ed off, and by means of a tattered bit of sacking for a sail,
and a long pole, managed to reach their destination somehow. It was
curious to see these primitive craft filled with the black cases of the
precious X-ray plant.

The creeks round Ashar branch off at right angles to the Shatt-el-Arab
at intervals of a few hundred yards, and extend for two or three miles
inland. They are broad and richly bordered with palms and pomegranate.
In places a network of vines festoons the trunks. A yellow tinge in the
heart of the palms showed the coming crop of dates. Seen in a picture
these creeks are idyllic, winding broad, calm and peaceful through the
groves. Slim boats glide up and down them, nut-brown children splash in
them, and women, veiled in black, come from the little villages to draw
water in brass vessels at their margins with graceful movements.

We landed from a roomy barge with a tug fastened alongside. The men
were cheery, and a mouth-organ and a mandoline wafted us on. Something
dark and indeterminate swept by on the swift current. It was said to be
the body of a dead Turk, bound for the Persian Gulf, after its voyage of
two hundred odd miles from Kut. We landed, uncomfortably hot. The men
fell in and we prepared to march off. A swarthy Arab, in red and white
headgear held in position by two thick rings of camel hair, wearing
curved slippers and saffron-coloured robes, stood scowling before us,
spitting at intervals. A group of sappers near by seemed unaffected by
his behaviour. The scowl and the spitting seem merely habits, induced by
the country. But it is necessary to orientate oneself very carefully in
the East. A long tramp followed up Dusty Lane, between scorching mud
walls. We passed dirty booths, naked children with frizzy hair, thin
faced women with swaggering hips, and occasional military police in
shirt-sleeves carrying thick sticks. The sight of a large cat sitting in
a niche, blinking in that excellent manner of inward ecstasy, was
cheering. On, beyond the town the march continued, the sweat pouring off
us, and tunics becoming stained with dark patches--through the camp
area, past Indian troops; past horses, tossing and switching, surrounded
by clouds of flies; past bullocks, huge, delicately pastel-tinted
beasts, sprawling under the feathery palms; past screaming mules, motor
lorries, wayside canteens and squads of men, until Makina Plain came in
sight. It was in this neighbourhood that our site lay,