le to discern that the mud-encrusted monster was a Ford car.
A tailor, whose technical training would help him to penetrate the
disguise of thick slime, might have been able to recognize by the cut of
their clothes that the first of the three figures was an R.A.F. driver
and the other two were naval officers. As a matter of fact one of these
forlorn representatives of our boasted sea-power was Brown, and the
other one, although I think he would have hesitated to swear to his
identity at the time, was the unfortunate writer of these chronicles.

There was no doubt about it; we were done.

"At the present rate of progress we shall reach Baghdad in about ten
days," said the driver, "and it's getting worse."

[Illustration: A STREET IN KHADAMAIN]

A few more hours' rain and no power on earth would move the car an inch.
We knew from experience that nothing could be done for four or five
days, so we faced the situation philosophically, shouldered a bag each
and staggered in the sliding mud in the direction of the Khan. We
started off with no illusions as to our fate if we encountered rain, and
were therefore quite prepared for this. There was nothing for it but to
camp out somehow until the sun had been given a chance. The fact that we
had been able to reach this point with the Khan and railway close at
hand was a piece of luck for which we were thankful.

Brown was by far the best exponent of this art of walking in mud while
carrying weight. The driver was quite good at it, having had
considerable practice on similar occasions. I was uncompromisingly bad.
I sat down three or four times to the driver's once. Brown did not sit
down at all, but he did some amazing movements in skidding, reminding
one in a somewhat vague way of the tramp cyclist of the music-hall
stage.

I have often thought since these days of mud in Mesopotamia that a vast
fortune might be made by some one who could find a commercial use for a
substance, as slippery as oil, as indelible in staining properties as
walnut juice, and as adhesive as fish glue. Large quantities of
Mesopotamian mud could be shipped to London and made up into tubes. Then
all that would be necessary would be three distinctive labels. One could
describe it as a wonderful lubricant and cheap substitute for machine
oil. Another could proclaim to the world a new washable distemper. A
third could laud it as a marvellous paste or cement that would adhere to
anything whatsoever.

"The