'Through Persia on a side-saddle' [‎245] (284/360)

TO QUETTA WITH THE BRITISH COMMISSION 24S
desolation and neutral-toned sterility were not attractive,
even to the most enthusiastic traveller. This latter, as
a rule, chooses the rare oases for the subjects of his
paintings, and when he displays stately palms, running
streams, picturesque forts, and domed houses embowered
in orange-trees to his friends at home, they naturally
think that this is Baluchistan.
On April 1st we left the Mashkid Valley, crossing the
river and some low hills, and so got into the Rakshan
Valley, saying good-bye to Persian territory for a consider
able period. It was the first time for weeks that we had
been able to canter our horses, and the soft, gravelly
soil was a delightful change after the region of perpetual
boulders through which we had passed. It was still hot,
and we breakfasted by moonlight at four or five o'clock,
when it was quite chilly, starting off in the dim twilight
before the dawn, the hour called by Persians ' between the
wolf and the lamb,' and arriving at camp about 8 a.m., in
broiling sunshine which scorched me considerably in spite
of my huge pith hat, two gossamer veils, and a cosmetic
for my face. At night again it was quite cold, and the great
changes of temperature made it very hard to avoid chills.
Pleasant as the sand and solidified mud were to canter
over, the water of the Rakshan Valley left much to be
desired, and it was at times so salt that I felt as if I
were bathing in sea-water. I well remember one occasion
when the couple of pools of water at our halting-place
were surrounded with a white efflorescence of brine, and
consequently quite undrinkable. It was a particularly
hot day, not a cloud in the deep blue sky, and we
reached camp very ready for breakfast, but found both
the tea and coffee provided in the mess-tent too nasty