eans. The exchange was a welcome one. Slung in
camel panniers, they were jolted along the rough country roads for
three days, arriving in the Afghan capital on the 22nd of August, when
they were generously dined by the chief and his head men.

The quarters in which the party were now housed, together with Lady
Sale and the other survivors of the Cabul massacre, were a paradise
compared to their former lodging. They had a beautiful garden to walk
in, servants to wait upon them, and an abundant supply of food. Their
satisfaction, however, was shortlived. In a few days the prisoners
were hurried off to Bamian, in the hill country to the north-west, and
thence to Kulum. The reason for this move was apparent. Generals
Pollock and Nott had already commenced their victorious advance upon
Cabul, and Akbar Khan resolved to keep his captives as hostages for his
own safety.

To Nicholson and his companions it looked as if their fate was sealed,
but a ray of hope dawned for them. The Afghan officer in charge of
their escort showed himself ready to consider the offer of a bribe. A
bond was eventually drawn up ensuring him a handsome recompense for his
services did he lead them to safety, and in the middle of September
they found themselves once more free.

Late one afternoon the rescue party sent to their aid by General
Pollock met them toiling along the dusty road on the other side of the
Hindu Kush mountains. Within a few hours they were safe inside the
British lines.

Nicholson duly marched with the main army to Cabul, and had the
satisfaction of seeing the Afghan capital suffer the punishment it
justly merited. On the way home, however, he experienced the first
great loss in his life. His youngest brother, Alexander, who had but
recently joined the Company's service, was killed in the desultory
fighting outside the city, and to Nicholson fell the sad duty of
identifying the boy's body as it was found, stripped and mutilated, by
the roadside.

[1] _Life of John Nicholson_.

CHAPTER III.

ONE OF LAWRENCE'S LIEUTENANTS.

The three years that John Nicholson had spent in India had left their
mark upon him. The stripling had grown to man's stature. He was now
full six feet in height, black-haired and dark of eye, and with a grave
manner which the exciting experiences he had passed through had
intensified. Many people found the young officer too cold and austere
for their liking, but the haughty deme