Time was obviously the chief factor to be reckoned with for any hope of ultimate success; I wondered, therefore, whether the car might not be utilised in this dash back to Khwash.

Considering the nature of the ground over which we had marched, it seemed rather a mad idea, but Idu pounced on it.

"The very thing, Sahib," he said excitedly. "You remember how astonished even I was when I first saw it? How much more will it impress Jiand's ignorant men! They will think it a new sort of devil, and it will be more useful than a dozen guns!"

"I believe Idu is right," Landon said. "Why don't you go in the car, whilst I take charge of the army?"

After further details had been discussed, we decided to adopt this plan. The car was still at Robat, about twenty-four miles distant, with Allan in charge. I, therefore, sent a telegram, and also a duplicate message by a sawar on a mari camel, telling Allan to provision the car, bring all the spare tubes and tyres he possessed, and start early the following morning on the track to Saindak, where, at a spot to which the sawar would guide him, about nine miles out of Kacha, Idu and I would meet him on horseback.

Landon, who would be able to use a far more direct route to Khwash than the car could take, was to start with the army—the same old army of seventeen cavalrymen, four trained infantrymen (it will be remembered five had been left in Khwash), sixty-five untrained men, with two mountain guns, two machine-guns, and six hundred camels. He was to endeavour to reach the Raiders' stronghold in seven marches.

Six hundred camels for so small a force would seem out of all proportion. But it must be remembered that transport for provisions, and everything else we should need for at least a full month, was required; that we could not depend on keeping open any sort of lines of communication; and that whenever a Durbar or meeting was held, all those attending it expected to be fed, and well fed. Our very existence depended on an ample supply of food. Further, the presence of so many camels helped to uphold the game of bluff it was still necessary to play, and a distant view of these six hundred camels gave an appearance of numbers out of all proportion to our real fighting strength.

Landon's route would take him by a comparatively short cut, though, even by this—over the western slopes of the Koh-i-taftan—he could not hope to accomplish the march in less than seven days.

Very early in the morning Idu and I rode off on a couple of small ponies provided by the former, and he assured me that it was only a very special breed of pony that could hope to cope with the difficulties of the nine hilly miles lying between us and the meeting-place arranged with Allan and the car.

Idu was fully justified in his criticism of the track we had to follow, for it grew steeper and narrower as we proceeded, until, at last, we were negotiating a mere cleft in the hill, with our elbows almost touching the rocky sides.

Suddenly, my pony, who had probably been deciding that he had had enough of it, stopped dead, quivered all over and—sat down! Idu, who was immediately in front, turned round to see what had happened, and his pony promptly rolled backwards on the top of us.

I got clear as well as I could for laughing, helped Idu—who was very badly shaken—to extricate himself from the ponies, and then, between us, got the ponies out of the crevasse into which they had managed to jam themselves. This took some time, and when we got them up we found the poor beasts so frightened that we had to walk them the greater part of the way.

At eleven o'clock, perspiring from every pore, we reached the rendezvous arranged, and to our great relief found Allan waiting, stolid, imperturbable, reliable as ever, with the car in spick-and-span order. Poor Allan little knew what he was in for. He had, of course, seen nothing of our recent little campaign, as he had remained at Robat during the past few weeks. He was, therefore, quite delighted at the prospect of a little activity.

We gave our ponies to the camel sawars who had acted as guides to Allan, with instructions to take them back to Kacha, so Idu and I took our places, thankful to be in the car once more, and set off on our journey South.

We soon passed through Saindak, and, as the going was not quite as bad on that first day as we had expected, we got farther than we had hoped, reaching a halting place called Jujak, where there was an old ruined sarai (rest-house) and a good spring. Here we slept out in the open, and set off early on the following morning. Idu was greatly impressed with the powers of the car, and began to think it could go anywhere, scale any height, and slip through any opening, however narrow. This was flattering to the Overland, but it led us into future difficulties from which only great good luck extricated us.

We had intended going via Mirjawa, but Idu pointed out that there was a much shorter way through the hills, which, he was quite certain, the car could manage. But we were to prove once more that the longest way round may often be the shortest way home!

The car entered the hills by a gorge which rose steeply to their summits, and, though we had to get out occasionally and push, it really was astonishing how well she took the inclines. But it was when we descended that our troubles began, for, in doing so, we entered another gorge which grew narrower and narrower, till, at last, Allan stopped the car dead, declaring that we could go no farther. And a glance at our route did seem to show that we had manoeuvred ourselves into a hopeless impasse.

Ahead the gorge was too narrow to allow of going on. Behind it was so steep that the car could not back out. On the right we were completely shut in by the high steep sides of the gorge, on the left it looked as impassable; whilst it was quite impossible to turn!

There remained nothing for it but to dig a way out, so we set to work, and, after working till we were wet through, managed somehow to get the car through the wall of earth shutting us in on the left, and out on to the open hill-side.

Idu openly expressed his disgust and disappointment with the car. He had given her credit for being capable of doing anything and going anywhere, and this failure to pass through "the eye of a needle" diminished his respect for her.

There was still no direct way down the hill, and we had perforce to go many miles out of our course, in a long hair-pin loop, to reach anything like decent going. No one who has not attempted to take a car over trackless hills of rough, broken surface, and filled with blind gorges, can have any idea of the difficulties that confronted us here, and during the greater part of our journey to Khwash.

By dint of ceaseless pulling and pushing, and digging the car out again and again, we managed to reach the rendezvous with Landon before nightfall. He marched in a few minutes after we arrived, and was as frankly pleased as astonished to see us. He had just come through another section of those hills himself. He had not, therefore, expected the car would get through, and was wondering how on earth I should ever rejoin him and the army. So we all camped out in the open, grateful for the coolness of the evening, for the heat of the day had been terrific.

Before sunrise on the following morning Landon marched out, and, as soon as we had lost sight of him, Idu, Allan, and myself set off in the car.

I do not propose to give a detailed account of the remainder of our journey. One day was very like another, and the bad surface only differed in quality and degree. The heat was very great by day, and the glare over the sandy wastes and hills almost blinding. Here and there, especially in the Galugan valley, we came across groups of human beings, mostly of a low type of humanity, who bolted in terror at sight of the car.

One evening we halted at a settlement of Rekis, Idu's own tribe, and received a very warm welcome, for one of Idu's wives was amongst his people. The rascal always maintained that he had no interest in women, but, nevertheless, seemed to me to be a very good understudy to the proverbial sailor, for he appeared to have a wife in every village and encampment.

This particular Mrs Idu was delighted at the unexpected reunion with her husband, and did the honours of the camp right royally. Following accepted custom, I, first of all, bought a few sheep from the Jugi-dwellers, and then presented these to them so that they could prepare a feast. Mrs Idu, a very unprepossessing-looking, but highly amiable lady, acted as hostess, and we all squatted round the camp fires while the meat was roasting.

Allan's face was a picture as he watched the tribesmen cook and eat their meat. They hacked chunks of flesh from the dead carcasses of the sheep with the knives they always carried, spitted them on the cleaning rods of their rifles, and roasted them over the fire. These they ate voraciously, as though very hungry, and, as a matter of fact, food in that district is both scarce and monotonous. In any case they devoured the meat whilst it was still nearly raw. Even Idu ate his meat half-cooked, maintaining that it was far more tender in such a state.

Of course, the car was a source of intense interest and excitement. At first the tribesmen were too afraid of it to go anywhere near it, but when they saw it stand quite still at Allan's orders, and that it had no bite, curiosity overcame fear, and, one by one, they crept up and nervously touched it. At this stage Allan sounded the Claxton, and, with shrieks of terror, they all bolted. But Idu, who had come over the mountains in it, and, therefore, had lost all fear of the monster, felt a devil of a fellow, and, with a flourish, assured them it was not the roar inside which made it go, and that it would do no one any harm. So they came back to it once more, and, after some persuasion, were induced to sound the Claxton themselves. Once familiar with it, they laughed like children each time it barked, and I began to wish I had taken the thing off before we started.

After supper Idu prepared my blankets under the shelter of a small bush, but, before turning in, I sat down on the ground for a final smoke, placing the hurricane lamp from the car on the hard smooth earth in front of me.

The light naturally attracted myriads of insects of all sorts, many of which I had never seen before, and which are, I feel sure, unknown in India. Beetles of many sorts swarmed around, both in the air and on the ground, whilst a scorpion, the biggest I have ever seen, darted out from the darkness to inspect the light. He was a brown fellow, not an iridescent blue, like the Burmese variety, though he was quite as big. With his tail curled right over his back, and sting ready to strike, he looked a formidable person, and it was comic to watch the haste with which all the lesser fry scuttled out of his way, and, though he made many attempts to secure his supper, I did not see him succeed, so swift were his intended victims in escaping from their dreaded enemy.

We were, as usual, up in the morning before daybreak, and en route before the rest of the camp was astir. The going that morning proved fairly good, the chief obstacle being huge clumps of a coarse, rank grass, which we had to circumvent.

We had proceeded some distance when Idu, whose eyes seemed able not only to see in the dark, but through hills and fields of crops, suddenly exclaimed, "I can see men in front of us. We had better halt while I go forward and find out whether they are friends or enemies."

We stopped the car, for we were now on the borders of Jiand's territory, and these men might be his followers treating us to an ambush. Idu leapt out, and, advancing under cover with the eel-like movements all these Raiders possess, reconnoitred the position. Obviously all was well, for, shortly afterwards, he sauntered back in the open and told me that it was quite all right. The men he had seen were Rekis, and they were now coming to speak to me.

Soon afterwards fifteen well-armed, powerful-looking men on camels ambled up to us, and I was grateful indeed to know they were friendlies and not Jiand's men.

They, however, kept at a respectful distance from the car, which was still retaining its moral effect, and implored me, as the friend and protector of Idu and of themselves, to go back.

"Jiand is advancing on Khwash, Sahib, with a big lashkar," they said. "He is probably already there, and he will kill you and your followers unless you run away on the devil which has brought you here."

I expressed a hope that their information was wrong, and that, as it was not certain that Jiand was already in Khwash, I still hoped to get there first. I pointed out to them that if we could only get into Khwash we could, with their help, hold it or even bluff Jiand into surrendering without a fight. After a little further persuasion by Idu—who told them what wonders the car could do, and what rewards they would gain—and after considerable talk among themselves they decided to throw in their lot with us.

"We shall want all the help they can give us with the car", Idu whispered to me, "for the ground we have to pass through between here and Khwash is far worse than anything we have crossed yet."

I could imagine nothing worse than the first two days amongst the hills. But Idu knew what he was talking about, as we were to discover during the next twenty-four hours.

At this point I sent one of these men back to try and find Landon and the army. As Idu had sketched out the best route for them to follow he was able to tell him the exact direction in which to go. In the interval I wrote a message to Landon urging him to use his best speed, for it had now developed into a race between Jiand and ourselves, and telling him that I hoped to reach Khwash myself before the following evening.

I of course knew that nearly everything hung upon getting to Khwash first. If Jiand got in with his men, he could hold it as long as he chose against us, and vice versa. It was clear, too, that the holder of Khwash was master of the Sarhad. Moreover, I felt a grave responsibility for the lives of the five Sepoys I had left there, for they would meet with short shrift at Jiand's hands.

The message dispatched, we set off once more, with our new cavalcade in attendance, and had gone some twenty or twenty-five miles when Idu again asked for a halt as he believed he saw men camped in a little nullah straight ahead of us. Were he correct they would be Yarmahommedzais, and so our enemies, for we were now right in the heart of Jiand's territory.

Allan was, therefore, directed to drive the car into the mouth of a nullah close at hand, where the car, and the Rekis with their camels, could be concealed, and where we could fill up our water-bottles and the radiator, from a small stream that trickled through it. The banks of the nullah had been hollowed out by the action of the water, so affording a certain amount of shade, for which we were very grateful after the burning heart of the open sandy plain.

After rest and a drink Idu went out to reconnoitre, and presently returned with a glum face.

"They are Izzat's men," he said. (Izzat, it will be remembered, had been the ringleader in the recent raid into Persia, which had resulted in the capture of so many women and children). "Izzat is a great fighter, and we are in for a scrap."

"How many men has he with him?" I asked.

"About eighteen," Idu replied.

"Only eighteen?" I felt relieved. "Why, then we are about equal in numbers, to say nothing of the car. If they want a fight they shall have it."

Idu looked dubious. "In any case it would mean the loss of many of my tribe, and we shall want them all if we are to hold Khwash. Will the General Sahib permit me to go and see if I can persuade Izzat not to fight?"

Knowing Idu's persuasive qualities I gave a ready consent, but warned him to take no personal risks. With his great knowledge of the country, and of all the Sarhadis with their different peculiarities, he was absolutely indispensable to me, and I have no hesitation in making the admission. Furthermore, I had conceived a very genuine affection for the man, whose utter devotion and loyalty never swerved from the moment he joined me.

"Have no fear, Sahib," he said with a grin. "You know the law of our tribes. It is the one law we never break."

Idu then went forward, and, from safe cover, shouted out to Izzat, explaining who he was, and asking for a safe conduct. This was instantly given.

I have said before in this narrative, and I proved again and again, that whilst the Raiders would break every other law and oath, even when given on the Koran, the one law they never break is that of hospitality. If they promise safe conduct it is absolutely observed in letter and spirit.

Accordingly, Idu went forward boldly, quite certain, according to the code of his enemies, that his life was safe until he returned to his friends.

His conversation with Izzat proved a lengthy one. Izzat was hard to convince. But, at last, and as usual, Idu's wily tongue won the day. When he returned it was to tell me that he had persuaded Izzat and his men to come along with us, if not as friends at any rate not as enemies.

He gave me a rÉsumÉ of the arguments he had used. These were original, even for Idu, with whose methods I was beginning to be familiar. The conversation must have been something as follows:

"What are you doing here, Izzat? Your home is a long way from here."

"I have come to fight the British General, and I am in command of a reconnoitring party to report to Jiand, who is advancing on Khwash."

"Do I understand you?" said Idu. "Do you seriously mean that you have come with the intention of fighting the General Sahib?"

"I do," replied Izzat.

"Then," said Idu scornfully, "all I can tell you is that you will be wiped out in a couple of seconds. If you fight, you will prove yourself a liar. The General Sahib captured you and could have killed you and all your men. Instead he treated you well, gave you back your rifles, large sums of money, and let you go free. Moreover, you swore on the Koran at Kacha that you would never fight against him again, and put your thumb-mark on the agreement. You are a fine kind of Mahommedan to break your oath given on the Koran. Besides, you fool, don't you know that the General Sahib has brought a wonderful devil with him? Come over here and look."

He led Izzat to a spot whence he could see the car.

"Do you see," he went on, "that queer thing there? And do you see that the front part of it is filled with hundreds of little holes? The General Sahib has only to press a button and a hail of bullets will come out of those holes, and you, and all your men, will be killed. He is only waiting till I go back. I have come out to try and save your lives. If I tell him that you are going to fight he will press the button, and there will not be one of you left. Your only hope is to go and fall at his feet and ask him to forgive you."

Izzat was deeply impressed, and, after consultation with his men, told Idu that he would accept his advice. If, therefore, he would go back and beg the Sahib not to destroy them with his motor-car they would follow a few minutes later and surrender!

Allan roared with laughter at Idu's explanation of the radiator, but after a few moments grew serious.

"Do you think it's safe to let them come, sir? They seem a pretty brutal lot; and when they find out that Idu has been spoofing them they may attack us, and cut our throats before we can do them much damage?"

"I know, but we'll hang on to Idu's bluff about the radiator as long as we can. Besides, we are nearly man to man. Remember, the one thing to do is to show no sign of fear or doubt of them. That impresses them more than anything."

So Allan and I remained seated in the shade of the overhanging bank, whilst Izzat and his men came and sat in a circle in front of us. I then proceeded to tell Izzat, in very plain language, what I thought of him.

His mind was still visibly working under the impression Idu had produced, for he appeared quite cowed in his apologies for his conduct.

After a long dressing-down I thought it advisable to make a show of magnanimity, so promised to forgive him on condition that he and his men came along with me, and helped me when I needed assistance with the car. I explained that, though it was a devil, yet the sand sometimes obstructed it and then it needed human help.

Izzat promised anything and everything I asked, even volunteering to fight for me if I wanted him.

This latter promise, however, I utterly discounted. It was not in the least likely that he would fight against his own tribe, and I knew that we should have to be perpetually on the look-out for treachery, especially until Landon and his little force arrived.

But I had got out of Izzat, whilst still uncertain of his fate, the information that Jiand's preparations for the taking of Khwash had been quicker than I had expected; also that he was already on the march in full force, and would surely reach Khwash the following day.

This meant that we had not a moment to lose. I had hoped that by arriving on the following evening I should be in time. But now we must make a dash for it, and, by hook or by crook, arrive by the morning.

Evening was already approaching, but instead of camping for the night as I had intended, and getting by daylight through the hills lying between us and the valley in which Khwash stood, it would now be necessary to negotiate them by night.

Allan looked dubious when I told him of my decision.

"I can't guarantee to get the car through, sir," he said. "Idu says these hills are far worse than the hills near Ladis, and you know what a job we had getting through them by daylight. But I'll do my best."

And if ever a man did his best Allan did his right nobly that night.

A whole series of hills, without any tracks over them, intersected with nullahs, valleys filled with sand-drifts, and marshy tracts, had to be negotiated in the darkness, lighted only by the stars and the car's lamps.

On the lower slopes we got stuck again and again in the narrow steep-sided nullahs, and it took the combined efforts of the Rekis, Izzat's men and a stout rope, always carried on the car, to drag her out. Over and over again it seemed as though we must give up the attempt and wait for daylight. But Allan came of the right stock. He also knew well how vitally important for British prestige throughout the Sarhad it was to be first in Khwash, and so confirm our supremacy there.

So Allan stuck to his job, muttering repeatedly when the difficulties seemed insuperable, "I'm a British bull-dog, sir, and I am not going to be beat."

This expression of Allan's afterwards became a saying amongst our men when any difficulty arose.

But if Allan wasn't beaten the car very nearly was at one point when negotiating the worst bit of ground I have ever passed over in my life—for there was no going round it. The strata here were up-ended, and consisted of alternate layers of shale and quartz. Weathering had done its work more easily on the shale, hence the quartz, which was much thinner than the shale, projected upwards in great dagger-like points in every direction, and over a long distance.

Of course tyres and tubes were cut to ribbons in a few minutes, and, as it would have been futile to replace them, the car was literally dragged over the ground on her rims.

As may be imagined, when we had left this awful bit of ground behind, my poor car was in a pitiable condition. Luckily, Allan had plenty of spare tubes and four fresh tyres. With these adjusted, we started again, but the ground was still so bad that every mile or so we were badly punctured, and tubes had to be replaced or patched. It must be understood, too, that the heat was intense, even at night time. I can safely say that that one night's journey was the very worst I have ever experienced in any part of the world.

We were all utterly exhausted long before daybreak, and, every now and again, despite our desperate anxiety, eyelids closed and heads nodded. As for Allan, sturdy bull-dog though he was, nature was too strong for him.

Just as dawn broke his heavy eyelids closed for a second as he sat at the wheel. But that second proved fatal. The car swerved a fraction from the course we had been following by the light of the lamps, and, in an instant, it was over the edge of the track and firmly embedded in a sandy nullah-bed.

A few minutes later the sun rose over the plain below us, lighting up the walls of Khwash, a bare five miles away.

Allan was in despair at the position of affairs and cursed himself for his momentary relaxation. But the damage had been done, and, as we knew by experience how long it would take to extricate the car, we decided to abandon it and press forward to Khwash with all speed.

I invited myself on to Izzat's own camel, as it looked the most comfortable! Allan was induced to get on to another, and Idu invited himself on to the next best-looking animal.

I ordered Izzat to ride close beside me, for I did not trust him for a moment, more especially since the failure of the car, whose first impression had been so satisfactory. And then, as fast as we could urge the animals, we ambled on towards our "Mecca," with the question ever before us, "shall we be in time or has Jiand forestalled us?"