and mountains appeared inverted, like those in a mirage, and the nearer hills and mountains seemed to hang between earth and heaven. . . . From time to time, between the water and the sky, something ruddy appeared, like the rosy dawn, and then vanished again, and so went on shifting till we came near; and then we discovered that it was due to immense flocks of wild geese [flamingoes, perhaps], not ten or twenty thousand, but simply innumerable and beyond counting. There were not wild geese alone, but endless flocks of every kind of bird settled on the shores of this lake, and the eggs of countless multitudes of fowl were laid in every cranny.'
On his return to Kábul, he found a budget of news. His brother Násir, who ought to have followed him to the Indus, had been tempted, by a rising against the Uzbegs in Badakhshán, to desert his elder and to cross by the Shibertú pass to try his fortune in a kingdom of his own. Shaibáni was then absent in Khuwárizm, and Khusrau Sháh had also seized the opportunity to make an attempt to recover his lost dominions. He had failed and been taken prisoner, and his head was struck off and sent to the Uzbeg chief. The incident touched Bábar nearly, because as soon as Khusrau's advance was known his old followers began to leave Kabul and rejoin their former master, as he had foretold that they would; but as soon as his death was announced, they came back—'the spirit of discontent was quenched, as when water is thrown on fire.' It was necessary, however, to keep the troops busy, and Bábar found them occupation in the temporary conquest of Khilát-i-Ghilzái, the strong
