s exemplified in my escort from Beerjand, were entitled to
the worst execrations of a discriminating Ferenghi, but the Afghans can
go them one better. If it is possible to imagine anything in the whole
world of sound more jarring and discordant than the united efforts of
these Afghan sowars, I have never yet discovered it. Out of pure
consideration and courtesy, I endure it for some little time; but they
finally reach a high-searching key that is positively unendurable, and I
am compelled in sheer self-protection to beg the khan to suppress their
exuberance. "These men are not bul-buls; then why do they sing?" is all
that is necessary for me to say. They all laugh heartily at the remark,
and the khan orders them to sing no more. Over a country that consists
chiefly of trailless hills and intervening strips of desert, we wend our
weary way, the bicycle often proving more of a drag than a benefit. The
weather gets insufferably hot; in places the rocks fairly shimmer with
heat, and are so hot that one can scarce hold the hand to them. We camp
for the first night at a village, and on the second at an umbar that
suggests our approach to Persia, and in the morning we make an early
start with the object of reaching Karize before evening.

The day grows warm apace, and, at ten miles, the khan calls a halt for
the discussion of what simple refreshments we have with us. Our larder
embraces dry bread and cold goat-meat and a few handfuls of raisins. It
ought also to include water in the leathern bottle swinging from the
stirrup of one of the sowars; but when we halt, it is to discover that
this worthy has forgotten to fill his bottle. The way has been heavy for
a bicycle, trundling wearily through sand mainly, with no riding to speak
of; and young as is the day, I am well-nigh overcome with thirst and
weariness. I am too thirsty to eat, and, miserably tired and disgusted,
one gets an instructive lesson in the control of the mind over the body.
Much of my fatigue comes of low spirits, born of disappointment at being
conducted back into Persia.

One of the sowars is despatched ahead to fill his bottle with water at a
well known to be some five miles farther ahead, and to meet us with it on
the way. On through the sand and heat we plod wearily, myself almost sick
with thirst, fatigue, and disgust. Mohammed Ahzim Khan, observing my
wretched condition, insists upon me letting one of the sowars try his
hand at trundling the wheel, while