Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1879-05-30
NO. 1872.
Gales ano skettl,es.
THE VALLEY OF DEATH.
4 Tale Of the Last Afghan War.
Continued from Yesterday


When st. Clair recovered consciousness.
he was too weak and weary to take much
note of his surroundings. His chief feel
ing was of Overpowering exhaustion.
mixed with vague sense of having lain
insensibe for weeks or even months since
the fatal day of Koord- Cabul. Little by
little he began to notice that he was lying
upon a cushioned couch in a large, high
rooted chamber, the walls of which were
hung with the skins of wolves and tigers,
mingled with pointed helmets, silver-hil-
ted yataghans and long mountain rifles.
Through narrow loop hole in the wall,
which revealed its immense thickness. he
caught glimpse of smooth green valley
far below, dappled with clustering trees,
among which q tiny stream sparkled in
the sunlght-a sufficient proof how long
a time must have elasped since the gloomy
winter morning of that battle.
At that moment light step caught his
ear, and looking round. he beheld once
more the long, dark hair and lustrous
eyes of Guleyaz.
He was about to speak, but she signed
to him to be silent.
The angel of death still hovers over
you, and you must beware. ] will tell
you all you wish to know. The Ferring
hees are slain, every ilan; and the cow
ard whom they set up as our king has fled
for his lite. They who struck you down
We're men of another tribe. who knew
nothing of my fathers pledge our people
recognized you among the fallen, and
brought you away--and here, in the
halls of Kara Dagh you are safe as beneath
the shadow of the Prophets tomb -
The word "Kara-Dagh'' (Black noun
tan) was a revelation to st. Clair.
There was no further room for doubt.
He was prisoner in the mountain strong
hold of Akbar Khan himself
Day succeeded day, and the wounded
officer, thanks to his own native vigor as
well as the untring care of his charming
nurse, began to shake off the fatal torpOr
which had held him down so long.
After while he was able to leave his
couch, and, supported by the arm of Guile
yaz, who seldom left him, to venture
forth upon the battlements, where he sat
for hours drinking in the live-giving
mountain breeze, and feasting his eyes
upon the glorious panorama below.
From GuleyaZ herself he had learned
that her father was himself in the strong
hold and the reluctance with which she
gave the information recurred to his
memory more than once.
The reason of these precautions was at
length explained by piece of news
which made his heart leap, when the care
less talk of two sentinels brought it to his
ears, viz: that second English army was
advancing into Aighanistan to avenge the
destruction of its predecessors.
M liyipp craatlira IL mora thorotnh1v "
accessible to female influence than a
strong man suddenly made helpless and
Herbert, with the princess arm supporting
his weary head, and her musical voice re-
peating some stirring native war song or
romantic Eastern legend, was happier
than he had been amid the rush and earn
age of the battle field.
But this pleasing dream was destined to
q sudden and awful awakening.
One morning when St. Clairs strength
was so completely restored that thoughts
of escape had already begun to haunt him,
Guevaz rose to leave him much before her
usual time, with long, lingering, be-
seeching look which her last words terri
bly, explained
The Feringhee warriors are on their
march hther. and my father is angry.
This day he will send for you, and. oh, be-
ware of offending him. for his own sake
and mine -
An hour later. the curtain that hid his
door was lifted, and deep voice said
Follow us, lngleez. The khan calls
for you"
Led by his guards, st. Clair traversed a
seemingly endless passage, and entered a
wide hall, around which stood line of
armed Atghans motionless as statues.
In the centre sat the principal chiefs OF
the tribe, and midmost of all the stately
figure of Akbar himself. in all the splen-
dor of barbaric adornment, with the folds
of his ieweled turban overshadowng the
fierce black eyes that had never known
fear OF mercy.
As the prisoner entered, Guleyaz (who
was seated beside her father) shot one
rapid glance at him, as if to bid him re-
member her warning, and then cast her
eyes down as before.
There was momentary pause and then
Akbar spoke.
''Feringhee, You are brave warrior
and as chief speaks with chief, SO will
speak with you. We have slain many or
the lngleez and their brethren are angry.
War is at our gates, and we need every
good sword that will fight for us. Hear
me we have fought with you as an enc
my--we now embrace you as friend.
You have been valiant and we respect your
salor; YOU have been kind, and we are
grateful for your kindness. Dwell among
Us, fight in our ranks, call yourself an
Afghan instead of Feringhee--and my
wealth shall be your wealth, and / will be
your father, and my daughter shall be your
bride
For one moment the brave mans pulse
throbbed wildly, as the large eyes that had
so often looked into his own rested on him
imploringly. Few men could have met
that glance unmoved; while, on the other
hand he knew that to refuse such an offer
from such man would be rushing upon
certain death in the cruelest form that At
CHAN vengeance could devise. But in the
face of the terrible temptation, the English
heart within him beat true as ever. lie
looked fearlesslv into the merciless eyes
that watched him, and his voice never
wavered as he replied:
Prince, YOU have spoken plainly. and |
thank you. Your offers are great but
t, IA thn q.