After proceeding a quarter of a mile Angus, who was riding ahead, suddenly stopped his horse, hearing a deep groan. As the ground was strewn with rocks on either side of the track, he concluded at once that some poor fellow had crawled away to die, unnoticed by our cavalry returning from pursuit. Knowing what tortures he must be suffering from thirst he dismounted, and filling a pannikin from one of the skins, he bade Azim bring some fruit, and then made his way to the spot from which the sound proceeded. There, lying close under a rock, was a young Afghan, whose clothes showed that he was a chief of some rank. His eyes were closed, his face pallid and drawn, his lips black and cracked with thirst. Angus knelt beside him, and poured a few drops of water between his lips. This he repeated again and again.
The wounded man opened his eyes with a deep exclamation of thankfulness. Then his face darkened, and he said: "You meant kindly, good friend, but you have done me a cruel service. The worst had passed; I had sunk into unconsciousness, and should have passed into Paradise without more pain."
"Where are you wounded?" Angus asked. "Perhaps we can do something for you."
The Afghan slightly shook his head. "Nothing can be done for me," he said. "I have a musket-ball in my shoulder, and my right leg is broken above the knee."
"At any rate we can make you comfortable. We were going to camp a short way ahead, but we will now do so here."
"May Allah bless you, but it would be better to leave me to die at once."
"That I cannot do. Now, have a good drink of water, and then I will cut a melon into pieces for you to suck while we are preparing our camp."
The horses' loads were removed and the animals turned loose to graze on the grass growing among the rocks. Then the tent was erected and the Afghan carried into the shade of a high rock close by. By this time he was able to speak more strongly, and said: "You are Persian, I see, by your dress. How comes it that you have entered this lonely gorge with your pack-horses and your goods?"
"We are going to make our road to Bokhara. There are rumours of disaffection in Cabul, and if there is fighting the houses of the traders will be looted. Therefore I resolved to leave while I could, and am taking my Indian goods for sale there."
"It will be a terrible journey," the young chief said. "There is already snow in the upper passes. I wish you success. I shall think of your kindness as I lie here, and pray Allah to protect you. Before you go I pray you to carry me down to the edge of this stream, so that I may drink when I will."