y unwilling guest rose to go. It
was eating humble-pie with a vengeance, but hunger, like many other
things, has no laws. "I am not a stall-keeper," was the answer. A
request to be permitted to ascend the hill and visit the fort was met
by an emphatic refusal. I then, as a last resource, inquired, through
Kamoo, if my hospitable host had any objection to my walking through
the village. "If you like," was the reply; "but I will not be
responsible for your safety. This is not Kelat. The English are not
our masters. We care nothing for them."

Notwithstanding these mysterious warnings, however, I visited the
village towards sunset, alone with Gerome, fearing lest the sight of
my escort should arouse the ire and suspicions of the natives. There
was little to see and nothing to interest. Gwarjak is built without
any attempt at order or symmetry. Many of the houses had toppled over
till their roofs touched the ground, and the whole place presented an
appearance of poverty and decay strangely at variance with the smiling
plains of grain, rice, and tobacco around it. Not a human being was
visible, for our appearance was the signal for a general stampede
indoors, but the dirty, narrow streets swarmed with huge, fierce dogs,
who would have attacked us but for the heavy "nagaikas" [A] with which
we were armed. We were evidently cordially hated by both men and
beasts! On return to camp I gave orders for a start at four the next
morning. There was no object to be gained by remaining, and the
natives would have been only too glad of an excuse for open attack.

The remains of an ancient city, covering a very large area, are said
to exist near Gwarjak, about a mile due south of it. I could, however,
discover no trace of them, although we came from that direction, and
must have traversed the supposed site.

After the fatigue and anxiety of the day, I was enjoying a cigar in
the bright moonlight, when a messenger from the village arrived in
camp. He had a narrow escape. Not answering the challenge of the
sentry for the second time, the latter was about to fire, when I ran
forward and threw up his rifle, which discharged in the air. A second
later, and the man would have been shot, in which case I do not
suppose we should ever have seen Quetta. The message was from Malak,
inviting me to a "Zigri," a kind of religious dance, taking place just
outside the village. After some reflection, I decided to go. It might,
of course, mean treacher