It was morning on the plains of Asia. Long-legged herons stood in the shallows of the yellow Jaxartes, bathing their feet in its sluggish flood and warming their bodies in the first rays of the sun. They were silently and uneasily watching a host of armed men drawn out in long battle-lines across the lowlands bordering the southern margin of the stream. Where the armed host stood was a sandy plain, about two miles wide. Beyond this was a low range of sand-hills, which trended away to the southeast, enlarging the plain as they receded from the river. Cutting through hills and plain to join the river-bed was a dry water-course, where, in winters only, a torrent flowed. In it were some stunted…
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