and smartened up as well as
circumstances would permit. The natives overcame their shyness next
morning, and brought us goat's milk and "rogan," or clarified butter.
The Baluchis seldom eat meat, their food principally consisting of
cakes or bread made of grain, with buttermilk and rice. A favourite
preparation known as "shalansh," and called "krout" by the Afghans, is
made by boiling buttermilk till the original quantity is reduced by
half. The remainder is then strained through a thick felt bag, in the
sun. When the draining ceases, the mass in the bag is formed into
small lumps dried hard by the sun's rays. When required for use these
lumps are pounded and placed in warm water, where they are worked by
the hands until dissolved. The thickened fluid is then boiled with
rogan and eaten with bread.

Assafoetida, indigenous to the country, is largely used among all
classes for flavouring dishes. So much is this noxious plant liked
by Baluchis, that it goes by the name of "khush-khorak," or pleasant
food. At Kelat, in the palace of the Khan, I was offered it pickled,
but it is usually eaten stewed in butter.

About midday, to my great surprise, Malak made his appearance in
person, mounted on a good-looking chestnut stallion, its bridle
and saddle adorned with gold and silver trappings. Four attendants
followed on sorry-looking steeds. The chief, a tall, well-built
fellow, about thirty years of age, with a sulky, sinister cast of
countenance, was clad in a bright green satin jacket, white and gold
turban, loose dark-blue trousers, and embroidered slippers. The loss
of one eye gave him a still more unpleasant expression, a lock
of coarse black hair being dragged over the face to conceal the
disfigurement. The whole party were armed to the teeth, and carried
guns, shields, and revolvers.

Our interview did not commence propitiously. Swinging himself off his
horse, Malak returned my salutation with a sulky nod, and swaggered
into the tent, signing to his suite to follow his example. Curtly
refusing my offer of refreshment, he called for his pipe-bearer, and,
lighting a kalyan, commenced puffing vigorously at some abominably
smelling tobacco, which soon rendered the interior of the tent
unbearable. It is, unfortunately, Baluch etiquette to allow a guest
to open the conversation. Malak, well aware of this, maintained
a stolid silence, and appeared hugely to enjoy the annoyance and
impatience I tried in vain to conceal. It