At sunset the mules, with loud clashing of bells, are driven into the yard from pasture, and tethered till one or two in the morning, when a start is made, and sleep is out of the question.

In the interim, singing, talking, story-telling, occasionally quarrelling and fighting, go on all round the yard till nearly midnight.

Tired out with the stiff climb, I fell into a delicious slumber, notwithstanding the noise, about nine o'clock, to be awakened shortly after by a soft, cold substance falling heavily, with a splash, upon my face.

Striking a match, I discovered a large bat which the smoke from our fire (there was no chimney) had evidently detached from the rafters.
I purchased, the next morning before starting, a Persian dagger belonging to one of the caravan-men.

He was one of the Bakhtiari, a wild and lawless tribe inhabiting a tract of country (as yet unexplored by Europeans) on the borders of Persia and Asia Minor.