self, robs with impunity, then the shabanahs were certainly successful; but in the early days of the occupation it was disheartening to have to rely on this sort of irregular gendarmerie.

At one time shabanahs were posted in the trucks of the military supply trains running from Basra to Nasiriyab or Amarah to guard against marauders—until it was discovered that they were apt to push off sacks of barley, sugar, or flour as the trains passed their own villages. They were posted on the river transports, to ward off robbers from the marshes until it became clear that an understanding had been reached by which the marsh Arab would get safely off with his spoil, while the shabanah, by opening fire some time later, would divert suspicion to some perfectly innocent section or village. Little mud forts were erected along the river bank, and manned by shabanahs with orders to fire on any suspiciouslooking strangers; and their habit of levying toll on each and every passer-by was the last of these practices, as it was also the most lucrative, to be discovered by the authorities.

Yet, despite all these tendencies, there was good stuff in the shabanahs. They were finely built men, tough as leather, and extraordinarily cheerful and willing. Once they were placed under British officers whose whole time could

qualities were brought to the fore, while discipline killed off -or perhaps anæsthetised would be the truer word—their bad ones. Thus from the most unpromising material sprang up the very efficient Levy Force of to-day, a force which during the rebellion of last year did remarkably good work, so long as it was under the leadership of its British officers. Even in the early days, however, when the mere prospect of learning to drill was sufficient to make a shabanah bolt in deadly fear of being sent to "Lun'on " a soldier, many cases occurred of fine devotion to duty,-witness that of Hassain Chaoush Sergeant Hassain.

as

I was sitting outside my bungalow one hot sultry evening, lazily watching the river, my eyes fixed on a small black dot which I knew would in a few minutes resolve itself into a slender mashhuf making its way down-stream. Idly I speculated as to what it would contain. It would be full of fish perhaps, caught in the marshes some days ago, and now to be sold to the village Arabs and eaten with great relish in an advanced stage of decomposition; perhaps it was bringing "shelib," 1 to be exchanged for the brightly-coloured cotton stuffs which the Arab women love; or it might be carrying a cargo of melons grown in some small patch of cultivation beside the river. In the rays of the setting

been making efforts to trace a roll of valuable silk, which had been stolen from a small steamer carrying civil merchandise up the river. I felt sure that this must be the missing bale; but how came it to be restored to me in this gruesome fashion, stained with the blood of two of my shabanahs ? This, however, was not the time for conjecture; I sent for the Sub-Assistant Surgeon stationed in the little town, in the hope that it was not too late to save the life of Hassain Chaoush.

An hour later I was sent for. Hassain had recovered consciousness, and repeatedly asked to see me. Everything possible had been done, but the S.A.S. held out no hopes of his recovery. He thought, nevertheless, that the patient's request had better be granted.

Hassain had evidently been awaiting me with feverish anxiety.

"Sahib," he asked excitedly as I entered, "have you got it? Have you got the silk?" "I have," I answered. He drew a long breath, and sank back on the bed. "I will explain it all to you, Sahib," he said.

I tried to persuade him to lie still and rest, to let the explanation wait until the

morrow.

"No, no, I must tell you now," he said, in such evident anxiety that it seemed best to let him talk. Often pausing to struggle for breath, his hoarse

voice sometimes hardly audible, he told his tale.

"Sahib, we had all heard of the lost bale of silk, and your honour gave us all instructions to try to find out who had stolen it. By chance I heard of the thieves, and learned that they were in hiding on an ishan only a short distance into the marshes, waiting for a mahaila1 to pass on her way up-stream, for they hoped to sell the silk to the nokhada. And I planned to go into the marsh and try to capture it from them, that I might bring it back in triumph to lay before your honour; but I said nothing, for I wished to gain that glory for myself and for Ridha, my cousin, who had agreed to accompany me.

"We left our nuqta before dawn; very quietly and stealthily, hardly moving, we approached the ishan. Peering through the reeds, we could just make out the thieves. Three of them there were; two seemed to be sleeping, the third was on guard with his rifle on the only channel leading up to the ishan. Silently, having seen all we needed to see, we made our way back a long distance, and discussed how we could best seize the silk. It seemed impossible: if we went up the channel, however quickly, the man on guard would shoot us; however quietly we crept through the reeds, our movements would be heard; nor could we get near enough to shoot with cer

'The smaller the noise, the greater the danger; let us make a great noise as of buffaloes grazing.'

"So we agreed, and crashed in amongst the reeds, advancing towards the ishan and then retreating a little, but ever drawing nearer and nearer. At last we saw our opportunity, and rushed in. Two of the men we killed; the third escaped, and we troubled not to chase him, for there in the bottom of their mashhuf we found the stolen silk. Hastening back as fast as we might, before the third man could bring others against us, we reached the river, and set out on our way down-stream, O Hakim, to receive your words of praise and honour."

The hoarse hurried voice ceased, and Hassain drank thirstily from the cup I held for him. But he had more to tell, and would not rest until I had heard it all.

"As we went, Ridha unfolded a little of the silk. It was very beautiful, smooth and shining like the soft cheek of a bride, and there were many dhara'as. Ridha fingered it covetously. "By the son of Abi Talib,'

our lives only to give silk such as this, the price of many women, back to the Hakim?' He unfolded more and more. 'It were madness,' he cried, 'to give this up. Is it not ours by right? The Hakim need never know.'

"Shame and dishonour would be ours,"" I said, and would not agree.

Hassan broke off to cough violently. His voice was growing very weak, and I tried again to persuade him to rest.

No, no," he protested. "I have not told all yet. Ridha said, 'Let us keep half then, and restore half to the Hakim.' But I refused, and chided him roughly for his words. Whereupon he grew angry, and snatching at the silk tried to jump from the mashhuf; but I held it fast, and pulled him back. He turned on me, and drew his dagger. O Sahib, Sahib, I cannot breathe

Hassain made one more gasping effort at speech: "Did I well, Hakim?" and fell back dead.

Surely some one, in the Valhalla of brave Arabs, gave him the words of praise he longed so much to hear.

The Bait Mahail and the Bait Sagar had for many years been at feud one with the other, but at last peace was to be made between them. The headmen had asked me to be present at the final ceremony,

and I had agreed, but only on condition that the said ceremony took place at my headquarters. This was a departure from my usual custom of visiting the tribes in their villages; but in the first place,

the marshes in mid-July are not exactly inviting to a European, and in the second place, I was glad of the opportunity of inducing a few of these wild Ma'adan to leave their island fastnesses and see something of the world outside.

I promised the headmen that if they came in to the little town they should be my guests. This must not be interpreted too literally it simply meant that I arranged with an eatinghouse keeper in the bazaar to supply everything they needed in the way of food and drink, keeping an account of what they had, and recognising them by the signed pass which each would produce.

The headmen of the two Baits duly arrived. Only one was missing, and it appeared that he had accompanied the others as far as the river bank; but when it came to boarding the P.S. 4, which I had arranged should pick them up and bring them the twenty odd miles down-stream to the town, his heart failed him, and he hastened back to the marshes. Indeed, the journey seemed to have been a great strain on the courage even of the bolder spirits, who had held to their purpose, for when the P.S. 4 banked in opposite my bungalow, from the expressions on their faces she might have been a floating tumbril, bearing fifteen or twenty of the Ma'adan to the guillotine.

Some weeks earlier I had sent my Arab assistant out to

66

preside at a peace-making between two quarrelsome Baits; and when the next morning the reconciling of the Bait Mahail and the Bait Sagar was at last complete, I was reminded of his report. After three hours' tongues fighting between parties," he wrote, "Rayat al Abbas as tied. Conclusion was fasl1 made, and I fell sick of them and the time was 7.30 P.M."

I too had "fallen sick " of my guests, and had sent them to the huts of the shabanahs, to wait until an upgoing steamboat came to take them back.

Suddenly the sultry peace of the afternoon was broken by loud cries and angry shouting. Louder and fiercer grew the noise, and I went out to see what it was all about. On the river bank, a little way beyond the shabanah lines, a vigorous fight was in progress; the combatants, the headmen of the two Baits between which I had that very morning concluded a solemn peace!

Fortunately they had been forbidden to bring their rifles, which otherwise they would doubtless have used. As it was, they were making good play with sticks and clods of sun-baked earth. With difficulty they were separated by the shabanahs, and with equal difficulty prevented from resuming the battle.

When at length they were divided into two more or less orderly groups, I ordered the casualties to be produced. Each