Fourteen men are now gathered round the fire. There is a marked silence in the assembly, and Shah Sevar looks serious. At length he asks, "Is everything ready?" "Yes," is the reply from all sides. "Are the powder and shot horns filled?" "Yes." "And the provisions packed in their bags?" "Yes--dates, sour cheese, and bread for eight days." "I told you the day before yesterday that this time we shall strike at Bam. Bam is a populous town. If we are discovered too early the fight may be hot. We must steal through the desert like jackals. The distance is three hundred miles, four days' journey." Again Shah Sevar stares into the fire for a while and then asks, "Are the _jambas_ in good condition?" "Yes." "And ten spare dromedaries for the booty?" "Yes." [Illustration: PLATE VII. A BALUCHI NOMAD TENT.] Then he rises and all the others follow his example. Their wild, bold faces glow coppery-red in the light of the fire. They consider petty thieving a base occupation, but raiding and pillaging an honourable sport, and boast of the number of slaves they have captured in their day. "Mount," commands the chieftain in a subdued voice. Muskets are thrown over the shoulder and rattle against the hanging powder-horn and the leather bag for bullets, flint, steel, and tinder. Daggers are thrust into belts, and the men mount without examining the saddle-girths and bridles, for all has been carefully made ready beforehand. The spear is secured in front of the saddle. "In the name of Allah," calls out Shah Sevar, and the party rides off through the night at a steady pace. The path they follow is well known and the stars serve as guides. Day breaks, the sun rises, and the shadows of the dromedaries point towards Bam over the hard yellow sand where not a shrub grows. Not a word has been spoken during the night, but when the first seventy miles have been traversed the chief says, "We will rest a while at the Spring of White Water." On arriving at the spring they refill their water-skins and let the dromedaries drink. Then they go up into the neighbouring hills and wait till the hot hours of the day are over. They never encamp at the springs, for there they are likely to meet with other people. At dusk they are in the saddle again. They ride harder than during the first night and travel till they come to a salt spring. The third night the dromedaries begin to breathe more heavily, and when the sun rises flecks of white froth hang from their trembling lips. They are not tired but only a little winded, and they press on through clouds of dust without their riders having to urge them.