On the evening of May 20th the fast of Ramazàn was over, and a certain number of guns were fired. The next day was a Festival. It was intensely hot, and His Highness held a Reception in the Palace Gardens. Wishing to lay a present before him, for those I ordered from London had not arrived, I painted a portrait of myself, which His Highness was pleased to accept. He sent me some apricots from his own plate by Malek, the favourite Page boy.

In the course of the morning the infant Prince, Mahomed Omer, was brought to the Reception. His Page boys, of whom there were a dozen or more, were dressed in Scotch dress with kilts and white solar helmets. Everyone stood as the little Prince was carried up to the Amîr. This caught my attention at the time, for it was not usual for all to stand when the other two little Princes entered.

When I left I went on to the gardens of the Harem Serai to pay a complimentary visit to the Sultana. Here a tray full of sweetmeats and sugar was laid at my feet, and the Armenian took care it should be conveyed to my house and promptly devoured.

A day or two after the termination of the Fast, I saw my neighbour opposite, the Mirza Abdur Rashid, superintending the packing of some of His Highness’s valuables—diamonds, shawls, and furs, for transport to Kabul. Accordingly, I gave orders at the Hospital to pack up certain of the drugs and instruments; those that I needed. Some were left for the use of the Hindustani who was to remain behind and attend to the sick of the regiments which were to garrison Mazar.

The Armenian then set to work to pack all my household belongings, including the carpets; and he obtained from His Highness the necessary orders for pack-horses, both for my baggage and the Hospital stores.

On the 24th of May I heard cannon firing; on that day the troops marched out of Mazar to camp on the plains, on the first stage to Kabul. I endeavoured to ride to the Hospital to attend the sick, but every road was so crowded with loaded camels, pack-horses, and mules, that there was no way of getting there, and I had to return. The same day the Amîr sent me a beautiful little bay horse to share with the “Steam-engine” pony the labour of carrying me to Kabul.

A fortnight after the troops had marched out on to the plains, the Sultana with the other ladies of the Harem left Mazar. They started soon after daybreak. Their guard consisted not only of a body of the Amîr’s soldiers, but of a regiment of mounted Amazons, some two hundred, the female slaves and servants of the Harem. These rode on men’s saddles, were veiled, and wore on the head, over the veil, solar helmets, or felt hats. Each was armed with a sabre and a carbine. A syce, or groom, was told off to look after each three horses.

Two days afterwards His Highness and the Court, including myself, started on the journey. We saw little or nothing of the Harem and guard, for they kept two days’ march ahead of the main body during the whole journey.

CHAPTER XX.
The Return Journey to Kabul.

It was June 13th when we started. The Armenian and I were up before daybreak superintending the loading up of the medical stores and my own baggage. We hoped to get well on the march before the heat of the day commenced, but the men, from want of practice, were so slow and clumsy in loading the pack-horses, that our start was delayed till nine o’clock. It was then getting very hot.

The first march was short, and soon after midday we reached the camping ground on the plains, some few miles out of Mazar. I had thought my first ride over these plains when I came to Mazar was a hot one; that was in May—this was in June!

I dismounted and stood in the sun while some of the servants commenced unloading the horses, and others attempted to put up my tent. They were Asiatics, in their native climate: I was a Londoner, and I raised my sun helmet every minute or two, hoping to catch a little breeze on my head, but there was not the slightest breath. After standing some time, I began to wonder, in an abstract way, which would give out first—the heart or the nervous system—that is to say, whether it would be a faint or a sun-stroke. The Armenian, seeing my distress, brought me the portable iron chair that the fat Hakim had ruined, but I found one might as well seek rest on the bars of the kitchen grate when a dinner is in process of preparation. I therefore stood up again—suddenly.

“When, oh, when, will they get my tent up?” I asked of my secret soul. Receiving no answer, I begged the Armenian to hurry the men, calling his attention to the fact that I was a European, “very soft man likes flower, and heat is hurt it.” At last the tent was up, and thankfully I staggered into its welcome shade.

“Great Scott!” I gasped, “carry me out.” For the tent, put up on the red-hot plain at midday, felt like a baker’s oven on Good Friday eve. I have never been in a baker’s oven on Good Friday eve, but I know what it is like.

They did not carry me out, but the Armenian brought me a charpoy, also burning hot. I lay quite still on it, simmered gently, and waited for death.

At last, it must have been after several years, I fancy, a wind came: it was a scorching one; there was no “healing in its breath,” and I dried up still more. Then a whirlwind and a pillar of dust came sweeping across the camp, tearing out the tent-pegs and overturning the tents in its course. This roused me, and I crawled to the door of the tent to see if the Amîr’s wigwam had escaped. His Highness was not in a tent, but in a khirgar that had been prepared some days before. It was interlaced with shrubs; and water had been brought, with considerable trouble, in a trench or stream from Mazar. Men outside the khirgar were constantly throwing up the water with wooden shovels on to the leafy covering. The khirgar had escaped the whirlwind.

The Armenian went off to try and get me something to drink or eat, for we had had no breakfast. All that the chief of the Commissariat Department could give him was a small piece of bread. He begged us not to inform His Highness, and promised that everything should be in readiness the next day. After a search, the Armenian discovered that my rascally cook had concealed some mutton in a dirty cloth: this he brought me, with some brown-looking snow water, and a little whiskey from the medical stores. I ate, drank, and was thankful.

At four in the afternoon a piece of ice arrived—the ice is saved from the winter in ice pits—and half an hour afterwards the Amîr sent me some ice pudding, which I devoured rapidly before it all became water. At five came dinner, but then I was at one mind with the Armenian: he said, “My wish is not I eat: very much drink I take it.”

At seven in the evening the troops marched off again, for the Amîr had decided to travel at midnight to escape the heat. There were a great many of us: the Court, the Harem, the army, and the baggage of us all. For some time before, notice had been given to the towns and villages on the route to lay in stores of grain and firewood, and to gather in their flocks from the mountains. There were of us about eight thousand men, ten thousand horses, three thousand camels, and three or four elephants.

When the troops had gone my men commenced loading up the pack-horses again. They took three hours over it, and many of the packs fastened up in the dark slipped and fell after we started: this necessitated a halt each time to reload. I was not in a cheerful state, either of mind or body, for the heat had been too much for me. I had fever rather badly, and was aching in every bone.

It was pitch dark; I could not see my horse’s head nor my own hand held up. Before we got out of the camp on to the road I heard a pack-horse that had broken loose tearing about like a mad thing. We could tell where he was by the clattering of his chain. Once, in the darkness, he rushed close by me. I was convinced he would charge into some one, probably me, because no one could set my leg when it was broken. However, we got on to the road at last: we could tell it by the different ring of the horses’ hoofs.

The baggage slipped and a pack tumbled off so frequently, that at last I had not patience to wait with the baggage men while they loaded up again, and the Armenian and I rode on accompanied by a soldier. I had operated on this man some time before; he therefore politely came two days’ journey with me.

We had not ridden very far when suddenly out of the darkness came the challenge in Pushtu,

“Sû-kè?” “Who goes there?”

It was a sentry with orders to allow no one to pass till the Amîr had gone by!

“When is he going?” I enquired.

“Khuda medanad!” “God knows!” was the answer.

This was cheerful; and I said a great deal in English. There we sat in the dark: we couldn’t go on, for the man would not let us. The annoying part was that his General, who had a tent somewhere near, was that very man who tried to bully me in the Hospital. I said to the Armenian,

“Tell him to report to the fat scoundrel who I am.” The man then shouted to someone whom we could not see to take the report. After some minutes, word was brought back that the General was asleep!

“Wake the devil, then!” I shouted, for I was burning and aching with fever, and we had been waiting already half an hour. They did not dare to, they said. The sentry communed within himself, and presently said that, as I had attended him in a severe illness and had given him good medicine and made him well, he would therefore risk punishment for my sake and let me pass. He hesitated about letting the Armenian and soldier go by too, but finally yielded, on its being explained to him how impossible it was for me to travel alone. I never heard that he was punished.

We rode on again, and on for four hours, and I had to hang on to the pommel of the saddle. At last, after trying to moisten parched lips with a dried-up tongue, I said to the Armenian:—

“Look here! You will have to make some different arrangements from this. I can’t stand it. It is all very well for you fellows: you are as hard as nails and are used to it. I am not.”

“Sir, I very sorry. What I do.”

“I don’t know. You must do something; or else I must appeal to the Amîr.”

I was miserable, and, like a child, struck at the nearest. The Armenian asked if I would lie down and sleep for an hour, for, as far as he could judge, we had come only about half-way. A little further on we saw something darker than the sky, and riding up we made out that it was a hut, a little way off the road. We could hear a trickle of water, and by feeling around found a ditch or irrigation channel, or something of the sort—we couldn’t see what—near the hut. With feverish haste I dismounted, scooped up three or four cupfuls and gulped it down. “Here go the microbes,” I thought. I drank knowingly; who would not? burning with fever, in a tropical heat: but that drink nearly cost me my life. However, the “microbes” lay low for a few days. The Armenian then went off to the hut and hammered at the door. After some time he roused the inmates, and we heard them moving and speaking. Presently the door opened, and a Turkoman, with a lamp in his hand, appeared.

The Armenian told him to light a fire at once and make some tea, as there was a Sirdar of the Court outside with fever. Very soon the tea was brought, and I drank several cupfuls of the hot liquid. Then I took off my spurs and helmet, and lying on the ground by the stream, put my revolver wrapped in a cloak under my head, went off into a heavy sleep.

By-and-bye I heard a cock crow, and dimly saw that the moon had risen. Later on, I was dreamily conscious of a trampling, and trampling, and an incessant neighing. I remember thinking how wearisome it was, that incessant neighing.

Suddenly there was a terrific scream, and I was broad awake in a moment. I found, in the dim light of dawn, that several other people had stopped where we had, and were sleeping. Two of their horses had got loose from their tether ropes, and were reared upright striking at one another.

The Armenian and I were close under them, and he was still sound asleep.

I woke him, and we sprang up. A little way off was the soldier holding our horses. We mounted, while the others tried to separate the screaming and fighting stallions by shouting and throwing sticks and stones at them.

It was four o’clock, and we heard the larks singing overhead. Along the road an incessant stream of baggage-horses was passing, trampling and neighing. We had come a great deal more than half-way, for we did not have far to go before we reached the camp. After half an hour or so my tent and baggage turned up.

It was Gur-i-Mar where we camped: we had travelled slowly in the darkness. The Amîr, riding on horseback, arrived with his guard soon after dawn, but it was hours before the stream of pack-horses and camels and elephants had come in.

I had breakfast as soon as the tent was up: cold mutton, biscuit, and tea, and then lay on the ground with a pillow, and went to sleep again. The fever had disappeared. Towards midday it grew frightfully hot, but I did not suffer so much, for my tent was put up in the early morning over cool ground.

In the afternoon the hot winds blew again, and we had a violent dust storm. We did not have the difficulty in procuring food that we had had the day before, and I received also a fair supply of ice.

While the hot winds blew, the rim of the glass I drank out of, though containing iced water, was quite hot to the lips. I slept a good deal during the day. At one in the morning I was called, and I dressed by the light of a candle. When I got outside I found the men were loading up. We started about three a.m. His Highness, I found, had gone on. It was excessively dark, and the Armenian and I got off the road and lost our way on the plains. We rode on trusting to our horses, but they were as much at fault as we. We wandered about, down in hollows and up on ridges, for the plain here was undulating, like downs. We were in the neighbourhood of the Abadu Pass—the valley of death.

It seemed to me we were getting too far to the left, so we branched to the right. Towards dawn it became very windy and dusty. At four o’clock it became lighter and lighter, and the larks began to sing, and after some trouble we found our way back to the road. To my great relief the sky was cloudy, and the morning comparatively cool. I had tucked a biscuit in the top of my boot, and I munched it with great satisfaction: the Armenian nearly went to sleep on horseback. We camped at Naibabad. Soon after the tents were up it began to rain: it was delicious to hear the water come pattering down.

I found we were not the only ones who had lost their way. At dawn the Amîr himself, with his guard, was found wandering off towards Russia.

That day my demoniacal black pony untied his ropes with his fore foot and teeth, and walked off. He was not found till late in the afternoon, when he was brought in looking a miserable wreck.

The fourth day was windy and comparatively cool. We started at five a.m. His Highness rode in a palanquin at the head of the army, and I rode level some distance to the right. The mountains lay to the right of us, the south, for we were nearing Tash Kurghàn: to the north was the plain, and the dust was frightful. We arrived at Tash Kurghàn at eight. We went very short stages, for when I had come to Mazar with Jan Mahomed Khan, we did the journey from Tash Kurghàn to Mazar in the day.

I sat in the tent of one of the Chamberlains, and the Page boys came and chatted and drank tea with me. They none of them seemed any the worse for the journey. At eleven o’clock I went to my own tent, which was erected on a mound outside the town, near the tent of the British Agent. A good many sick people were brought: some with fever and other illnesses, another with snake bite. The snake had bitten two men, the first one died, but the other recovered. There were a good many surgical cases, too, chiefly from horse kicks: broken legs, internal injuries, and crushed fingers were the commonest. I turned in at eight p.m.

We stayed the whole of the next day at Tash Kurghàn. I was awakened at six in the morning by the bugles, and after breakfast, finding I had a good view of the Khulm Pass, I made a careful sketch. One or two people called upon me, and then, after dressing suitably, I mounted the little bay horse the Amîr had sent me, and rode off to salaam His Highness.

The town seemed very lively and full, compared with what it did when I first came through with Jan Mahomed. Gay-coated Courtiers and Page boys were riding about, and soldiers were marching here and there. The townspeople sat on their walls and stood on their housetops to see the sights.

His Highness was occupying a large house in the town. He was very gracious when I made my bow, but did not look at all well.

While I was there, the chief townsmen brought presents to His Highness. There was a good deal of talking, to which I did not pay much attention, till I noticed that His Highness became angry. Presently, the men who had brought presents were taken outside and thrashed severely. I was somewhat astonished, and possibly looked so, for His Highness turned to me and explained why he had ordered the men to be thrashed. A report had reached him, which he found on enquiry to be true, that these men had extorted gifts from those poorer than themselves, and had laid them before him as their own.

After lunch I asked His Highness if he were feeling quite well. He said no: the sudden alteration in his habits, and the heat of the journey, had upset him. He seemed pleased that I had asked.

I left the Durbar soon after lunch to see a man who had been seriously injured on the march. He had a broken leg: a frightful smash it was: compound and comminuted. While I was on the way there, at three p.m., I noticed an extraordinary darkness or twilight coming over everything. The horses and other animals seemed frightened, and made curious noises. I glanced up and found we had a total eclipse of the sun. This was on June 17th, 1890. Everyone was very alarmed, imagining that the eclipse betokened some serious calamity, either to the King or the Country.

I was up at four the next morning, for the Armenian wanted my breakfast over, so that the tent could be packed as soon as possible. I had some cold meat and bread, which my cook had wrapped in a piece of paper overnight—this kept it from becoming disagreeably dry. Plates, knives, and forks were packed, and, in lieu thereof, I used my pocket-knife and fingers. The baggage was loaded up while I breakfasted: my tent being left till last.

His Highness started at five, and we an hour afterwards. I had no adventures this day worth recounting. We were among the mountains again: winding-paths, ravines and bridges being the predominant features. There were so many thousands on the march together that divers discomforts arose. First, the dust was choking, making the eyes and throat smart. Then “blocks” occurred, and we got jammed in some of the passes. Under these circumstances the horses at once begin kicking and fighting, and you have to look out for your shins. I had to stop by the wayside frequently to bandage up some unfortunate who had become damaged. I carried bandages and one or two splints with me.

We got into a series of valleys, and in one, which was regularly cup-shaped, with precipitous mountains around it, we were jammed for about an hour. It was quite an experience sitting in the dust and heat among the kicking horses. However, there is an end to most things if you wait long enough, and we got out of the valley eventually. At ten a.m. we arrived at the valley of Ghuzniguk, where Ishak fought against the Amîr’s soldiers. His Highness himself, I heard, was not present at the battle: his illness prevented him leaving Kabul. Here we camped.

When I rode into the town I saw the tent of my neighbour, the Mirza Abdur Rashid, already erected, and as my baggage had not yet arrived I dismounted and entered it. It was empty, and I lay on the carpet to rest. A soldier, whom I did not recognize, brought me a pillow, some iced water, and a piece of bread. I thanked him, and when I had eaten and drank I lay down again: he stood and fanned me, whereat I was thankful, till finally I fell asleep. I woke by-and-bye and found the kindly Afghan had departed. I was sitting cross-legged, leaning against the pillow, with a look of pensive melancholy on, when the Mirza and some others entered. After shaking hands we sat down again, and the Mirza said,

“Doctor Sahib bisyar manda shud.” “The Doctor Sahib is very tired.”

I could not admit this before the others, and I broke out into Persian: “Né manda na shudam—gurisna shudam.” “Nay, I am not tired, I am hungry.”

In those days I so rarely would attempt to talk Persian that they laughed; and I had used the colloquial Afghan-Persian gurisna instead of the correct gursina. A tray of cold meat cut up into cubes, and some bread, was brought, and we helped ourselves with our fingers.

In the afternoon the Armenian sent word that my tent was up, and I went off there and slept again for a couple of hours. After that the Armenian suggested my using his tent one day and my own the next, so that a tent could be sent on beforehand and made ready by the time I arrived. Dinner came, as usual, from His Highness’s cook, and I turned in at eight. The Armenian and the servants slept on the ground outside the tent.

The next morning, June 19th, I turned out at three, and had breakfast at four o’clock: it was dawn. Soon after, I was sent for to see a man who had been stung in the night by something or other. What it was I couldn’t quite make out, for the Armenian’s knowledge of English names was limited. He described a creature with many legs attached to a central body. I suggested a “crab.” He said he thought that might be it; on consideration I thought it hardly likely: and centipede and poisonous spider occurred to me. Whatever it were, the patient was in a state of “collapse.” Perspiration stood on his face, he had a weak slow pulse, headache, and burning pains in the limbs. I was about to give medicine and port wine when His Highness came riding by on a trotting camel, followed by his guard on horseback. Seeing a group around a man on the ground, and me in the middle of it, he stopped to enquire what was the matter. They carried the man to him and explained. The Amîr asked a few questions about the symptoms: whether the man’s eyeballs ached, and whether he sweated. When he heard that the skin was acting he turned to me and said:—

“Inshallah, jour méshowad.” “If God will, he will become well.”

He told me he had a native medicine, an excellent remedy for poisonous stings: this he was about to administer: if it were not effectual he would wish me to give European medicine. He gave an order in Persian to one of the attendants, who presently brought him a little inlaid box. His Highness unbuttoned his coat and took a small key which was hanging by a chain round his neck. He opened the box and took out a little egg-shaped casket of gold, and from that a stone. He directed a little of the stone to be scraped off, mixed with water, and laid on the wound. This stone, I was informed, was from the gall bladder of an antelope. Then he rode on, and by-and-bye I followed. The man was to stop at Ghuzniguk that day and be brought on in the evening. I left two or three doses of medicine and some wine, in case they were needed.

That day’s march was pleasant: being among fields of clover and corn, it was refreshing to the eye, and there was very little dust. We camped at eight a.m. There was a cool breeze blowing all day, and I lay in my tent reading Shakespeare and drinking iced-water. The night was cool, and to me it felt almost cold. At midnight, I was called up to see the man who had been stung: they had brought him on. He was certainly better, but had retention, and I passed an instrument. The men looking after him had thought they would be on the safe side, and they gave him all the medicine and wine I had left, in addition to applying His Highness’s remedy.

I went to bed again for two or three hours, and then got up and had breakfast. We started at five. Hitherto, I had been riding the black pony, “Steam-engine,” but this day, as I heard the road was good, and through valleys, I rode the young bay horse His Highness had given me. I found the road was not all valley.

Suddenly, I saw the Armenian pause a second—he was riding a steady old mountain pony—glance up to the road above and put his horse straight up the slope. There was a scramble, a scatter of sparks, as the hoofs struck the rock, and he was up on the road. I saw why, when he was gone, and my turn came. The path ended: rounding off into nothing. There was no room to turn back, nor to dismount; I could not stay where I was, and I put him at rocky slope. The horse looked up: a little touch of the spur, and I grasped his mane with both hands: he reared straight up, gave a spring from his hind legs, and in a moment was on the slope. I lived a long time in the next few seconds, for it flashed into me that, if we ever got up, the crush on the road above would leave no room for us, and we must inevitably slip back. But, no! he scrambled like a cat, and darting into a gap in the stream of baggage-horses, we were safe on the path. I hoped I didn’t look very sickly: I felt so. Presently, we were able to escape from the stream of traffic by riding along a narrow ridge, then we descended a horribly steep slope. This, however, was earthy and stony, not bare rock, and it afforded a firmer foothold: the bay went down sideways, like a crab. In the place where we scrambled up, the rock was rough and somewhat irregular. If it had been smooth, this probably would never have been written.

Then we got on to a wide road in a valley; presently there was another block, and the Armenian turned off the road to the right. I shouted angrily,

“Look here! I am not going along any more of your infernal paths. I would rather sit in a block for an hour: we are not in such a tremendous hurry.”

He called back, “Sir! he is all right here.”

The ground was broken-up by huge cracks, seven or eight yards wide! A man rode out from the crush and looked, then turned his horse back and re-entered the crowded road. Away across the broken-up plain we could see a road running along the foot of a mountain. It was not very crowded, and, after all, we were not on a mountain with only bare rock under foot, so we went for it. Scrambling down the cracks or miniature ravines, some fourteen or fifteen feet deep, we waded, or rather rode, through pools of water, and scrambled up the other side. I don’t know how many we climbed into and out of—but a good many. The Armenian’s horse, though a good mountain-climber, was afraid of water, and he refused and shied, but had to go. When he was plunging the Armenian’s turban tumbled off into a pool, but he fished it out and clapped it on his head again, wet, and cursed his horse in Persian.

At last we got on to the road at the foot of the mountain, and went some distance; but it became excessively stony and rough.

The Armenian said, “He is become worse, you go further.”

We, therefore, branched off to the left from the road, and found ourselves in a marshy valley. In the mountains, on the left, I saw the openings of several caves, and there were waterfalls tumbling down the rocks. This valley was infested with tigers, but there were too many people about, and too much noise for that to be a danger.

Then we got among cornfields again. Where all the other roads led to I don’t know, but we found a great many people riding along here, though we were not badly crowded. I came alongside of the Page boy who used to live next door to me in Mazar, but we lost him again in the crowd. We went on and on through villages, where trees and vegetables were growing—a refreshing sight after a life in Mazar. Further on, the roads apparently converged, for the lanes became more and more crowded and more and more dusty, till I was compelled to tie a handkerchief over my nose and mouth. In one valley seeing a few cows and goats feeding near some huts, we branched off to try and get a drink: the peasants brought some milk in a wooden vessel which the Armenian poured into my cup and handed to me. He preferred drinking whey, of which the peasants had a plentiful supply, for it is a popular drink, but advised me not to drink any as it is apt to disagree. We had as much milk and whey as we wanted for two pice, that is a little more than a farthing.

Finally, we neared the suburbs of the town of Haibuk. The crush became greater and the dust awful. Everyone’s hair, beard, eyebrows, and eyelashes were white. Those who had started as youths in the morning looked grey-haired men, and were hardly recognizable.

The people of the town turned out, and regardless of the dust and the heat of the sun—they were used to it, I suppose—sat on their garden walls to look at us.

I had another scare: it was in the town. As we were going along we saw an elephant in front of us. Horses are generally frightened at elephants, but mine went quietly enough, so long as the elephant was going away from him, and he could see him; but just before we reached the river we passed him. The river is not very wide, perhaps fifteen feet, but it has very steep rocky banks. There was a narrow bridge across, and the Armenian being ahead of me, leading the way, got across at once. Before I reached the bank, a man sitting between the packs of a baggage-horse, got on the bridge and went slowly. My horse having the elephant behind him plunged furiously, and as the elephant advanced, kept shying round, sidling nearer and nearer to the edge of the bank. I could not get on to the bridge, because the fool on his pack-horse blocked it. The Armenian and others, seeing the danger I was in, shouted at the man; he did not hurry: I doubt if he understood. When we had got to the very edge of the bank—only just in time, the bridge was clear, and my horse darted across. The bridge was a narrow affair, about four feet wide, made of trunks of trees and cross-bars, with earth levelled on the top. I could not take my horse on till it was clear, for I knew he would charge the pack-horse, and the best I could hope for then would be a leg broken against one of the mule trunks. I am a mild man, as I said before, but if I had happened to have had a hunting crop in my hand, I would have woke up that somnolent Afghan. The whole business did not occupy a minute, not half a minute; but when a horse is frightened, I need scarcely say he does not look where he is going.

Riding through the town we came to an embankment covered with grass, an aqueduct, along the top of which ran a stream of very clear water. I dismounted, and sat under the shade of the trees by the stream and washed the dust off my head and hands. It was delightfully cool and breezy, and there was an excellent view of the fort, a part of the town, the mountains, and the river down below.

The Armenian went on with the servants to find the place where the “Quartermaster” had given orders for my tent to be pitched. As I sat alone by the stream several people, whom I knew, went by and saluted. After about an hour, one of the servants came back to conduct me to the tent. We descended the embankment, and rode down a lane leading to the river. My tent was in an orchard on the other side. The river was rather wide but shallow, and we forded it on our horses. We got into the orchard by scrambling through a gap in the wall.

I found there were other tents besides mine in the orchard, and some horses were endeavouring to graze. The Armenian ordered the horses out and the other tents to be moved further away.

My tent was put up on a mound about six feet high, and I went in and sat on the carpet. It was stifling after the breezy hill. The trees and high walls of the orchard kept off the breeze without sheltering my tent from the sun. There was no view, except of dusty leaves and brown earth—the grass was withered. I was tired, thirsty, and hungry; there was nothing to drink or eat, and I had no tobacco. I growled at everybody who came within reach; and the ants crawled down my neck and up my sleeve, and black grasshoppers jumped in my face and walked up my back. As soon as the cook arrived, which was some time afterwards, he hurried off to the bazaar. He came back in about half an hour with two teapots full of tea: I gulped down ten or eleven cupfuls, and then made an enjoyable meal off some cold mutton that the cook fished out of the baggage; after that I unearthed a cigar from one of the trunks, and felt more at peace with the world; for the crawling creatures did not sting, though they were disagreeable.

These are the ordinary everyday incidents of a march. As a rule one does not find the opportunity to write them down, and they are forgotten the next day. I, however, happened to write a letter home that evening and I have just copied it.

There was no meat to be obtained in the bazaar, and I gave the Armenian four shillings to buy a sheep; for although my meals came from His Highness’s kitchen, those of the servants and the Armenian did not.

CHAPTER XXI.
The Arrival in Kabul.

We remained in Haibuk for nearly a fortnight, the army being camped on the mountain. I sat all day in the stifling tent drinking iced water and reading Shakespeare. At intervals during the day, sick and injured people were brought and I attended to them. But those wretched “microbes” that I had swallowed in my fever on the plains began to work their wicked will on me, and I became ill.

Four days after we arrived His Highness held a Durbar. After I had seen my patients I mounted the bay and rode through the town to where His Highness was sitting. This was in a rather large garden attached to a house. There were some big trees and a good many flowers in the garden. Among the latter, I remember noticing the “Fleur de Lys,” or French lily. A pond or tank, supplied by an irrigation channel, was in the garden, and near it sat His Highness on a couch covered with silk and cloth of gold. The couch was shaded by a large red and white awning. The Courtiers and Pages stood near, and all around were cornfields. I had taken with me a catalogue of revolvers from a London firm (Colt’s) that His Highness had asked me, with the help of the Armenian, to translate. When he had examined the translation he spoke of the city of Haibuk, and explained how he intended to fortify it, and how the water supply would be ensured. He told me there was a remarkable ancient monument near Haibuk, and some ancient caves of considerable interest. He advised my riding out to see them, as they were not very far from the town. Lunch was brought, and afterwards His Highness gave me a plateful of nectarines as big as peaches.

I rode out the next day with the Armenian and some others, to see the ancient monument.

I found that a small rocky hill, or spur, at the foot of the mountains, had been rounded at the apex into a cupola: the rock all around it being cut away as a sort of trench, or moat, some twenty feet deep and eight or nine feet across. On the top of the rounded cupola was, apparently, a tiny temple, flat-topped, with a doorway on one side flanked by pillars, which, to the best of my recollection, were Greek in style. We got across the trench, or moat, and were able to examine the structure on the top. Apparently, it was cut out of the rock. The doorway was cut inwards for about two feet, and ended in flat rock. Writing from recollection—it was in 1890 I saw it—I should say the “temple” was about seven feet high and five or six feet square at the base. The rounded cupola was, perhaps, thirty feet across. This they told me was called “Rustom’s Throne.”

We then went to see the caves, which were near. They opened on the face of the mountain. The largest—used then as a storehouse for grain—had an entrance level with the ground, and a larger opening some twenty feet higher up. It was, therefore, perfectly light inside. The roof was domed and ornamented in the middle with a huge sunflower, treated decoratively. The same style of decoration was repeated on the walls. The other caves were smaller and dark.

I made sketches of the caves, and of Rustom’s Throne.

The next morning His Highness sent for me to see the Governor of Haibuk, who had been wounded some time before by a bullet through the roof of his mouth and upper jaw. After the removal of pieces of necrosed bone, I suggested that a gold plate should be fitted into the roof of the mouth. His Highness said there was a man in Kabul who had been taught by an English dentist, Mr. O’Meara, how to take the model of the mouth in wax: he could make a suitable plate, and, if necessary, fix on artificial teeth. I was about to retire then, but His Highness invited me to stay and drink tea, and a chair was placed for me near him. He said he should much like to see my sketch-book, as he had heard I had made a drawing of Rustom’s Throne. The Armenian at once galloped off to my tent to fetch it. His Highness was much amused at some of the sketches, particularly of one of the Armenian where he lay on the ground in front of the fire—I had drawn it one evening in Mazar. He said he looked as though he were—to put it mildly—suffering from alcoholic intoxication.

As the Armenian was a Christian, and therefore not forbidden to drink alcohol, this mild joke amused everybody except the Armenian, and the more ashamed and angry he looked, the more they laughed. Of the other sketches His Highness recognized whom they were meant for: but those of Rustom’s Throne, the caves, and the sketch of the Khulm Pass, His Highness admired so exceedingly, that I had to cut them out of the book at once and give them to him. That is the reason I have to describe Rustom’s Throne from memory.

His Highness then showed me a block of very beautiful clear ice, which he said had been obtained from a cavern near Haibuk. He asked me to take the block away and test its purity.

There was another Durbar on July 1st, and by this time the “microbes” had got firm hold of me. I went to the Durbar. His Highness had heard that I was ill, and I told him I had not with me the medicine I wished to take. His Highness asked, Would I take native medicine if he prescribed it? I said I should be most grateful to His Highness if he would honour me so far. His Highness gave some directions to a Hakim, who presently brought a small jar. The Amîr told me it contained a medicine he was himself taking. With a little silver spoon he took some dark-looking confection out of the jar, made a bolus of it, and gave it to me. It tasted hot and very nice. There was no more in the pot, and he sent the Hakim away to make some fresh. It was then that my mind became troubled within me, for I knew the Hakim loved me not.