The Hidden Treasure
what to do with you later," which distressed my Philosopher,
unprepared for so cool a welcome from his own people.
" The young generation have no manners," I almost thought
he was going to say; he was, however, wiser, and said nothing
at all, but squatted under the tent awning and concentrated
his mind on pouring loose tobacco into the little paper tubes
he smoked all day long.
A funeral had taken away our hosts, and no one of any
importance was left of the little tribe. A few retainers and
cattle-men gathered around, while the women came out from
the seclusion of their screens and joined in the general curiosity.
Shah Riza, still looking down at his tobacco, and treating the
topic with the detached manner of diplomacy, explained
that I travelled for pleasure and learning, and that I was one
of the great ones of Baghdad. I had a passport, he added,
and the police had allowed it to pass too, apparently an unusual
distinction. I had letters to carry me anywhere. I wished to
find old cities, and cross the river to Lakistan.
The lady of the tent, still young but with a middle-aged,
disillusioned manner, sat smoking a short clay pipe, and looked
sceptically at the ground. She had a nose tilted prettily under
her turban, and a smile that gave a charming gaiety to her
sulky litde face. She presently undid a corner of her head-
dress and produced tea, tied up there in a knot: she handed it
to the household with one hand while she held her pipe in
the other and began a Kurdish oration, telling Shah Riza, as
far as I could gather, that we were only on sufferance till the
master returned.
This female eloquence appeared to produce a certain uneasi-
ness among the men, inclined to be more tolerant. Her
daughter, a shy and beautiful creature of fourteen, looked at
me with timid friendly smiles. The young man, in his off-
hand manner, made our tea: the ladies retired: the humbler
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