HILLYARD'S MESSENGER Hillyard turned his back upon the pools of the Khor Galagu at the end of April and wandered slowly down the River Dinder.

From time to time his shikari would lead his camels and camp-servants out on to an open clearing on the high river bank and announce a name still marked upon the maps.

Once there had been a village here, before the Kalifa sent his soldiers and herded the tribes into the towns for his better security.
Now there was no sign anywhere of habitation.

The red boles of the mimosa trees, purple-brown cracked earth, yellow stubble of burnt grass, the skimming of myriads of birds above the tree-tops and shy wild animals gliding noiselessly in the dark of the forest--there was nothing more now.

It seemed that no human foot had ever trodden that region.
Hillyard's holiday was coming to an end, for in a month the rainy season would begin and this great park become a marsh.