We got some men from the village to go in search of them during the night, and our departure was delayed till noon of the next day, pending their recapture. The animals were brought back none the worse for their mad career over such rough country as that between Kotra and the adjacent hills, but their gear was a good deal damaged, and one saddle was lost. From Kotra we marched to Pír Chhatta, nine miles. The path winds through a jangal of wild caper, mimosa, and salvadora to the Míloh ravine, on the bank of which we found a collection of twelve or fourteen booths of the Kambarání and Syáni Brahoe, who are occupied as camel-drivers between Calát and Shikárpúr. Their dwellings were mere sheds of tamarisk branches covering a loose framework supported on slender poles, and altogether appeared a very inefficient and temporary sort of shelter. I noticed that the women, though equally exposed to the weather, were much fairer and comelier than the men. Their dress was as rough and simple as their dwellings. A long loose shift of coarse cotton, with loose sleeves, was the only dress of some of the women; one or two of them wore besides a small sheet or mantle thrown loosely over the head and shoulders. The men wore capacious cotton trousers, gathered in at the ankle, and over these a short shirt with wide sleeves; round the head were wound a few folds of a twisted turban. Grazing about their settlement were a number of pretty little goats, the smallest I ever saw, hardly twenty inches high. After following the dry pebbly bed of the ravine for a little way in a southerly direction, we turned out of it to the right at a conspicuous dome over the grave of Mír Iltaf, the uncle of the present Mír of Kotra. By it flows a brisk stream, which, on its way to Kotra, turns three or four water-mills, the sites of which are marked by clumps of date-palm, jujube, and pipal trees. From this point we turned towards the hill range, along which we had been travelling in a parallel course from Gandáva. They wear a wild, dreary, and inhospitable look, and the country at their skirt is rugged, and mostly bare of vegetation. At about four miles from the tomb, crossing two or three ridges of conglomerate rock, and the little stream winding between and round them _en route_, we came to the palm grove of Pír Chhatta, and camped on an open turfy spot amongst the trees, and near the spring-head of the stream above mentioned. The soil here is a powdery clay, white with efflorescent salines, and even the turf is stiff with white encrustations of soda salts. At the spring-head is a hermit’s cell, and close by, suspended on the boughs of a tree, is a peal of about thirty small bells, which the _faqír_ rattles every now and then to wake up the mountain echoes.