A Fortnight in N.W. Luristan
We took our leave, and were watched down the path with
not too friendly looks. The red-bearded Duliskani met us
at the lower tents, and walked on ahead with Keram, retracing
yesterday's route along the Kangaveri. Keram was complain-
ing of not having slept: Hajji had roused him at intervals all
through the night to look at brigands in the moonlight on
the opposite hill.
" There were none there, I suppose?" said I.
" There may have been some,", said Keram in his indifferent
way. " They moved into Bala Buzurg yesterday, so that
they would have been ready for us to-day:"''But they were
not doing anything last night."
We found the red-bearded man's camp pitched in the broad
stony bed of the Giza Rud, and were welcomed by the kadkhuda
and a dozen tribesmen or so. They made us an omelette
while we sat and discussed the matter of bronzes: but even
their chief's authority could not persuade them to dig. Like
the men at Sar-i Kashti, they refused to believe that I was a
woman: they preferred to find their own loot in private, and
sell to dealers at their leisure.
As we sat here at lunch two gipsy women passed by.
They looked like Indians, and came with their soft barefoot
walk up from the jungle. They are called " Cauali," and
wander all over this country, treated with friendly contempt
by the Lurs, who number them among the unbelievers, and
say that they will eat pig though they will not touch a cock.
The Lurs complained—rather amusingly—that they are great
thieves.
We parted from the red-bearded uncle with mutual, dis-
appointment, for as he was unable to provide a grave, I
stuck to my fur coat. I gave him a silver pencil nevertheless,
in spite of Keram, who hated to see things wasted on an Itti-
vend, and did his best to intercept it. His spirits rose as we
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