Swinging himself off his horse, Malak returned my salutation with a sulky nod, and swaggered into the tent, signing to his suite to follow his example.

Curtly refusing my offer of refreshment, he called for his pipe-bearer, and, lighting a kalyan, commenced puffing vigorously at some abominably smelling tobacco, which soon rendered the interior of the tent unbearable.

It is, unfortunately, Baluch etiquette to allow a guest to open the conversation.

Malak, well aware of this, maintained a stolid silence, and appeared hugely to enjoy the annoyance and impatience I tried in vain to conceal.

It was not till nearly an hour had elapsed that this amiable visitor at last inquired, in a rude, surly tone, what I wanted.