m to wait for me till morning at the ferry over the
Kabul River, fifteen miles distant. I bound my turban over my face,
as is the custom with Pathans when they wish to be incognito, and,
throwing my lungi, or shawl, over all, returned to Zaida. I entered
the mosques one by one, and finally discovered Taib seated with some
Mullahs in one of them. I was still far from the attainment of my
object, as to have made myself known to Taib under such conditions
would, of course, have been fatal; so I betook myself to the chief
of the village above mentioned. He, being in Government service, was
away, but his brother received me, and I told him that I had reason
to believe that Taib Khan was being kept there against his will,
and wished him to call the young man and inquire from him whether he
wished to return to Bannu with me or no.

The chief, who had received me with the greatest good-nature, even
though he had been roused from his sleep for the purpose, acceded to
my request and sent a messenger to have Taib and the other Mullahs
called. Taib was much astonished, and apparently ashamed too, when
he saw me; but when the chief addressed him, saying, "Do you wish
to stop here as a Muhammadan or return with the Padre Sahib?" he at
once replied: "I will go with the Padre Sahib." There was a great
clamour from the Mullahs, on the one hand urging Taib not to leave,
and reviling him when he persisted, and on the other insisting to the
chief that Taib was really a true Muhammadan, and did not want to go,
but the eye of the Padre Sahib had a mesmeric influence on him, and he
should not, as a true Mussulman himself, allow Taib to go away with me.

Both Taib and the chief, however, stood firm, and the chief, turning
to me, said: "Now take him away with you, and look better after him
in the future; but make haste, and do not loiter on the way. I will
see that no one leaves the village for half an hour; after that you
must look out for yourselves."

I thanked him for his courtesy, and Taib and I wasted no time on the
road, and reached the Kabul River at dawn, just as Muhammad Hosein
was about to cross over.

Some years passed, and Taib Khan became one of our valued mission
workers, and I hoped that he was mature and strong enough to stand
any vicissitudes; but often one finds that, while a convert in his
first enthusiasm will suffer much for the Gospel's sake, afterwards
an inordinate idea of his own power and importance grows upon him