tures gleamed with pleasure at the anticipated reward, and yet he haggled for something more.
"Would I also let his camels graze nearer the border than heretofore?" he asked.
"No; I could not do that."
"Well, then, might their grazing-ground be changed to such and such a place?"
"Yes," I said at once. "I would agree to that."
Having come to terms with him, a business-like agreement was soon made with the other headmen, was reduced into writing, and solemnly marked or sealed by each man. Illiterate though they were, that last little ceremony literally sealed the compact, and bound them more strongly to their engagement than if half-a-dozen constables had been sent back with each of them. It had been the same with the Shirani Jirga (tribal council). Though none of them could read or write, a formal compact had been drawn up and subscribed.
Everything being in train, I returned to Dera Ismail Khán greatly relieved in mind, and informed the junior conspirator that our plans were on the point of realisation. She, however, faint-heartedly seceded, and openly declared that she wished "this dangerous expedition would be countermanded." On November 15th I returned to Dràband, and there received a message from Jamál, the chief of the Khyderzai section of the Shiranis – the nest of irreconcilables who inhabited the higher slopes of tlie great mountain, and lived by plunder and grazing. This Jamál informed me that he and his men would come in on condition that I agreed to help him with men and arms to take vengeance on certain enemies of his. His condition being refused, he went back to his lair, vaguely engaging to meet us on the Takht itself.
On the 19th we made our first march into the hills. We entered with nearly 1700 fighting men and 700 followers, including 400 Nasar camel-men. We carried 15 days' supplies and stores on 1100 camels and 800 mules. Of the camels about 500 were loaded with bhoosa, or chopped straw, than which a more wasteful, bulky, and altogether inconvenient load for hill campaigning is inconceivable. The route by which the General had determined to ascend the Takht was a very circuitous one. We were to pierce the range by the Zao Pass, about thirty miles north of the Takht, and then work round its flank to a reported spring and goat-path called Pazai. After ten months of continuous drought, so bare and parched was the country that herbage was very scanty, and springs and streams were either dried up or sadly shrunken. The success of the expedition depended on the Pazai spring being found at the place at which I supposed it to be, and on its having a sufficiency of water for our wants. As all my information was that of a few untrustworthy spies and Shiranis, there was no certainty that I had correctly diagnosed the truth from their conflicting statements.
The second march brought us to the mouth of the Zao Pass. A few of us pushed on through it. Before we had gone half a mile, a waterfall compelled us to abandon our horses and proceed on foot. Obstacle the first was formidable, and would certainly delay progress some hours. Further on, a low overhanging rock above our heads promised to knock off the camel-loads; whilst under our feet a polished ledge, over which the stream flowed, made it certain that
