ADVENTURES WITH A CAMERA IN MAXY LANDS 



91 



You can't ride a 

 high horse or a motor 

 car and get familiar 

 close-ups of common 

 folks. The people of 

 the East are suspi- 

 cious of those camera 

 hunters who stalk 

 their game from the 

 cushions of an auto- 

 mobile. 



CAMERA HUNTING 

 BALUCHISTAN 



IN 



From Quetta to Sibi. 

 in Baluchistan, I rode 

 on the cowcatcher of 

 a locomotive over one 

 of the weirdest scenic 

 routes in the world. 

 A luxurious seat, up- 

 holstered in leather, 

 had been placed on 

 the front of the en- 

 gine for my use, and 

 the station masters 

 whom I encountered 

 were not sure but 

 what I owned the line. 

 At one station I no- 

 ticed a charming little 

 girl, wearing a lemon- 

 colored scarf w i t h 

 that grace w h i c h 

 western women sel- 

 dom attain, because 

 their drapery is ar- 

 ranged by their dress- 



makers and not by 



themselves. But that 



lovely Hindu child up there in the bleak 



regions of Baluchistan was afraid of the 



black box and its Polyphemus eye. 



The station master knew that if I had 

 a private lounge attached to the engine I 

 must be a Lieutenant-Governor or a 

 General at least, and he feared that if his 

 daughter balked he might be subjected to 

 censure. He explained and pleaded, but 

 in vain. He even dragged her toward 

 the camera. 



BUYING A SMILE WITH A TIN BOX 



Xow, the first rule of the photographer 

 should be the Golden Rule ; and, in any 

 case, I had no desire to picture that lovely 



A RELIGIOUS NOVICE IN A FRIENDLY MOOD 



Under the shade of a tree in the Rawalpindi bazaar, this young 

 Hindu neophyte turned from the silent eontemplation of his naked 

 leader, smeared with ashes, to smile into the camera (see p. 97). 



child in tears. I gave her the tin con- 

 tainer from which a reel of film had been 

 taken. She smiled. I gave her some of 

 the chocolate almonds which constituted 

 my lunch. Again she smiled her thanks. 

 She had no dislike for me personally, but 

 she would not let me point the camera at 

 her, for she feared that it might be 

 loaded, even if I didn't know it. 



Then I let her look in at the top and 

 showed her the locomotive and the barren 

 hills and the long-haired Baluchis, with 

 their spinster curls, and the smiling face 

 of her father. If she had been a movie 

 queen, drawing $100 a smile and $1,000 

 a tear, she could not have been more 



