The road ran past fields where workers were gathering licorice root. They passed a tractor dragging a plow but it wasn't the type used for wheat or cotton. This was a special plow, with only one blade. Is sank deep into the ground and dug up the licorice root.
   The workers gathered these roots, cleaned them  off, and then heaped them into a big pile.
   "What are the roots used for?" Arsian asked his grandfather.
   "They're used to benefit man,  Rakhim-aga replied. "Various medicines are made from licorice root, and it's also used for making candy and beer. Have you ever taken any cough syrup?"
   "Yes. It tastes good."
   "That's because it's made from licorice.
   "Our licorice?"
   "That's right.
   "I didn't know that!" Arslan said in surprise. The motorcycle swung into a dense thicket and the ride suddenly
became bumpy until they had passed it and the road leveled out once again.
   "Grandpa! Grandpa! Arslan cried.
   "What, my lad?" Rakhim-aga asked, slowing down.
   "Let's go up that mountain!"
   Rakhim-aga looked at the blue-tinged mountain ridges off in the distance.
   "No, my child. We'd never make it up - it's - it's too high and steep.
   "What are those dark patches on the mountain?"
   "That's a juniper forest."
   "Who planted it?"
   "Mother nature, I suppose."
   "Then how did Mother nature climb up there?"
   Rakhim-aga glanced back at his grandson in astonishment and burst out laughing before giving the accelerator pedal a thrust. The motorcycle rumbled and sped along so fast that the bushes alongside the road became a single green blur.