A Walk Of Ten
Minutes Brought Us To A Cleared Space By The River.
In the centre
blazed a huge bonfire, round which, in a semicircle, were squatted
some two or three hundred
Natives, watching the twistings and
contortions of half a dozen grotesque creatures with painted faces,
and long, streaming hair, who, as they turned slowly round and round,
varied the performance with leaps and bounds, alternately groaning,
wailing, and screaming at the top of their voices.
[Illustration: A "ZIGRI" IN GWARJAK]
A horn, a lute, and half a dozen tom-toms accompanied the dance. Some
distance away, and surrounded by his grim-looking guard, sat Malak,
who, though he did not rise to receive me, beckoned me to his side
with more politeness than usual. It was a weird, strange sight. The
repulsive, half-naked figures leaping round the fire, the silent,
awestruck crowd of Baluchis, the wild barbaric music, and pillar of
flame flashing on the dark, sullen face of Malak and his followers,
was not a little impressive, especially as I was in a state of
pleasing uncertainty as to the object of my host's sudden change of
manner, and whether this might not be a little dramatic introduction
to an attack upon our party. This was, however, evidently not my sulky
friend's intention, for, as I rose to go, he actually stood up and
took my hand. "At Gajjar," he said, "you will be able to get all you
want, but take my advice, and get away from here early to-morrow
morning.
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