"Will the Russians ever take India ?" asked the old fellow of Gerome, as he left the tent.

"You can tell them they shall never get it so long as _we_ can prevent them;" but the next moment the poor Wazir, to Gerome's delight, had measured his length on the ground.

Either the night was very dark, or the whisky very strong; a tent-rope had avenged the taunt levelled at my companion's countrymen.
Early next morning came a message from Prince Kumal, inviting me to visit the caves of Shahr-Rogan, an excavated village of great antiquity, about ten miles from Beila.

I gladly accepted.

The camels were tired; the men of the caravan unwilling to proceed for another day, and time hung heavily on one's hands, with nothing to vary the monotony but an occasional shot at a wood-pigeon (which swarm about Beila), or a game of _ecarte_ (for nuts) with Gerome.
The caves were well worth a visit.