But Notwithstanding The
Comparative Comfort Of Our Quarters Compared With The Filthy Native
Houses Around, I Determined To Get Away As Soon As Possible.
The
mosquitoes were bad enough, but the flies were far worse.
Ceiling,
walls, and floor were black with them. One not only ate them with
one's food, but they inflicted a nasty, poisonous bite. As for the
smells, they were beyond description; but the fact that a dead camel
was slowly decomposing in the immediate vicinity of our dwelling may
have had something to do with this.
With all these drawbacks, I was glad to find the population, although
dirty, decidedly friendly - rather too much so, indeed; for the little
whitewashed room was crowded to overflowing the greater part of the
day with relays of visitors, who apparently looked upon us as a kind
of show got up for their entertainment. Towards sunset a tall, swarthy
fellow, about fifty years old, with sharp, restless eyes and a huge
hook nose, made his appearance at the doorway; and this was the signal
for a general stampede, for my visitor was no other than the head-man
of Sonmiani - Chengiz Khan.
Chengiz was attired in a very dirty white garment, loose and flowing
to the heels, and a pair of gold-embroidered slippers. A small conical
cap of green silk was perched rakishly on the top of his head, from
which fell, below the shoulders, a tumbled mass of thick, coarse,
black hair. The head-man was unarmed, but his followers, five in
number, fairly bristled with daggers and pistols.
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