plaints, Kiftan. Sahib springs up from beneath his red blanket and
administers several resounding cuffs.

Having meted our this summary interpretation of Afghan petty justice,
Kiftan Sahib resumes his blanket, and the old sowar comes and squats
alongside my own rude couch, and endeavors to heal his wounded spirit by
muttering appeals to Allah. His savage groanings render it impossible for
me to go to sleep, and several times I motion him away; but he affects
not to take any notice.

Determined to drive him away, I rise up hastily as though about to attack
him,--a piece of strategy that causes him to scramble off the roof
far quicker than he climbed on. His fit of rage lasts through the night,
finding vent in mutterings that are heard long after his hurried
departure from my vicinity, and in the morning he is seen perched in a
corner of the wall by himself, still angry and unappeased.

The rising sun ushers in May-day with unmistakable indications of his
growing powers, and when he glares fiercely over the walls of our little
orchard retreat, we find it profitable to crouch in the shade. It is
already evident that I am not to be permitted to enter Herat proper, or
see or learn any more of my surroundings than my keepers can help.

Letters are forwarded to the city immediately upon our arrival, and on
the following morning an officer and several soldiers make their
appearance, to receive me from Kiftan Sahib and duly receipt for my
transfer. The officer announces himself as having once been to Bombay,
and proceeds to question me in a mixture of Persian and Hindostani.

Finding me ignorant of the latter language, he openly accuses me of being
a Russian, raising his finger and wagging his head in a deprecatory
manner. He is a simple-minded individual, however, and open to easy
conviction, and moreover inclined to be amiable and courteous. He tells
me that Faramorz Khan is "Wall of the soldiers" and Niab Alookimah Khan
the "dowleh" (civil governor), and after listening to my explanation of
being English and not Russian, he takes upon himself to deliver salaams
from them both.

"Merg Sahib," the political agent of the Boundary Commission, he says is
at Murghab, and "Ridgeway Sahib" at Maimene. Learning that a courier is
to be sent at once to them with letters in regard to myself, I quickly
embrace the opportunity of sending a letter to each by the same
messenger, explaining the situation, and asking Colonel Ridgeway to t