The Delaware ledger. (Newark, Del.) 1879-19??, 1885-06-27
T he Warriors Last Blow.

4 STORY OF THE FIRST AFGHAN WAR.
The mountains of northern Af-
ghanistan are a cold and dismal
region in winter ut the best of times;
but never had they looked colder,
blcaker, and more dismal altogether
than just about daybreak on a chill,
drcary morning in January, 1912.
On either side of deep, narrow,
gloomy gorge vast black precipices
rose hundreds of feet into the air,
ilecked with streaks of ghostly white
by the snow that had lodged in the
clclts and hollows. Here and there
among the rocks the skeletons of a
few leafiess trees looked gauntly
down upon the dreary valley, which
seemed as dark and silent and
lonely as the mouth of a tomb. In
the heart of that savage solitude it
might well astonish any one to hear
several words of English, and those,
too, spoken by the voice of a young
child.
Three figures had just issued from
a deep cavern, or rather cleft, in the
rock, in which they seemed to have
taken shelter for the night. The
foremost-a tall, gaunt, sinewy Ash
attic, with his shaggy black hair
twisted into long curls after the
Beloochi fastion, a heavy Afghan
jezail (rihe) on his shoulder, and
long dagger in his silken girdlc-
looked just the man for such wild
region; but the slight, dclicate-iea-
tured English lady who followed
him, and the little girl whom She
led by the hand, were the very last
people that one would have expect
ed to meet in the depths of this
grim wilderness.
Both looked pale and worn, Ms if
such rough travelling were far too
much for their strength and Il very
pretty sight it was to sec how care
full the fierce warrior was of them
both, helping the mother whenever
she stumbled among the sharp
stones, and carrying the child in his
strong arms through the great snow
drifts that had swept across the mar
row break-neck path every here and
there. But all this while his keen
black eye kept glancing back over
his shoulder, or looking restlessly
from side to side, as if expecting
every moment the appearance of an
enemy.
How they had come there is easily
told. They were the wife and
daughter of Colonel Harcourt, an
English officer, who, having been
detached to take charge of "A hill
fort on the British line of advance
upon Cabool (the Afghan capitol,
had left them with the main army
as being more likely to be safe there
But now the army itself, having
been driven out of Cabool by the
Afghans, had been attacked among
the mountains in its retreat toward
the frontier of India and completely
destroyed. Amid the general
slaughter, Mrs. Harcourt and hel
little Minnie had been saved with
great difficulty by their friend IsmaiI
Beg-a brave Beloochi chief in the
English service, who was now doine
his best TO bring them safely to the
fort where Colonel Harcourt was il
command.
But even Ismail's strong nerves
trembled as he suddenly saw far il
the distance Il line of figures com
ing on over the frozen hillside swil
and merciless ns pursuing wolves
The Afghans were on their trail
Had he been alone, the DARN
Beloochi would have feared nothing
for he had faced worse odds befor
now, and he had to run for his lilt
few men in those mountains coul
have overtaken him. lie caugl
up Mimic, and strobe onwar
through mud and snow, while tn
little girl nestled her golden hea
against his shoulder as if feelin
quite safe in his hands. But thcl
was no one to carry poor Mrs. Ha
court, whose delicate feet were Il
ready sorely cut by the shar
stones; and do what they might, IL
pursuers gained upon them, ute