Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1879-05-28
NO. 13O.
Gales ano Skettbes.
THE VALLEY OF DEATH.
4 Tale OF the Last Afghan War.
CHAPTER l.--AN AsIATiC BEAUTY.

! Evening in Afghanistan, on fine Octo-
ber day in 1871 the city of Cabul lying
| outspread in the beauty of countless gar
dens and many colorcd towers beneath the
sunset glory; the massive tomb of Baber,
the Mogul, standing out like giant SEN
tine against the crimson sky; the red
light fading slowly over the wide green
plain around, dotted with white villages.
and framed in ring of purple hills; the
little river dancing and sparkling 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 coolness of the coming 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 Englishman beside the lank,
wiry frame and dark, lean visage Of the
Sepoy- needing as little the fierce looks
darted al them from either side as the
CLEAN east on their bayonets by the set
ting sun. Afgbanistan has been invaded
and overrun. The great Ameer, Dost Mo
hammed 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 noun
tain
But the invaders flushed with their easy
victory, and ill-restrained by their COM
mander, are already beginning to lose
their discipline.
An experienced leader would augur
mischief from the sounds of boisterous mer-
riment 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 p
''Share and share alike, as good COM
rades ought!' shouted third with
coarse laugh. Lets have look at the
little luggage
And, so speaking. he took away the veil
of the slight figure which his comrade had
seized, revealing the face of young ma
tive girl of sixteen.
The next moment the aggressor started
back with howl of pain. as the small
knife which is every Afghan woman's in
separable companion, gashed his extended
hand from side to side. But the frail
weapon was instantly wrested from her,
while half-a-dozen strong hands seized the
struggling form in their brutal grasp.
just at that critical moment blow,
which the late Senator Morrisey himself
might have applauded, sent the foremost
assailant sprawling on his back, while the
others recoiled right and left before the
shock of tall figure that came bursting in
among them, scattering them in all direc-
tions.
Now. then who the deuce are you,
shown in where you amt wanted? !? growl-
ed one of the soldiers, pugnaciOusly.
The newcomer deigned no reply, but
silently threw back his cloak, displaying
to the startled group the uniform of line
officer, and the badge of their regiment.
by Jingor' muttered the challenger.
with look of dismay, .'here's q pretty
job"
You call yourselves Englishmen ?"
cried the officer, in a voice almost inarticu-
late with passion. "Is this how you keep
up the honor of the old flagp You shall
hear of this o-morrow morning, be assured
of that Be off with you!'
The crestfallen brawlers skunk away
without word
Then the rescued girl took her protect
or's hand in both her own, and pressed it
lightly to her forehead, with an almost
royal dignity, which in one scarcely beyond
the years of childhood, astonshed even
the unmaginative Englshman.
Though voted model officer bv his SUI
periors, and an insensible brute by the la
dies of the Peshawur garrison, Capt. St.
Clair was not yet so thoroughly pipe
clay aS to have lost his appreciation of
feminine charms and he could not hut
own that this young beauty of the wilder
ness, with the fire of her Afghan blood in
her deep, lustrous eyes, and the sup
pie grace of the Oriental in every line of
her perfect figure, made such picture as
he had seldom seen.
In spite of himself, his voice softened
as he asked. in her own language:
'liave they hurt you, my poor child?"
Il would have hurt them, had they not
snatched away my knife answered tie
Afghanne, proudly. as she pointed to the
blood drops that had fallen from her as
saiant's wound. The daughter of Akbar
Khan knows how to defend herselfr'
"Akbar Khan = echoed st. Clair, recall
ing with sense of vague uneasiness, for
which he could not himself account. the
name of the terrible chief whose influence
among the hill tribes was only second to
that of the Ameer himself. ''But how
came you here. then, when your father is
far away in the South ?"
II came--to vista friend of my father,
said the girl with momentary hesitation,
which did not escape the questoner.
"She's lying, the little fox!" thought
he; "but its no business of mine.''
Il was going back, " she continued, '.to
the friends who are waiting for me in yon-
der village, but | found the city gates
shut
If that is your only difficulty" said
the captain, lit is soon mended. Come
with me.
A few minutes brought them to the
Eastern gate, and two words to the sentry
Sufliced to open it.
As the girl passed through the deep,
shadowy archway. she looked wistfully
back to her preseryer. and paused for u
moment as If about to speak.