I could, however, discover no trace of them, although we came from that direction, and must have traversed the supposed site.
After the fatigue and anxiety of the day, I was enjoying a cigar in the bright moonlight, when a messenger from the village arrived in camp.

He had a narrow escape.

Not answering the challenge of the sentry for the second time, the latter was about to fire, when I ran forward and threw up his rifle, which discharged in the air.

A second later, and the man would have been shot, in which case I do not suppose we should ever have seen Quetta.

The message was from Malak, inviting me to a "Zigri," a kind of religious dance, taking place just outside the village.