the first of many.
The men in the marching column 200 yards away became wide awake. The
teal rose hurriedly and flew away, but four remained behind, killed or
wounded. These birds we picked up with a satisfaction which was fully
justified by their excellence that night at dinner.

Another mile or so brought us to the Watelai River, a stream about
thirty yards broad, which flows into the Jandul, and thence into the
Panjkora. Crossing this and climbing the opposite bank, the troops
debouched on to the wide level plateau of Khar, perhaps ten miles across
and sixteen in length. Standing on the high ground, the great dimensions
of the valley were displayed. Looking westward it was possible to see
the hills behind the Panjkora, the sites of the former camps, and
the entrance of the subsidiary valley of the Jandul. In front, at
the further end, an opening in the mountain range showed the pass of
Nawagai. Towering on the left was the great mass of the Koh-i-mohr, or
"Mountain of Peacocks"--a splendid peak, some 8000 feet high, the top of
which is visible from both Peshawar and Malakand. Its name is possibly
a corruption. Arrian calls it Mount Meros. At its base the city of Nysa
stood in former times, and among many others fell before the arms of
Alexander. Its inhabitants, in begging for peace, boasted that they
conducted their government "with constitutional order," and that "ivy,
which did not grow in the rest of India, grew among them." City, ivy,
and constitutional order have alike disappeared. The mountain alone
remains. A little to the northward the Ramlat Pass was distinguishable.
On the right the smooth plain appeared to flow into the hill country,
and a wide bay in the mountains, roughly circular in shape and nearly
twelve miles across, opened out of the valley. The prominent spurs which
ran from the hills formed many dark ravines and deep hollows, as it were
gulfs and inlets of the sea. The entrance was perhaps a mile broad. I
remember that, when I first looked into the valley, the black clouds
of a passing storm hung gloomily over all, and filled it with a hazy
half-light that contrasted with the brilliant sunshine outside. It was
the Watelai, or as we got to call it later--the Mamund Valley.

The Khan of Khar met the general on the farther bank of the river. He
was a tall, fine-looking man with bright eyes, bushy black whiskers and
white teeth, which his frequent smiles displayed. He was richly dressed,
attended b