Still it was nigh bed-time prayers before they extricated themselves from the mouth of the valley and the villagers of Yâka-Aulang came out to meet the forlorn party, to help, and even to carry, some of them into warm houses, and thereinafter to slaughter fat sheep for them, bring a superfluity of hay and grass for their horses, and abundance of wood to kindle their fires.
Once again Babar felt that to pass from the cold and snow into such a village with its warm houses, and to escape from want and suffering to find such plenty of good bread and fat sheep as they did, was an enjoyment that can only be conceived by such as have suffered similar hardships, or endured such heavy distress.
But better by far to him than this material satisfaction, was the glow at his heart when an old white-headed patriarch nodding by the fireside, mumbled--
"Never has it been done before, never since the memory of man hath Zerrin been passed in such snow. Never hath any man ever conceived even the idea of passing it at such season--Never! Never!"
It was something to have done! After this, marching was easy. But the strain had told upon the courage of the rank and file, and once when the little party came upon a clan of Hazâras who disputed passage in a narrow defile, there was near disaster. The young King, who was in the rear, galloped up to find his force retreating before a deadly flight of arrows.
"Stand!" he shouted. "Stand!" But the men would not be rallied. "Fools!" he cried, rising in his stirrups, a fine young figure, unarmoured, without sword or lance, without helmet or aught but his bow and quiver--for the attack was entirely unforeseen and he had been, for the time, off-duty--"Call ye yourselves servants to stand still while the master works? Lo! He who hires a servant hires him for his need; not to stand still like a slipped camel!"
So with a wild huroosh! he set his horse spurring forward. The reckless bravery did its work. The men roused by it turned to follow. The ambuscade was reached, the hill beyond climbed after the enemy, who, seeing the troopers were in real earnest, fled like deer. So the danger passed; but Babar wondered vaguely that night if it was to be ever so; if the great mass of humanity ever needed a flaming match ere they would catch fire.
But there was more trouble to come, as, with such haste as was possible--for the snow which was very heavy that winter, hindered them even in the valleys--they pushed on towards Kâbul.
It was one day at noon when, being almost perished with the frost, they had alighted to kindle fires and warm themselves ere going on, that a messenger on horseback arrived with ill news. The Moghuls left behind in Kâbul had risen, and, aided by outsiders and some of the immediate relations of the King, had declared for Babar's young cousin Weis-Khân, on whose behalf they were now besieging the Fort, which in capable and loyal hands was still holding out for the rightful King.
"Said I not so, sire?" remarked old Kâsim drily. "The devil is in it when women are left alone too long."