It has not been possible for Nushki to avoid the prosperity which follows in the train of the caravan. At the present moment it is an active but unfortunate settlement. Built at the foot of the hills which bound it on the north and only 2 or 3 miles from the range separating it from Kishingi, the winds from the west, sweeping along the plain to the hills and then eddying back again carrying clouds of dust, catch Nushki both ways. Although very seriously exposed and lying on the edge of the desert which stretches away westwards to the Helmund, there are evidences in the country around of attempts at agriculture. Irrigation is practised and the trickle of water from the Kaisar stream has been augmented by the careful sinking of wells, until the present state of Nushki is in near relation with that which seems to have existed many generations ago. On the top of a low spur of hills which runs south across the valley, where was once a Baluchi fort, now stands an ugly mud-coloured, flat-roofed bungalow, the traveller’s rest-house. The hill on which it is built is very stony and absolutely bare of vegetation. On its southern aspect is a pebbly water-course into which the water, after running close to the bazaar and supplying two cattle-fords, dribbles scantily. The water-course is a favourite place for the disposal of dead camels and donkeys; while the unwholesome little river, the germ-bearer of many maladies, serves to turn three rather primitive waterwheels for the grinding of wheat and barley. In the clay soil along the edges of the stream myriads of tiny mauve irises grow during spring, with here and there scarlet and yellow tulips. The bazaar is somewhat uninteresting, for it has been built by a British officer in uncompromisingly straight lines. Of course it is all made of mud; the roofs are flat and there are no balconies or verandahs because wood is scarce. So also there are no white Hindu temples and shady peepul trees, no domed mosques and stately-arched gateways, no strings of chillies strung across the shop fronts crimsoning in the sun. There is no touch of colour anywhere; even the people seem to be clad in dirty white or dusty indigo-blue.