Immediately on re-entering Khwash Colonel Claridge was sent out, with all the men it was possible to spare, in an endeavour to find, and bring back, the strayed remnants of the prisoners' escort. In the meantime a camel messenger was dispatched to Saindak asking the O.C. of the Hazaras to march South to our help at once, and to take a route by which they might, with luck, join up with Colonel Claridge. A messenger was also dispatched to Colonel Dale, then commanding at Kacha, requesting him to send us all the supplies and ammunition he could spare, and personally to do his utmost to expedite the Hazaras, who were also in his immediate sphere of command.

Hardly had Colonel Claridge and his small detachment left Khwash when Jiand, with a large force, took up his position among the low hills about three miles to the North-East of the town, and Shah Sawar, who, as I might have expected, was now in full and open revolt, worried us from the hills to the South-West.

But we were not going to admit yet that we were beaten. Daily we left the camp for the open as a challenge to Jiand to come out of his hills and fight, though it must be confessed that we hoped he would not accept it.

At last, after a good deal of apparent indecision, the two Chiefs made up their minds to attack us, and by night.

I must explain that in order, as far as possible, to deceive the enemy as to our numbers—or rather lack of them—the whole of our newly entrenched camp remained occupied by day; nor did we spare any device likely to give the impression of a larger garrison. But at night the men were withdrawn to a small, strongly fortified sector of the camp, so as to consolidate our strength. One of our Maxims had been placed in this sector, the other on the only tourelle left standing, and trained on the camp.

As we were always expecting a night attack, we were thus well prepared for it when it came. Jiand made his at the North-East and Shah Sawar at the South-West angles of the camp: and when the presence of large numbers of the enemy became apparent round these areas, our men started to shoot wildly, but were quickly steadied, and ordered to hold fire. The whole of our depositions had been made with the object of allowing the enemy, if the attack came by night, actually to enter the camp, and so enable us to deal with them in denser formation.

The outer defences were rushed, and from the temporary pause that occurred it was clear that the enemy was surprised at finding no defence. This was of course the vital moment at which to let them know we were alive.

From my position in the defensive section of the camp I had had a telephone line laid to the tourelle. It was, therefore, possible to order the two Maxims to open simultaneous fire, and, at the same time, a heavy rifle fire right into the heart of those undefended sectors.

The enemy recognised that a night surprise had failed, and were evidently not inclined to continue the fight under conditions so very unfavourable to themselves, so beat a hasty retreat. The night was very dark, and so the results of our fire were not observable. Rumour said that the enemy had suffered heavily in dead and wounded, but they must have removed their casualties as there was nothing to be seen in the morning. The results were all I desired, as we were not attacked again.

Three or four days later we were much elated to learn that a junction had been effected between Colonel Claridge, the remnant of the prisoners' escort, and the three hundred men of the 106th Hazara Pioneers under Major Lang. The same information showed that they were marching together, as quickly as possible, on Khwash, and would probably be in that day. This was good news indeed.

When they did arrive my spirits rose higher still. The Hazaras were a splendid body of men, all spoiling for a fight, and I promptly arranged that they should have it. It will be remembered that the Hazaras are Shiahs, hence their eagerness to blot out as many of the Sunni Sarhadis, per man, as they could manage.

Directly Jiand became aware of their arrival he realised that it would be simply waste of time to remain in the neighbourhood of Khwash. He had now not the slightest hope of capturing it, so withdrew, with all his forces, to the Sar-i-drokan valley, which, it will be remembered, was his Summer haunt. This valley lies parallel with the Kamalabad valley, but on the farther side of the Morpeish Hills, and is bounded on its Northern side by the Sar-i-drokan Range.

It seemed now that there might be a good chance of fighting Jiand with real hope of success, and with the elimination of bluff, upon which it would no longer be of any use to rely.

Could we but defeat him in a square and open fight our past failures would be amply avenged, and British prestige again in the ascendant.

So, with this object in view, messages were sent telling him to look to himself, for we were coming, not only to fight him, but to lift all his herds. Jiand replied with the defiant message that he was quite ready for us, and that he knew how to defend his herds, as well as his men, from all comers.

The Hazaras were given a couple of days' rest after their long, rapid march, and we then set out. The combined force now consisted of the three hundred Hazaras, a squadron of cavalry, two mountain and two machine guns and some Rekis. The remnant of our original force and two machine guns were left in Khwash, under the command of Colonel Claridge.

The British officers with me were Major Sanders (Brigade Major), Major Lang, Captain Moore-Lane, Lieutenant Bream of the Hazaras, Lieutenant English with the guns, and Captain Brownlow in command of the cavalry. We started on a scorching hot day, the 28th of July, with Jiand's herds in the valley of the Sar-i-drokan as objective.

There were two ways of entering this valley, which is about seventy-five miles long, more or less closed at either end by a bottle-neck formation of hills, and protected along the whole length of its sides, as already described, by the precipitous Morpeish and Sar-i-drokan Ranges.

We fully realised that the entry to this valley would, in all probability, be a tough proposition, as the entrances could be easily defended, and would therefore be hard to force. The North-Western gorge, one of the two by which the valley could be entered, was called the Dast-Kird, and was very narrow. Jiand could, therefore, easily hold us in this direction. For, in an attack upon it, cavalry would only be an incumbrance, and, owing to the perpendicular sides of the gorge, and to the curious convexities of the hill-sides which obscured the view from below, the guns would fail in their proper sphere of usefulness.

Yet it would be necessary to enter the valley by that gorge, or by the alternative one at the South-Eastern end, and close to a place called Gusht. But this second gorge was almost as difficult of access, if defended, as that of the Dast-Kird.

It will be well to explain also that here, in the Sarhad, victory is attained more by the number of ramas—herds of goats and sheep—captured than by the number of men killed. It will be seen, therefore, that if we were to claim, and to be accredited with, a victory over Jiand, it became essential to capture the whole, or the greater part, of his herds.

This we well knew would be a difficult matter, but it would have to be done, despite Idu's doubts on the point.

"If you try to go in by the Dast-Kird, Sahib, Jiand will send his herds out by Gusht. If, on the other hand, you try to enter by Gusht, it will probably be fatal. Not only will Jiand send his herds out by the Dast-Kird, but as Gusht stands on the border of Halil Khan's territory he also will doubtless take you on, whilst it will only be a comparatively short distance for Jiand to make his dash through the Dast-Kird and so down to Khwash. While he is attacking the few men you have left in Khwash, you will be left at Gusht with Halil Khan guarding the defile!"

For once Idu had become a croaker, but we were not in the mood to listen to him.

We camped out in the open, but under the lea of the Morpeish Hills, and from out of those hills we knew that hundreds of eyes were watching our every movement.

At this stage I sent for Captain Brownlow and ordered him to march with the cavalry, while it was still light, for several miles in the direction of the Dast-Kird, at the same time making as big a display as he could; but, when night fell, to rejoin us as quickly and noiselessly as possible.

This little piece of strategy will be plain to the reader. When the enemy saw our cavalry, apparently going in the direction of the Dast-Kird, he would conclude that we intended to attack at that point. Jiand would, therefore, concentrate in that direction to defend the pass, and to prepare the ground for battle on the morrow. We, meantime, would be marching with all speed in the opposite direction—towards Gusht.

Accordingly, Captain Brownlow, making a fine show with his cavalry, set out towards the Dast-Kird, and continued in that direction till night-fall. But he went one better than his instructions. He found and collected a quantity of dried-up scrub, and this he set fire to in patches, to give the impression that our whole force was camping there on its way to the Dast-Kird. This done he returned to camp under cover of darkness.

Jiand fell into the trap. Warned by his scouts of what they imagined to be taking place he moved off with his force of something between one thousand and fifteen hundred fighting men, and actually marched all night towards the Dast-Kird. To safeguard his herds he sent them off in the opposite direction, towards Gusht. The position now amounted to this. Jiand's herds, on the farther side of the Morpeish Hills, and ourselves on the near side, were hurrying as fast as we could towards the Gusht defile, whilst Jiand and his men were hastening in the opposite direction—towards Dast-Kird. Thus it was that, by the time Jiand realised the trick that had been played upon him, we had gained a full two marches in the race for the defile.

Gusht—the town mentioned as being just outside the gorge of the same name—belonged to a Raider Chief with a name so difficult to pronounce that I never achieved it, and so was forced to call him "Gushti." The name has stuck to him I believe ever since. This Raider was at the head of about two hundred fighting men, and claimed to be a complete free lance, and to owe allegiance neither to Jiand, Halil Khan, nor anyone else. Gusht boasted a mud fort of some size, and from this stronghold "Gushti" raided at will.

I had been told that "Gushti" was prepared to join any force—as a free lance—if bent on an expedition which appealed to his taste. We were, in consequence, up against the fact that, if Jiand reached Gusht first, "Gushti" would undoubtedly be persuaded to join him. On the other hand, if we were first on the spot, it might be possible to bribe him into throwing in his lot with us.

The distance between Kamalabad, where we had first camped, and Gusht is about sixty miles, and the distance between Kamalabad and Dast-Kird is approximately fifteen miles. It will be understood, then, that while Jiand was marching the fifteen miles between Kamalabad and Dast-Kird we were moving fifteen miles in the opposite direction. When, therefore, he learned the truth as to the position, we were thirty miles ahead of him—a useful start. On learning his error Jiand turned and came hot-foot in pursuit of us along the farther slopes of the hills. And such good progress did he make, despite the difficulties of the ground, that he came very near to overtaking us, though, fortunately, not quite. The prize offered for the race was a big one, the unopposed passage of the Gusht defile, plus the active, or passive, assistance of "Gushti."

On the third day's march we approached, and deployed our force to give it as big a frontage as possible. This was done to impress "Gushti." As usual, we had sent messengers on ahead. These invited "Gushti" to join us, and pointed out the uselessness of opposition as Jiand was hopelessly behind, and promised large rewards if he decided to join us of his own free will.

When we arrived "Gushti" came out to meet us, all smiles and pleasantness, and assured me that he had not the slightest idea of opposing us, but that he would prefer not to fight against his old friend Halil Khan. He undoubtedly held him in wholesome dread. He also warned me that we were in for a big thing if we really meant fighting. Jiand might be behind, but not so very far, for, as usual, news of our proceedings had spread ahead of us. Jiand, he continued, with a very large force, was close on our heels, though on the other side of the range; whilst the Gamshadzais, under Halil Khan, were gathered in large numbers on the Southern slopes of the Safed-koh—about two marches away to the North of the Gusht defile—and were ready to attack us at any moment.

He admitted, however, that we had gained one great advantage, namely an unopposed passage through the defile.

We spent a very short time in Gusht, which boasted a considerable number of mud huts, as well as the fort already mentioned. There were also several karezes, and a fair number of date palms dotted about, which gave a picturesque appearance to the place. In addition, there was a spring which "Gushti" insisted on our seeing, and which was supposed to possess extraordinary qualities.

This spring gushes out of the top of a dome-shaped rock, and close beside it, also in the rock, is a hole called "The Hole of Judgment." If a man has been accused of wrongdoing, and is brought to this hole, a sure test of his innocence or guilt can be obtained. If, on thrusting his hand into the hole, he is able to draw it out again, he is innocent. If he cannot perform the feat he is guilty. This appears to be an unfailing method of obtaining absolution for their sins.

We passed through the defile that evening, though we had already had a long march, for I did not want to risk losing the advantage we had gained. Once through the neck we debouched into comparatively open ground, and, after continuing our march for some three miles, halted and encamped by the side of a fine kareze.

That same night Jiand arrived at a point only five miles distant. We had not, therefore, won the race with much to spare. Later information showed that he had travelled night and day, and was deeply depressed to find that, owing to his initial mistake, we had passed, unopposed, what should have been a formidable barrier.

The next morning we advanced about three miles along the valley, subject to a certain amount of sniping which grew worse as we proceeded. We encamped in a strong position by a spring. We were fully aware that, at any moment, the Yarmahommedzais in front of us might join hands with the Gamshadzais. Their combined forces would then number anything between two thousand to two thousand five hundred men.

We now learned that a large number of the Gamshadzai herds had been sent to a place called Makn-tuk in the Safed-koh hills beyond the Saragan defile. I decided to attack in the direction of Makn-tuk.

Accordingly, at about five o'clock on the following morning, we attacked the Gamshadzais' position by the Saragan defile, but at the outset the opposition proved far greater than we had anticipated, and, though this attack was pushed till eleven o'clock, the main body had then only advanced about half a mile.

I then realised that it would be futile to hope to push on to Makn-tuk, and, much against my will, withdrew the scattered forces, some of which were already engaged far up on the hill-sides. With the help of covering fire from the Maxim and mountain guns, we withdrew with comparatively small loss to our last camping ground.

The Hazaras were very disappointed at this order to retire, for they declared that, had they been allowed to advance, they would, most certainly, have succeeded in knocking out the opposition and winning through to Makn-tuk. But during our passage through that region at a later date these fire-eaters were better able to gauge the extraordinary difficulty of the terrain, and had to admit that it would have been impossible to fight a way through.

In the meantime a body of the enemy had moved down from the hills, and had cut off our only available water supply by capturing the picket-post guarding the spring before mentioned.

This was serious and I immediately rode forward with an escort of about a dozen cavalrymen. But we had not proceeded far when, quite suddenly, a heavy fire was opened on us from the hills. Fortunately no one was hit, but it was a miraculous escape, for the ground around us was literally ploughed up with bullets.

We dismounted, attacked and regained the picket-post. As Brownlow and I entered the sangar I noticed, on the ground at my feet, one of my own cigarette boxes, which had been taken by the Raiders when they captured my kit on its way from Nushki to Robat.

The dozen Sawars were now left to defend the spring, at any cost, and Brownlow and I returned to the main body, meeting on the way the Sarhad-dar, with some of the Rekis, who were coming to our assistance. However, the danger was over for the moment.

The Rekis solemnly assured me that I must be tir-band (immune from fire). They had watched the hail of bullets from the hills spattering around us, and could yet hardly believe we had none of us been hit.

I had already found by experience that it was always wise to take advantage of little superstitious suggestions of this sort, so solemnly replied that it was a well-known fact that I was tir-band!

We had now seen enough of the enemy's ways and methods to realise his inclination to waste a great deal of invaluable ammunition at long ranges. We, therefore, decided upon what seemed a wise course of action. Realising that to attack him in the hills would be too expensive we would remain down in the open, anyhow for a few days, draw his fire, and give him a good opportunity of eating up his limited food supply. We had food for a month, and knew that he had only sufficient to last four or five days.

Accordingly we camped where we were for that night, and on the following morning moved a little farther back towards the Gusht gorge, taking up the position upon which we had camped when first entering the valley.

On that short rearward march we were fired at continuously, first at long range, and then, as the enemy grew bolder, at close quarters. We could distinctly hear them shouting as they came, crouching low amongst the rocks and scrub of the hill-sides. They were humorists, too, these Sarhadis, for, between the shouts, we could catch a very passable imitation of the rat-a-tat-tat noise of our machine guns. They came, at last, near enough to shout at me, directly and personally, calling on me to surrender; promising if I did so to spare my life, and also informing me that it was no good trying to fight any longer as I was practically surrounded, and my retreat cut off. They used the selfsame expressions I had so often used when summoning them to surrender. This was turning the tables with a vengeance! But we quickly saw that their boast as to having cut our retreat was not altogether an idle one. They had, at this stage, actually occupied a little mud fort crowning a small hillock. This hillock lay like an island in the bottom of the valley, and commanded the camping ground we were making for.

The Raiders could be plainly seen shooting at us through the loop-holes, but, unfortunately for them, Lieutenant English promptly trained one of his mountain guns on the fort. The first round fired hit its mark, burst inside, and raised a huge cloud of dust. Its disconcerted occupants promptly bolted, and the way to our camping ground lay open.

Here it was possible to place the whole force in comparative safety, partly owing to the cover afforded by the hillock with the mud fort on its summit, and in a greater measure to the very convex slopes of the hills to the North, which gave us complete shelter from snipers' bullets.

Our only vulnerable point was from behind. If the enemy collected in the low hills running out from the sides of the gorge it would be possible to rush us in the darkness. It was in that direction, accordingly, that we must look out for trouble.

With the idea of guarding against this I asked "Gushti" to supply me with a couple of men who knew the country well, and were able to find their way amongst the hills by night.

I then waited till it was quite dark before sending out two strong pickets, each consisting of fifty men, under the guidance of "Gushti's" men, to occupy two of the low hills which Sanders and I had carefully noted whilst the daylight lasted. These commanded the ground over which the attack would most likely come. We now fully realised that we were in a very tight corner, and that there was nothing to be done but to stay and fight it out.

That night Halil Khan himself arrived with reinforcements from Jalk, and went straight to Jiand and his Yarmahommedzais.

He harangued them on their lack of enterprise in not having already defeated my force and made me a prisoner. He told the tribesmen that they vastly outnumbered my men and suggested that, if Jiand had lost his nerve, they had better serve, for the time being, under his leadership, when they would soon see how to capture the Sahib's forces. The outcome of this forceful personality's action was that Jiand, old and now very weary, consented to waive his leadership in Halil Khan's favour—for the time being.

So sure seems Halil Khan to have been of his ultimate and complete victory over us on the morrow that he actually sent a messenger off, that night, to the Khan of Bampur, telling him that the British General, who had caused so much trouble, was already a captive, and that hundreds of his men had been killed. He also wound up this premature message by inviting the Khan to come and share the loot.

He then left Jiand's camp, taking with him Jiand's men, marched right round our position to our rear, and occupied a long, deep hollow between the two very low hills on which the pickets had been posted, but whose presence was absolutely unsuspected, as they had got there noiselessly in the darkness.

From this hollow an easy advance on our camp could be made, and Halil Khan's intention had been, with the dawn, to rush us, and by sheer weight of numbers, overwhelm us.

But just before dawn one of those insignificant accidents occurred upon which great things so often depend.

As Halil Khan made ready for the attack, which I heard later was timed to take place during the next ten minutes, the rifle of one of his men went off by accident.

I distinctly heard the shot, and have since been told that I rushed out of my tent shouting, "The Lord has delivered them into our hands!"

I am perfectly certain I never said any such thing, though I may have exclaimed, "We've got em!"

In an instant a roar of musketry broke out from the hills on both sides, for the shot had alarmed the pickets, and they were firing down into the hollow from whence the sound had come.

Light was beginning to break, and it was then just sufficient to see by, dimly and uncertainly. In any case I knew I had got my chance.

Instant orders were given that every man in camp should reinforce the pickets.

It soon became apparent that Halil Khan, ignorant that the heights above him were occupied, had committed a grave error. Daylight showed that his force were completely exposed to our fire, and that he could neither advance nor retire without running the gauntlet of it; for this grew hotter and hotter as reinforcements came up.

Halil Khan and his men fought like tigers, but were in an impossible position. We had all the ammunition we required and an easy target. Our own casualties were astonishingly light, but we did not get off scot-free, and Halil Khan was personally responsible for many of our men.

By eleven o'clock the fight was over, and those of the enemy remaining alive got clear as best they could.

Before long news was brought that Halil Khan had been killed, and that his body was still lying in the hollow. Immediate orders were given for it to be brought in, as I feared the Shiah Hazaras might attempt to mutilate it. One of the Hazaras spread the news that he had seen me blow Halil Khan's head off. The Sarhad-dar overheard him, repeated what the Hazara had said, and asked me to go and look at the body, which had now been brought in.

A number of us went and looked at the body, and found that a bullet had pierced his eye and had blown the back of his head off.

One of the Rekis, who had been present at the last Durbar in Khwash, exclaimed, "Sahib, you are a Buzurg (a prophet). You said at the Durbar in Khwash that if ever Halil Khan fought against you again you would blow his head off. And behold, you have done it."

Once again I felt it policy to acquiesce and to admit that I was a prophet. As a fact, I had not fired a single shot during the engagement.

Soon after I had returned to my tent an irate, native officer of the Hazaras craved admission, which was accorded. Without preface he opened bluntly. "Sahib, will you give us Halil Khan's body?"

I asked, "Why? What do you mean to do with it? Do you want to mutilate it?"

He replied, "Sahib, when we lost men the day before yesterday, and buried them before retiring, the Yarmahommedzais, who came down after our departure, dug up the bodies, mutilated them horribly and flung them to the jackals. Therefore, in justice, Halil Khan's body is ours."

"Halil Khan was a brave man as well as a great leader," I replied. "You are going to give him a soldier's funeral. You surely have no wish to treat him in the same terrible way that your men were treated?"

He urged his point of view with such heat that I at last grew angry and asked him by what right he demanded Halil Khan's body, and to answer me as to who had killed him.

"You did, Sahib," he replied, eyeing me curiously.

"Exactly," I said with decision. "Then to whom does the body belong—to you or to me?"

This seemed rather to appeal to him, for he replied with greater calm:

"To you, Sahib, I suppose."

"I suppose so too, and I am going to do what I like with it. Go at once to Gusht, buy a new winding sheet, and we will give Halil Khan a soldier's burial; one befitting his brave deeds and position. Bring in all the mullahs (priests) you can find in Gusht. Oh, and, by the way, you can pay for the winding sheet for wasting so much of my time in argument."

So we accorded Halil Khan a really fine soldier's funeral. Nor was this without results, for we learned, later, that it had made a great and favourable impression throughout the Sarhad.