The Princeton union. [volume] (Princeton, Minn.) 1876-1976, 1879-02-19
THE VALLEY OF DEATH.
A Tale Of the Last Afghan War.
CHAPTER IAN ASlArIC BEAUTY.

a Tale OF the Last Afghan war.
CHAPTER IAN ASlArIC BEAUTY.
Evening in Afghauistan, On fine October
day in 1911; the city of Cabul lying Outspread
in all the beauty of its countless gardens and
many colored towers beneath the sunset
glory, the massive tomb of Baber, the Mogu!,
standing out like a giant sentinel against the
crimson sky; the red light fading slowly over
the wide green plain around, dotted with
white villages; and framed in ring of pur-
pie hills; the little river dancing and spark
ling amid it's clustering trees, and here and
there along the endless ranks of wooden
houses few turbaned figures gliding forth
to enjoy the refreshing GOODNESS OF the COM
ing night.
But the peaceful scene harmonizes i'll with
the stalwart figures in white frocks that come
tramping along the main street showing the
light hair and clear blue eyes of the English
man beside the lank, wiry frame and dark,
the fierce looks darted at them from either
side as the CLEAN cast on their bayonets by
the setting sun.
= Afghanistan has been invaded and overrun.
The great Ameer, Dost Mohammed himself,
is on his way to Peshawur as prisoner,
and sixteen thousand troops hold Cabul in
the name of Shah Soojah, the new king,
whom British bayonets have forced upon the
"men Of the mountain"
But the INVADERS flushed with their easy
victory, and ill-restrained by their command
er, are already beginning to lose their disci-
pline.
An experienced leader would augur mis-
chief from the sounds of boisterous merri-
ment echoing on every side, and to and fro,
as unlike as possible to wary soldiers in the
heart of an enemy's country.
At the corner Of the principal streets three
or four of the loudest brawlers had halted
and spread themselves out as if to stop some
one who wished to pass.
"Holloa, Bill' cried rough voice; 'ere's
prize. Who'll bid for share?''
ought" shouted second, with coarse
laugh. 'Let's have look at the little, bag
gage" Y
Aud, so speaking, he tore away the vail OF
the slight figure which his comrade had
seized, revealing the face of a young native
girl of sixteen.
The next moment the aggressCr started
back with howl OF pain, as the small knife
which is every Afghan woman's inseparablt
companion, gashed his: extended hand from side
wrested from her, while half a dozen stron!
hands seized the struggling form in thei
brutal grasp.
Just at that critical moment blow, whic]
the late Senator Morrissey himself Nigh
have applauded, sent the foremost assailan
coiled right and left before the shock of tai
4. figure that came bursting in among them
scattering them in all directions.
""Now, then! who the deuce are you; SHOW
in in where you amt wanted?' growled on
Of the soldiers, pugnaciously.
Tie newcomer del gned no reply, but silent
ly threw back his cloak, displaying to tn
startled group the uniform of line officer
and the badge Of their own regiment.
by Jingo? muttered the challenger, wit
G look of dismay, there's a pretty job"
You call yourselves Englishmen?" erie
the officer, in voice almost inarticulate wit
passion. us this how you keep up the homo
Of the old flag? You shall hear at this .tomo
row morning, be assured of that! Be off wit
| you?'
The crestfallen brawlers skunk away will
| out a word.
Then the rescued girl took her protector
| hand in both her own, and pressed it light
to her forehead, with an almost royal dignit,
childhood, astonished even the unimag inati,
/ Englishman.
T Though voted model officer by his sup
riors, and an insensible brute by the ladies
Peshawur garrison, Captain st. Clair was n
yet so thoroughly ''pipe-clay" as to have 10
his appreciation of feminine charms; and
could not but own that this young beauty
the wilderness, with the fire of her Afghs
blood in her deep, lustrious eyes, and the SUI
pie grace of the Oriental in every line of b
perfect figure. made such picture as he ha
+ seldom seen.
In spite of himself, his voice softened as h
| asked in her own language:
Have they hurt you, my poor child?'
II would have hurt them, had they NJ
snatchcd away my knife" answered Il
blood drops that had fallen from her assa
ants wound: ''The daughter of Akbar Kh,
knows how to defend herself"
''Akbar Khan!' echoed St. Clair, recallir
with sense of vague uneasness for which
could not himself account, the name of tt
terrible chief whose influence among the b
tribes was only second to that of the Anne
himself, "But how came you here, then, VIII
your father is far away in the south?'
II come-to vista friend of my father
said the girl with a momentary hesitate
which did not escape her questioner.
"shes lying, the little fox' thought
= ebut it's no business of mine'
Il was going back,'' she continued, ito
friends who are waiting for, me in yond
village, but found the city gates shut"
If that is your only difficulty" said the c;
tain, "itis soon mended. Come with me-"
flew minutes brou GIT them to the e
tern gate, and two words sufficed to open it
AS the girl passed through the deep, sh
oWy archway, she looked wistfully back
II her preserver, and paused for moment az
But the words, whatever they were, died
her lips, and st. Clair strolled back to
quarters, with a half smile upon his face
the thoughts of a romance which the SCI
mental subalterns would have rejoiced in Fl
ing to the lot of an cold stager" like hims
Little did he dream that upon this seemi
trivial occurrence hung not merely his 0
life, but that Of every man in the Engl
-f army. .s
CHAT 1I.-GATIERING OF THE BUR
Sixteen days had passed since captain
Clair's adventure, and the night of the 5tf
November found him slowly pacing
~. ct where it had occurred