Barzan is rather larger than an average Kurdish village, but boasts no distinguishing feature to suggest its importance in the land. Most of even the less powerful chiefs are housed in defensible "castles"; but the Sheikh of Barzan "dwells among his own people," and his palace is just an agglomeration of several ordinary houses joined in one. It possesses no outer door at all (or none that we have ever discovered), and we entered it by the simple process of stepping on to the roof, and walking across to the summer reception room, a rude _belvedere_ on the farther side. The Sheikh, it appeared, was absent. He had gone on a visit to Amadia, and was expected back the day after to-morrow; but as we were journeying westward we should certainly meet him next day. Meanwhile we were made warmly welcome by his old major-domo the Imaum[81] (an old friend of some of our party), by his young mollah or domestic chaplain, and by several truculent-looking _duinhewassels_ who formed part of his regular following. We could not, of course, be allowed to pass by the house without eating; but we specially begged of our hosts that (as we were anxious to push forward) they would only give us such food as they could quickly and easily prepare. And we hold it a genuine proof of their friendliness that they actually did as we asked them, bringing eggs, bread, honey, and tea. A big man, who wishes to do you honour formally, would consent to no such curtailment. He would probably keep you waiting for hours while he killed and dressed a sheep. When we arose to depart the imaum and mollah went with us to a certain tree beyond the village in order to "pour us on our road." All important houses in these parts have some recognized point on the approach to them, whither the owner proceeds to welcome and dismiss his guests. It is recorded that on one occasion only (in order to meet the British Consul) the Sheikh rode out in person as far as this statutory tree. Our hosts had provided us with an armed escort--a "Boy of the Belt" in a red turban, indicating that he belonged to the Sheikh's personal body-guard. And under his guidance we proceeded for a day and a half up the valley, a journey somewhat comparable to the progress of a beetle across the ridges and furrows of a ploughed field. The hills are too stony for cultivation; but here and there a fan of good soil has spread itself out from the mouth of one of the gullies, and has been terraced into grain plots by the inhabitants of the village hard by. These villages (judged by local standards) may be called fairly prosperous-looking, for the Sheikh is a merciful over-lord: but the "roads" are consistently villainous; the "Far Cry" was an asset at Lochow!