At the very top of the pass lay a
baby thrown aside there and just drawing its last breath.
So for two days they jolted on hardly getting an hour's sleep. At last
at midday on the third day they left Hadarabad at the south end of
Lake Urumia. Two hours later the sound of booming guns was heard. A
horseman galloped up.
"The Turks are in Hadarabad," he said. "They are attacking the rear of
the procession."
"It seemed," said Mrs. Shedd, "as if at any moment we should hear the
screams of those behind, as the enemy fell upon them."
The wagons hurried on to the next town called Memetyar and there Dr.
Shedd waited, lightening his own wagons by throwing away everything
that they could spare--oil, potatoes, charcoal, every box except his
Bible and a small volume of Browning's Poems.
Then they started again, along a road that was littered with the
discarded goods of the people. Then they saw on the road-side a little
baby girl that had been left by her parents. She was not a year old
and sat there all alone in a desolate spot. Left to die. Dr. Shedd
looked at his wife and she at him.
He pulled up the horse and jumped down, picked up the baby and put her
in the wagon. They went along till they came to a large village. Here
they found a Kurdish mother.
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