2O By Mountain, Lake, and Plain 



were when there were ripe pomegranates on the 

 trees and when their zenana folk were turned 

 loose in them. As regards the former, perhaps 

 it is as well to explain that it was not us they 

 mistrusted when placed under the temptation 

 of ripe pomegranates, but the beaters from their 

 own village. A petticoat was, of course, a red 

 flag which had to be studiously avoided. I once 

 only remember an owner, one whose individual 

 permission had perhaps been taken too much 

 for granted, regard us in the light of trespassers. 

 He was a fiery-bearded old Syed, who should 

 have known better. Walking along first with 

 the beaters, he gradually worked himself up, 

 and then for a space of half a mile let loose a 

 torrent of shrill Persian abuse, an art that is 

 thoroughly understood in that country. This 

 reminds me of a memorable occasion when one 

 of a party that was walking in line in a garden, 

 put his foot in a trap primarily intended to 

 catch jackals. This time it was plain, homely 

 English that echoed through the morning air in 

 accents loud and forcible. In easy flow and 

 variety I must admit that it compared badly with 

 the Syed's, but what it lacked in that respect 

 was more than made up for by its vigour, 

 which must have filled the Seistani beaters with 

 admiration. 



