."

The Colonel perhaps hoped that they might overtake the fugitive,
overpower and secure him before he had gone far; but if so he was
disappointed, for as day followed day, and week succeeded week, no news
came of pursued or pursuers. The matter had been forgotten; the
vacancies had long since been filled; indeed, two whole years had
passed, when one day there walked into Mardan Cantonment a ragged,
rough-bearded, hard-bitten gang of seventeen men, carrying two rifles.
It was the lost legion!

Of those two years' toil and struggle, wounds received and given, a
stark unburied corpse here and there on the mountain-side, days in
ambush and bitter nights of silent anxious watch, they spoke but little.
But their faces beamed with honest pride as their spokesmen simply said:
"The Sahib told us never to show our faces again until we found the
rifles, and here they are. Now, by your Honour's kindness, we will again
enlist and serve the Queen."

* * * * *

On another occasion, during the Afghan War, it was a matter of
considerable importance to ascertain the temper of an important tribe,
whose position and territory threatened the left flank of the lines of
communication not far short of Jellalabad. For this difficult and
dangerous duty Duffadar Faiz Talab of the Guides offered his services,
well knowing the great risks he was likely to incur, though, as the
event proved, he materially underrated them.

Dressed as an ordinary Pathan, with great flowing white garments, a
slatey blue puggery, and with a dagger or two stuck in his cummerband,
he sallied forth one dark night, and laid up not far from camp. This
precaution was taken so that not one of the hundreds of pairs of sharp
eyes in our own camp should see him depart.

Next day he strolled on leisurely, and in the course of the afternoon
arrived at the chief village of the tribe in question. In every Afghan
village there is a rest-house, or _serai_, for strangers, and thither as
a rule towards evening the village gossips also find their way; the
hospitable _hookah_ is passed from mouth to mouth, and in grave Oriental
fashion they set about picking each other's gossip-pockets. "And you,
brave stranger, who are you?" asked a grey-bearded, sharp-eyed old man
of Duffadar Faiz Talab.

"I?" he answered readily; "why, I have just left those dogs of Feringhis
(may God burn them in hell!), where I took service for a short time, so
as to learn th