ing of them, and wearing
them in his turban and kammerbund. The people seem to be fairly revelling
in the delights of these choicest gems from Flora's evidently overflowing
storehouse. The men average tall and handsome; they look like veritable
warrior-priests in their flowing white costumes, and they make a strange
picture of mingled barbarism and aestheticism as they loaf in lazy
magnificence about the tumble-down ruins of the konak, toying with their
roses in silence. They seem contented and happy in their isolation from
the great busy outer world, and, impressed by their universal
appreciation of a flower, it occurs to me, on the impulse of ocular
evidence, that it would be the greatest pity to disturb and corrupt these
people by attempting to thrust upon them our Western civilization--they
seem far happier than a civilized community.

The khan obtains his receipt for my delivery, and by and by Aminulah Khan
sends his man to request the favor of a tomasha. Leaving my other effects
behind in charge of the sowars, I take the bicycle and favor him with a
few turns in front of the village gate. Among the various contents of my
leathern case is a bag of kerans; but, although the case is not locked,
it is provided with a peculiar fastening which I fondly imagine to be
beyond the ingenuity of the khan to open. So that, while well enough
aware of that guileful individual's uncontrollable avarice in general,
and his deep, dark designs on my money in particular, I think little of
leaving it with him for the few minutes I expect to be absent. It strikes
me as a trifle suspicious, however, upon discovering that while everybody
else comes to see the tomasha, all three of the sowars remain behind.

Instinctively I arrive at the conclusion that with these three worthy
kleptomaniacs left alone in a room with some other person's portable
property, something is pretty sure to happen to the property; so,
excusing myself as quickly as courtesy will permit, I hasten back to our
quarters. The mudbake is found posted at the outer gate of the konak. He
is keeping watch while his delectable comrades search the package in
which they sagaciously locate the silver lucre they so much covet. Seeing
me approaching, he makes a trumpet of his hands and sings out warningly
to his accomplices that I am coming back. Taking no more notice of him
than usual, I pass inside and repair at once to the bala-khana, to find
that the khan and the mirza have dis