of his black tent, which is supported by tamarisk boughs (Plate
VII.). The tale-teller has just finished a story, when two white-clad
men with white turbans on their heads emerge from the darkness of the
night. They tie up their dromedaries, humbly salute Shah Sevar, who
invites them to sit down and help themselves to tea from an iron pot.
Other men come up to the fire. All carry long guns, spears, swords, and
daggers. Some lead two or three dromedaries each.

Fourteen men are now gathered round the fire. There is a marked silence
in the assembly, and Shah Sevar looks serious. At length he asks, "Is
everything ready?"

"Yes," is the reply from all sides.

"Are the powder and shot horns filled?"

"Yes."

"And the provisions packed in their bags?"

"Yes--dates, sour cheese, and bread for eight days."

"I told you the day before yesterday that this time we shall strike at
Bam. Bam is a populous town. If we are discovered too early the fight
may be hot. We must steal through the desert like jackals. The distance
is three hundred miles, four days' journey."

Again Shah Sevar stares into the fire for a while and then asks, "Are
the _jambas_ in good condition?"

"Yes."

"And ten spare dromedaries for the booty?"

"Yes."

[Illustration: PLATE VII. A BALUCHI NOMAD TENT.]

Then he rises and all the others follow his example. Their wild, bold
faces glow coppery-red in the light of the fire. They consider petty
thieving a base occupation, but raiding and pillaging an honourable
sport, and boast of the number of slaves they have captured in their
day.

"Mount," commands the chieftain in a subdued voice. Muskets are thrown
over the shoulder and rattle against the hanging powder-horn and the
leather bag for bullets, flint, steel, and tinder. Daggers are thrust
into belts, and the men mount without examining the saddle-girths and
bridles, for all has been carefully made ready beforehand. The spear is
secured in front of the saddle. "In the name of Allah," calls out Shah
Sevar, and the party rides off through the night at a steady pace.

The path they follow is well known and the stars serve as guides. Day
breaks, the sun rises, and the shadows of the dromedaries point towards
Bam over the hard yellow sand where not a shrub grows. Not a word has
been spoken during the night, but when the first seventy miles have been
traversed the chief says, "We will rest a while at the Spring of White
Water." On arriving at the sp