"'Baba (child)!' said the Major, 'listen to me.'
"'Don't talk to him now, Sahib,' said the Affghan, compassionately. 'In his anger his senses always leave him, and he cannot hear what you say. Let him exhaust his fury upon me. He will be powerless presently.'
"And so it was. After a brief while, the boy sat down on the carpet, gasped for breath, and was seemingly unable to move or speak. The lady of the house offered him a glass of water, but he shrunk back, and declined to receive it from her hand.
"The Affghan took the Major aside, spoke to him in private, and then left the room. Here another very painful scene ensued. The boy, exhausted as he was, attempted to follow his late master; he was restrained, of course; whereupon he uttered the most heart-rending cries that ever were heard. The Major had him conveyed to his bungalow, where a room was set apart for him, and a servant and an orderly had him in their keeping. It was a month before the boy could be reconciled to his 'fate,' as he called it; and soon afterwards arrangements were made for sending him home to his grandfather and grandmother, who are persons of a lofty position in life and very wealthy. They received him with extreme affection, and on the death of his grandfather, he will succeed to a title and an estate worth eleven thousand a-year. The Affghan, who was very fond of the boy, corresponds with him regularly, and they exchange presents, as well as letters.
"Kelly, of the 62nd, who was killed at Ferozeshah, and who formerly belonged to the 13th Foot, when they were in Affghanistan, told me a more curious story of a little girl, than the one I have related to you of this boy."
"What was it?" I asked.
"My dear fellow," said the Lieutenant, "I cannot talk any more just now. You shall have it some other day. We are not going to part company yet, old boy." With these words he fell asleep, his feet over the dashboard, and his head resting on my shoulder.