On the beach the so-called town of Sonmiani--a collection of dilapidated mud huts, over which two or three tattered red and yellow banners flutter in the breeze, and beneath which a small and shallow harbour emits a powerful odour of mud, sewage, and rotten fish.

Every hut is surmounted by a "badgir," or wind-catcher--a queer-looking contrivance, in shape exactly like a prompter's box, used in the summer heats to cool the interior of the dark, stifling huts.

A mob of ragged, wild-looking Baluchis, with long, matted locks and gaudy rags, completes this dreary picture.
Shouts of "Kamoo!" from the crowd brought a tall, good-looking native, clad in white, out of an adjacent hut, who, I was relieved to find, was the interpreter destined to accompany us to Kelat.

The camels and escort were, he said, ready for a start on the morrow, if necessary.
In the mean time there was a bare but clean Government bungalow at our disposal, and in this we were soon settled.

But notwithstanding the comparative comfort of our quarters compared with the filthy native houses around, I determined to get away as soon as possible.