Black Partridges 3 



of the delta, and business calling me there, we 

 left the Consulate on a bright winter's morning 

 and headed away north-east. The party consisted 

 of three English gentlemen, an English lady (my 

 wife), an escort of Indian cavalry sowars and some 

 mounted Seistani levies such as would be called 

 "catch-em-alive-o's" on India's North- West frontier. 

 The track is over hard-baked mud, with occasional 

 areas of tillage. Villages, with willow-trees look- 

 ing dark in the distance, rise up one by one on the 

 straight horizon, and as we draw closer, are seen 

 to be clusters of low mud domes. Through the 

 narrow evil-smelling alleys we pull up to a walk to 

 avoid riding over swarms of naked children. They 

 are all surprisingly alike, these Seistani hamlets ; 

 the same groups of men sitting in front of the 

 local mosque ; the same scowling, green-turbaned 

 Syeds ; the women veiled in hideous black ; the 

 weavers sitting at their looms under sheltered 

 walls ; the pond of awful looking water with 

 its floating corpse of dog or goat. Through 

 packs of savage pariahs, retriever Don walks 

 with apparent unconcern as a good dog should, 

 bestowing a glance neither to right nor left. We 

 only know by the extra stiffening of his tail what 

 it costs him. For without our threatening whips 

 and the sowars' lances, the howling village curs 

 would soon make an end of him. Outside the 



