fainted. The lad's spirit-he knew the punishment was just -was grand, and made his comrades as proud of, as they were sorry for, him. So much for the physical side; the moral pain was not so easily borne. If a century ago the ratio of the moral to the physical was as three to one, according to the greatest of our captains, surely in these later days of ultra-civilisation, when nerves predominate, the ratio is more unequal. No wonder that the shame of the flogging, that he had been convicted of dereliction of duty and branded before the whole battalion, burnt into his being and ate into his soul. No wonder that it was a changed creature who, after a few days, rejoined the ranks for duty. He never laughed, he rarely spoke, and, keeping clear of his companions, went about his duty with a set purposefulness that indicated fire underground, or a broken spirit.

Then came the concentration at the foothills, and shortly afterwards the action of the 18th October, when we took the enemy fore and aft, and flung them off Dargai, only, however, to break the most elementary principles of mountain warfare and present them with the position in the evening. The object of that fight, which cost us several lives, had presumably been to safeguard the passing of the Chagru Kotal, as the Dargai ridge commanded it at long range; hence the common soldier-man was slow to grasp the working

of the brain that took the key quietly to surrender it. The 19th October was naturally employed by the enemy in erecting sangars and fortifying the approaches to the ridge against the next attack; so the leading brigade to reach the Kotal on the 20th found on its flank a much more formidable position than anticipated.

To leave the enemy there, playing at long bowls with a helpless transport filing down to the Khanki valley, spelt trouble. No, they must again be dislodged and the ridge piqueted, so the advanced brigade was ordered to get possession of it, while the long waving thread of moving men and animals, stretching away back into camp, halted where they found themselves on the mountain track. Now on this morning, somewhat historic in the annals of Indian border fighting by reason of the lessons learned and sacrifice of lives, Ratan Sing's battalion was with its brigade in rear; but he with the selected scouts of his battalion, having picked acquaintance with the ground in the fighting of the 18th, were lent to and leading the advanced brigade. happened that he was in the leading section of the leading company that moved off the Kotal that day, to proceed up the spur connecting_it directly with the ridge. For some twelve furlongs, up to an excrescence on the spur, the ground was comparatively wide and cover from the ridge above was easily obtainable.

But

The

once this bluff or eminence was passed the spur narrowed to a few yards, dropping in sheer precipice on either side, and for some distance was as bare as a sheet of paper, open, and well within decisive range of the ridge itself. The very narrowness made it impossible for other than a thin stream of men to cross it at a time; and on it the concentrated fire of the hidden foe above could with nicety be poured. leading section, rising over the bluff, doubled across the danger zone into cover under rocks on the far side; but coming under a somewhat wild and spluttering fire from the enemy, who were scarcely ready, it suffered little. Both Orakzai and Afridi were, however, now prepared with every rifle at "the present," pointing through a loophole, and the sections which next rushed forward over the fatal zone came under such a cataclysm of bullets that few escaped unscathed. Rush after rush, most gallant of endeavour, melted away; and as the day wore on the narrow bridge became cumbered with the dead and dying.

Ratan Sing, from the cover of those rocks beyond, watched the first two of those gallant efforts, and how the slightest movement of a wounded man called forth upon him a shower of bullets. And then, during the lul in the firing, he was seen to double out from cover back to where one of the wounded of his battalion lay, and to attempt to lift himonly, however, to fall beside him, grievously hit in several

places. His movement into the open had been instantly greeted with a regular fusilade of independent rifle fire, and the strange thing is that he should not have fallen sooner. It was so impossible to bring in a wounded man from this certain death-trap that his action seemed almost that of a lunatic, mere suicide; and because of the tragedy at Doaba, some were inclined to think that he purposely threw away his life. The colonel, however, did not dismiss the deed so easily, and, knowing that together with disregard of danger he possessed that supreme contempt of the enemy common to his kin, credited him only with a brave attempt to save a comrade's life. And he said that if the man survived he was to be recommended for the order of merit, which was then the Victoria Cross of the Indian army.

Throughout the day the ding-dong struggle continued, without sufficient reinforcements crossing to enable the ridge to be carried with the bayonet; and it was not till late afternoon that the concentrated effort of several regiments made this possible. Then the dead and wounded were gathered in, and Ratan Sing, unable to move, was carried down by a stalwart Gordon Highlander to the field ambulance that lay at Mamua Khan's village on the Kotal. In his little khaki shorts he looked, as he lay on the back of his tall bearer, more like a boy scout of the present day than aught else; and, indeed, he was not much

more. He spoke little during the first long night of pain, for the shock of a bullet through his stomach left him dazed; but he seemed worried about the loss of his rifle, which had not been brought down with him, and disappointed that he had not succeeded in saving Lalbir's life. As the wounded had to be evacuated to the rear as soon as possible, he was carried back the following day to Shinawri in a doolie, a dying man; but as the hours went on he regained his cheerfulness, and his company officer, who had also been sent back wounded, found him full of spirits and bravely talking of recovery. When praised for his gallantry and told that he was to be recommended for the “bahaduri," a flush of pride and pleasure momentarily coloured his dark face and neck, and it was not difficult to imagine what was passing through his mind. Was he in great pain? No; he had been shot through the arm, calf, and stomach; the leg hurt most, but it was nothing, and he would soon be well enough to rejoin the battalion. And then, with a gleam of his old spirit, "it took quite a lot of 'shaitans' to hit me, sahib, although I am too small." Had he killed any Pathans? Yes, he had shot one when the battalion was marching up from Pat Darband to the relief of the Samana; he saw him fall backwards and roll down the Khud just like a badly wounded

gooral. He had climbed down. after him and set fire to his pyjamas, according to the instructions of his uncle, which was the only way to disappoint a Pathan of paradise. But on the 20th all was different; the enemy on the ridge were afraid to show themselves, and he never had a shot at one. Why didn't the Gagra pultan1 come up earlier in the day to help us? He had been told they were

the brothers of the Gurkhas. But talking was an effort, and his voice grew weaker, so that he was best alone. The doctor, on being asked, refused the lad a chance of life, as peritonitis must set in; but all the same he lived for two days longer, always cheery, and always insisting that he would recover. His death on a hospital bed at Shinawri was no less gallant when it came than if he had given up his life on the 20th in the hurly-burly of a doubtful action.

Such was the brief military history of Rifleman Ratan Sing Gurung, into whose life were crowded in a short space two great tragedies. But although he gained little here below, his soul, where'er it be, must surely take comfort in the knowledge that his gallantry in action rests in its niche in the history of the regiment, and is told of with pride to all recruits who follow him from Nepal to join the beloved battalion whose uniform he wore for less than fourteen months.

DOWHILL.

Yakoob Khan and his two brothers were the sole survivors of the thirty inhabitants of the village of Kadail. For many years a bitter feud had been carried on between Kadail and Torari, two villages bordering on the great white "Sirkari" Road which runs up into the barren hills of the North-West Frontier of India.

Now, according to the bloodfeud law of that land, the "Sirkari" Road is sacred. You may invite your enemy to a feast, and if he be fool enough to come you may drive a knife into his back while he enjoys your hospitality; you may creep into his house by night and slay him in his bed; any cunning underhand trick by which you may catch him unawares is permissible; but the law strictly forbids the slaying of your enemy if he be on the "Road." The great white Road is sanctuary, and many a man owes his life to it. Awkward questions might be asked should it become known that a murder had been committed on the "Road," as the "Sirkar" has demanded that it be kept inviolate.

Consequently, from numerous houses whose proximity admits of it run underground passages to the "Road," whereby their owners can safely gain access to it without fear of being shot from the watch-tower of an ever vigilant foe.

Kadail, being built close to the "Road," boasted of one of these passages, wherein the inhabitants had a great advantage over those of Torari, situated at a distance of nearly a quarter of a mile from it.

Early one morning Yakoob Khan unexpectedly met with a party from Torari, and seeing amongst them his enemy, shot him dead. Before the others had recovered from their surprise Yakoob had bolted towards the "Road," and leaping over the low bordering hedge reached sanctuary amidst a shower of bullets. Laughing loudly at the threats of vengeance which followed him, he strode fearlessly along and disappeared up the tunnel into his village. Thus was added another item to the sum of vengeance which the inhabitants of Torari swore would soon be settled.

There is yet another law of sanctuary in this land where the murder of your neighbour is as common an occurrence as is the slander of a dear friend at afternoon tea in more civilised countries. On the Frontier common-sense has instituted the law that during the sowing and reaping of crops all bloodfeuds shall cease. Were it not so, no crops could be sown. Consequently it is a common sight during harvest-time to see the villagers cutting their crops, rifles stacked in a corof the field, or in the

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