from my
guide over the mountain. Though armed with guns, they made no
resistance; and when they were discovered they had called out lustily to
the soldiers not to fire, for they would give themselves up. I expect
they were let off with imprisonment, but I never heard the end of the
story. I owed them a grudge for spoiling my bear-hunt, which I missed
altogether, for I could not wait until the following Sunday.
I left St Miklos with an introduction to some rich Armenians at
Toplicza, where I intended making my next halt.