178 



SHA'ABAN THE DRONE. 



lock a drinking gourd and a Ghi-pot, and for 

 more reasons than one he sits apart at the camp- 

 ing ground. Strongly contrasting with him is 

 the ancient .Mekrani Sha'aban, a decrepit giant 

 with the negroid type of countenance, pock- 

 marked, and ugly enough to frighten. He is of 

 the pig-headed, opposed to the soft-hrained, order 

 of old man, hard and opinionated, selfish and un- 

 manageable. He smokes, and must drink water 

 throughout the livelong day. He dispenses the 

 wisdom of a Dogberry, Avhereat all laugh; and 

 much to the disgust of his hearers, he either 

 coughs or snores during the hours of night. Tliis 

 senior will carry nothing but his long greasy gun, 

 gourd, and pipe ; and, despite his grey beard, he 

 is the drone of our party. 



Jemal and Murad Ali are our working men, 

 excellent specimens of the true Baloch, vieux 

 grognards, with a grim sour humour, something 

 like ' wut,' especially when the fair sex and its 

 backslidings are concerned. They have dark 

 frowning faces, wrinkled and rugged as their natal 

 liills, with pads of muscle upon their short fore- 

 arms and sinewy angular calves, remarkable in 

 this land of sheepshanks. Sparing of words, they 

 grunt the shortest answers when addressed; if 

 they speak at all, it is in a roar or a scream : tbey 



