econd clay my scarlet guard marshal
themselves in front of the bungalow, and Kiftan Sahib and Bottle Green
bid me prepare for departure to Herat. The old khan and the colonel, and
several other horsemen, appear at the gate; the soldiers form themselves
into two files, and between them I trundle from my circumscribed
quarters. The rude ferry-boat is awaiting our coming, and in a few
minutes the khan and the colonel bid me quite an affectionate farewell on
the river-bank, gazing eagerly into my face as though regretful at the
necessity of parting so soon. My escort favor me with the, same lingering
gaze. These people are evidently fascinated by the strange and mysterious
manner of my coming among them; who am I, what am I, and wherefore my
marvellous manner of travelling, are questions that appeal strongly to
their Asiatic imagination, and they are intensely loath to see me
disappear again without having seen more of me and my wonderful iron
horse, and learned more about it.

Several horsemen have already crossed and are awaiting us on the opposite
shore. Kiftan Sahib and another officer with a henna-tinted beard are in
charge of the party taking me back. Besides myself and these two, the
party consists of eleven horsemen; with sundry modifications, their
general appearance, arms, and dress resemble the make-up of a Persian
sowar rather than the regular Afghan soldier. The sun is just setting
behind those western mountains I passed three days ago as we reach the
western shore, the boatmen are unloading the saddles and accoutrements of
our party, and I sit down on the bank and survey the strange scene just
across the river. The steep bluff opposite is occupied by people who
accompanied us to the river. Many of them are seizing this opportune
moment to prostrate themselves toward the Holy City, the geographical
position of which is happily indicated by the setting sun.

Prominent among the worshippers are seen side by side the cerulean figure
of the khan, and the colonel in all the bravery of his military
trappings, his chain armor glistening brightly in the waning sunlight. A
little removed from the crowd, the twelve red-coats are ranged in a row,
performing the same pious ceremony; as their bared heads bob up and down
one after another, the scarlet figures outlined in a row against the
eastern sky are strangely suggestive of a small flock of flamingoes
engaged in fishing.

CHAPTER XI.

UNDER ESCORT TO HERAT.