July 27, 191b 
LAND & WATER 
satisfactory that it seemed to induce in the recioients a 
determmation not to leave the goods thev knew and 
liy to evils that they knew not. of. . The display of a 
superb virtuosity of flight by the parent-instructors— 
has any bird such style and finish in flight as the 
swallow?— was evidently meant as an invitation to 
begin. But it had not its designed effect. The six sat 
tight upon their perch of vantage, a glossy, symmetrical 
but reluctant and immobile squadron with "their heads 
well back and their chests well for\vard-^signifving in 
their case not pride but contentment. Flying may be 
excellent they said in effect, but give us flies every time 
And yet when the meal was evidently over and boredom 
began to work, and curiosity, those two gifts of the gods 
which discourage inaction even in the well-fed, the six- 
grew restless. They sat up to their full lengths ; there 
was much preening of feathers and cocking of dear alert 
heads. What about this game of father's and mother's ■' 
It looks dangerous, but then it certainly looks rather 
jolly. And suddenly one of the six is off" into the great 
unknown and flutters, surprised and safe, on to a friendly 
gate post, and then a second on to the ojien casement- 
window and a third, and three more in a bunch. They 
are made free of the fellowship of the air— and are set 
13 
to practise getting their own dinner. 
And this was but two mornings since. Now eight 
instead of two swift arrow-heads flash, dive, poise 
swerve and stnke. The porch is filled with their busy 
chatterings. They venture into the dining-room and 
flutter round and out only half afraid. Our goings and 
comings disturb them not. Even Pavlova, the grey 
Persian— born at the time when the great dancer first 
captured London and called Puff for short, and the 
smoke-coloured beauty of her— Puff who could have 
reached the box tree perch at a bound, always passed 
disdainfully by ^(iving an admirable imitation of a cat 
who was not in the faintest degree interested. Consummate 
little actress ! As a fact she is a keen hunter and accus- 
tomed to lay at her mistress's feet shrews and mice and 
the younger sort of rabbits and rats. One fatal day she 
proudly brought tribute of a robin. Miscalculated "com- 
pliment indeed, for Helena is the foster-mother of all the 
birds of the air. And the dead beak of the Robin, by 
some trick incomprehensible to the slayer, inflicted suiidr'v 
pricks upon her scnsitiva nose to teach her that birds are 
sacred in these precincts. And they are. Otherwise, I 
certainly think there would have been regrettable 
casualties in the flying school. 
On the Edge of the Desert 
By Gerard Shaw 
[.4 new as peel of the vast battlefield is given in this 
vivid article. It is a private letter written from the 
outskirts of the Arabian desert, a few miles from Aden.] 
I AM on guard at -the water tanks again for two 
hours, I get it about once a week or so. Most 
amusing! Six or seven wild-looking, long-haired 
Pathan fellows came to water camels. I had a 
chat v.ith them ; all crowded round, much laughter and 
efforts to explain. I hkc them very much, and always 
can manage to please and interest them, though my 
Hindustani is limited. 
I do love all the things I see here, only vou know that 
I don't always get uninterrupted time when I want it. 
More camels have just come. I am sitting on the 
edge of the tank. One has his nose on each side of me, 
now they have shaken their loose lips, and splashed me 
all over ! Their heads are only about six inches away 
on each side of my elbows ; thev seem huge so close. I 
never yet have met one that bites when one doesn't 
try to make it sit down against its will. 
Now some Arabian camels, and Arabs have come 
Their camels are rather smaller wi4;h smoother coats, and 
have not the same pendulous lips. I don't know which 
are the most quaint. I like them both. 
The other day I rode about seven miles on an Indian 
camel, it was really almost a month ago, I think. Any- 
way It was very comfortable. They take huge strides, 
ahd swing along on great, soft, padded feet through the 
sand. The saddles have two rests, and soft cushions to 
sit on, and^a wooden back like a chair back, which one 
leans on ; there is a rope round its neck to guide it, and 
a string through its nostril to pull if it becomes unruly ! 
Now about thirty more have come to drink. I think I 
had better move. They always shake the water from 
their lips when they have finished, in showers. Horses 
and mules have come now, lots. It really is busy, 
most interesting tou. 
An Arab has just gone up on to the top of the big cistern 
to pray. I can see him against the sky, kneeling, bo.ving, 
touching the ground with his forehead, facing Mecca, 
north almost from here. The sun is getting low, about 
4.30. Prayer time it must be. Some music is playing 
in the distance, weird and wailing, nasal voices "and 
thudding tom-toms. The date palms stand out clear 
and green, /,'^rm against the bluest sky. And a dazzling 
snowy white mosque. Everyone is peering over my 
shoulder to see how I write ; they all write from right to 
left, so I expect it seems odd to them. 
This morning we went out with our guns about six 
miles into the desert, or less., I don't (piitc know. We 
started out at 6.15. It was very still, the sun just rising. 
In the desert there are hummocks of hard sand every- 
where, with little fleshy leaved luxuriant bushes, dark 
green, on them. Everywhere else .is deep, soft, fine sand- 
so fine and soft that all the footprints of the desert animals 
and insects were clearly shown. One could .see what 
they had done in the night. There were the sinuous, un- 
dulating lines of snake tracks, and the lizards, just the 
same except that they have a row of tiny foot-marks on 
each side ; centipedes, a double row of exceedingly small 
close scratches. Then there are even beetle's tracks that 
one could see. Birds', of course, lots. In one place I 
saw a mouse's track meet a serpent's ; where they met 
the sand was scuffled, nothing more. A hidden tragedy 
of the night. 
We went through the court of a great mud-walled 
building which I think must have belonged to a chief 
before the war ; it had mysterious little closed courts, 
and shuttered windov.s high up in the walls where the 
harem had been. Now staff officers and people live there. 
When the battery fires there is great excitement. As a 
rule, almost always in fact, we can't see the enemy, as 
guns should fire from behind a rise of ground to screen 
them from the enemies' batteries. Still, it is interesting 
and exciting, very. I feel just as if I were hunting, and 
the hounds break into full cry ; you know the sort of thrill ! 
Then the camels come running up. We rush upon them, 
and take off their backs the different parts of the gun, 
feverishly put it together. I usually have to take the 
heavy end of the carriage (258 lbs. !") and get it off and 
on to the camel again; also run out with one of the 
aiming posts, and help to dig cover for the gun, if re- 
quired (the sun is fiercely hot, too.) That is not all my 
work, ammunition boxes to bring, two men to each, 150 lbs 
weight. Heavens ! ! Yet I like it, and thrive on it, feel 
far better than ever before since I have been in the Army. 
I like the heat, and the work. 
Well, then, we stand ready, till we get the aiming points 
and things. They begin— bang, bang. The shell 
rumbles and sizzles, a vivid flash shows at the muzzle, 
even in the sunlight ; in a few seconds one sees against the 
distant sky a silent white little puff of smoke that gradu- 
ally dissolves. That's all. Of course sometimes there is a 
cloud which puffs out rather in our direction — a present 
from Constantinople. It bursts with a bang, and looks 
pretty and harmless, but all the same, I hope it won't 
come nearer to us, ever. The Turks here are bad gunners, 
almost always. Often they don't even fire back. 
I have just cleaned and oiled my rifle, now it is tied 
up in its case again, so that the sand shan't get into it. 
I. am living altogether under my date palm now, sleep- 
ing out too, nice and cool, though of course often we are 
out on column, and I have to sleejj on the open sand 
under the stars. There is a hut. grass, but it is too crowded 
and hot. I am very well indeed, so far. 
