up and dismisses the wild-looking children of
the desert with a grandiloquent sweep of his hand, he is almost rewarded
by an involuntary "bravo, old un!" from myself, so superior to the
occasion does he seem to rise.

The little nest of mud huts are found, after a certain amount of
hesitation and preliminary going ahead by "The Aged," and toward
nightfall three picturesque horsemen ride up and dismount; they are the
sowars detailed by the Ameer's orders to Abdurraheim, or some other
border-land khan, to escort me across the Desert of Despair.

"The Aged" bravely returns to Tabbas in the morning by himself. When on
the point of departing, he surveys me wistfully across a few feet of
space and shouts "h-o-i!" He then regards me with a peculiar and
indescribable smile. It is not a very hard smile to interpret, however,
and I present him with the customary backsheesh. Pocketing the coins, he
shouts "h-o-i!'" again, and delivers himself of another smile even more
peculiar and indescribable than the other.

"Persian-like, receiving a present of money only excites his cupidity for
more," I think; and so reply by a deprecatory shake of the head. This
turns out to be an uncharitable judgment, however, for once; he goes
through the pantomime of using a pen and says, "Abdurraheim Khan." He saw
me write my name, the date of my appearance at Tabbas, etc., on a piece
of paper and give it to Abdurraheim Khan, and he wants me to do the same
thing for him.

The three worthies comprising my new escort are most interesting
specimens of the genus sowar; the leader and spokesman of the trio says
he is a khan; number two is a mirza, and number three a mudbake. Khans
are pretty plentiful hereabouts, and it is nothing surprising to happen
across one acting in the humble capacity of a sowar; a mirza gets his
title from his ability to write letters; the precise social status of a
mudbake is more difficult to here determine, but his proper
roosting-place is several rungs of the social ladder below either of the
others. They are to take me through to the Khan of Grhalakua, the first
Afghan chieftain beyond the desert, and to take back to the Ameer a
receipt from him for my safe delivery.

It is a far easier task to reckon up their moral calibre than their
social. Before being in their delectable company an hour they reveal that
strange mingling of childlike simplicity and total moral depravity that
enters into the composition of semi-civilize