He was unarmed, but he never thought of the wild animals which abound on the hills and in the forests of Afghanistan. Lions are rare; but tigers, hyænas, bears, and wolves are plentiful enough, and the terrible passes of the Khyber mountains had peculiar attractions for the latter now. Yet Waller's sole anxiety was to avoid, not these, but their rivals in cruelty, the natives.
He had no guide; but he knew, by the way the range of mountains rose between him and the sky, that the great plain or vale, wherein Jellalabad is situated, and which has an average breadth of ten miles, must, when he quitted the farm-gate, lie on his right hand and not on his left. Other indication he had none, and he set out in the hope of being within sight of its walls by daybreak, or at least soon after.
The improved appearance of the highway as he proceeded, afforded proof that it led to some large city, and he pressed on with a confident and hopeful heart, sometimes between orchards containing a profusion of apple, plum, quince, and pomegranate trees, which the coming summer should see in full bloom and bearing. Now and then, softly, almost breathlessly, he would pass the skirts, but never through the straggling street, of a village, such being usually closed at each end by gates; and occasionally he crossed a little brawling stream, a tributary of the Cabul, spanned by pretty bridges of stone, ornamented with tiny towers at each end.
Anon some pariah dog, prowling out of doors—for the poor dog is in great disrepute among Mohammedans—would bay out upon the night breeze, causing him to pause and shrink for concealment close to the nearest tree or hedgerow. And now, with growing hope and heartiness, he had proceeded from the mountain-farm fully five coss, or ten English miles, on the Jellalabad road when day began to dawn on the mighty peaks of the Khyber range, and the ruddy sunlight stole gradually down their slopes into the gloomy passes and rocky ravines which intersect and separate them.
When day was fairly in, Waller began to think of seeking a place of concealment till night again fell, when he felt certain that a few miles more along that open highway must eventually bring him to some gate of Jellalabad; but an abrupt turn of the road brought him suddenly upon a village, the gates of which stood open. There in the little street some armed horsemen were grouped around a well, and many people were astir previous to departing to their work in the fields; for all the country there is beautifully cultivated, and ever covered by a profusion of the richest vegetation.
He was seen; there was a shout—spurs were applied to the horses, flight was impossible, and in half a minute he was again a prisoner, the lances levelled at his throat menacing him with death.
"A Kaffir—a Feringhee! kill him, kill him!" cried the villagers, male and female, as they crowded in wild tumult around him; even the tawny children raised their little hands against the weary wanderer, for the place was the abode of Ghazees, the wildest of Mohammedan fanatics.
"Bismillah! there is one yet alive!" exclaimed a horseman.
"But what said Ackbar Khan?—may the sun be his star, the new moon his stirrup-iron—one was to be left to tell the tale," exclaimed another, mercifully interposing his lance between Waller and the others; "and this is he."
"Nay, one Kaffir has already got into Jellalabad—it is enough; let us have this one's head," was the general cry which rose to a mingled yell, and dark eyes flashed, and white teeth were ground around him. So poor Waller began to fear that he was the 'last man' after all, and worse off than when ploughing for old Nouradeen Lai. However, he kept close to the young chief who seemed disposed to protect him, and who was accoutred with a steel cap and shield.