"Dirty has it first with you," he told Philip. "'Pon my word, after that drive last night at the back of the chaise, in clouds of dust all the time, you look rather more like a dust-heap than anything else. My word, wasn't I thirsty! That draught of water was a perfect godsend. But, to go back to what I was saying, we ain't, either of us, exactly the sort of people who could walk into Bagdad in broad daylight and escape the attention of the people. Now, are we? Not likely! They'd spot us at once; these ragged remnants of khaki uniform would tell against us promptly." "It's a facer," said Phil; "we've either got to get a change of raiment or we shall have to sneak into Bagdad during the darkness." "When we would probably knock up against sentries at the gates and be promptly captured," said Geoff. "You go and keep a bright look-out whilst I rummage round this place." Humble though the occupants of that cottage may have been, and, indeed, undoubtedly were, the interior of the place was, like the crockery borrowed from it, kept scrupulously clean, and, wending his way from the main apartment into another, which did service as a sleeping-room, Geoff found it much the same--clean and tidy, with nothing distasteful about it. But, like the other contents of the place, which were few and far between, the store of clothing there was even scantier. "Sort of shepherd's cloak and hat to match, with sandals for the feet," said Geoff, as he examined the articles hanging on a wooden peg. "They'd do for Philip; he'd look fine in 'em. What's this? Just the ordinary togs worn by a Turkish peasant--perhaps the very things our friend who owns the hut wears when he goes into Bagdad. Well, as Philip says, it's rather rough to deprive him of them; but then, what else is there to do? And are we to put his feelings and his losses before our own safety?" Without more ado he brought the garments out of the house into the open, and whistled loudly to Philip. Then, for fear lest the owner of the place should return from a different direction and discover them, he crossed the open space, where the fire was still smouldering, and plunged into the trees beyond, where, later on, Philip, returning from the point he had reached, and from which he had been able to view the road beyond and the path taken by the shepherd, joined him. "Put on those," Geoff told him, "and stick your boots into your belt. We'll sit down here and wait till the afternoon is passed, and then take the road for the city. Slip on the cloak and the hat over your ordinary clothes; I'll do the same with these things. They're scanty enough, so that we shan't be too warmly clad, and therefore there is no necessity to discard our own rags, and perhaps run the risk of having our tracks discovered by the shepherd or his dog coming across them."