their beaks in the odd way that
gives them their onomatopoetic Arabic name of Lak-Lak. It sounded like the
rattle of machine-guns; so much so that on entering the village, for the
first second I thought that the Turks were opening up on us. No native
will molest a stork; to do so is considered to the last degree
inauspicious.

There was but little water in the river running by Taza, and we managed to
get the cars through under their own power. A few miles farther on lay a
broad watercourse, dry in the main, but with the centre channel too deep
to negotiate, so there was nothing to be done without the help of the
artillery horses. The Turks were shelling the vicinity of the crossing, so
we drew back a short distance and sent word that we were held up waiting
for assistance to get us over.

Once we had reached the far side we set out to pick our way round Kirkuk
to get astride the road leading thence to Altun Kupri. This is the main
route from Baghdad to Mosul, the chief city on the upper Tigris, across
the river from the ruins of Nineveh. It was a difficult task finding a way
practicable for the cars, as the ground was still soft from the recent
rains. It was impossible to keep defiladed from Turkish observation, but
we did not supply them with much in the way of a target. At length we got
round to the road, and started to advance down it to Kirkuk. The town, in
common with so many others in that part of the country, is built on a
hill. The Hamawand Kurds are inveterate raiders, and good fortifications
are needed to withstand them. As we came out upon the road we caught sight
of our cavalry preparing to attack. The Turks were putting up a stout
resistance, with darkness fast coming to their aid. After approaching
close to the town, we were ordered to return to a deserted village for the
night, prepared to go through in the early morning.

The co-ordinates of the village were given, and we easily found it on the
map; but it was quite another proposition to locate it physically. To add
to our difficulties, the sky clouded over and pitchy blackness settled
down. It soon started to rain, so we felt that the best we could do was
select as likely a spot as came to hand and wait for morning. I made up my
mind that the front seat of a van, uncomfortable and cramped as it was,
would prove the best bed for the night. My estimate was correct, for at
midnight the light drizzle, that was scarcely more than a Scotch mist,
turned int