going, and consequent laudation of his Sahib. Delighted at the sight of needy visitors, he would first try to extract a small tip, and then trot them up to me, lingering inquisitively, if unnoticed, until they went.

One day he appeared at a swifter trot than usual, his eyes popping with fright, while on his heels strode a tall Pathan with a glint of amused contempt in his fine eyes. The Pathan made me a splendid salaam, but with no hint of servility, and stood at attention. I invited him in, and he, slipping off his brass-inlaid slippers, stood on the red cotton rug within the latticed door, a splendid figure of a man for all his plain dress: 'tall as a palm,' to quote Raghu later, with a clear olive skin, flashing black eyes, slightly aquiline nose, and a glossy black moustache and beard which did not conceal his mouth, delicately cut and full of feeling. What one noticed at once, and liked at once, was the charming straightforward glance of his eyes. They were as honest as a child's. His hair curled in his neck, and there were curled lovelocks before

his ears.

--

'If my Sahib, whose name is on that paper, were in Bombay I should ask no letter. But my Sahib is in Wilayat, and the new Sahib knoweth me not. And the doorkeeper of the Sahib's office is a Hindu, and demandeth a gift — two annas [four cents] he demandeth. The Bibi knoweth that this is Bombay and the sarkar alloweth not weapons and maketh a great matter of every killing, or smiting, even of idolaters. A Pathan must be as a poor sheep in this place. Rather would I spit on the face of an

'What will you?' I said.

'I have heard great praise of the Bibi's father. Folk say that he hath a very gracious temper, and will leave his food to help a man. I desire a letter from his hand to the big Sahib of the relwai workshop.'

His deep voice was incredibly soft, and his faltering Hindustani sounded like baby talk. It was charming to hear so splendid a creature speak so gently.

hand. Wherefore I desire a letter. If I take a letter he must give it to the Sahib, and I shall get audience — and the Hindu pig will eat only his own. teeth. May Allah curse all idolaters!'

'How, then, got you audience with the first Sahib? Was his doorkeeper a good Musalman who demanded four or eight annas in place of two?'

Ilyas Khan laughed. 'Nay, he too was a Hindu. Nor would I give him aught. But I was new then and very bold. I will tell the Bibi what I did.' He laughed again at the remembrance,

'Mayhap I can write the letter,' I said. 'Have you knowledge of any work?' From an inner pocket he drew

red lips. I knew nothing then of the temper and manners of Sahibs; but I had need of work, and when the Hindu refused me entrance I waited beside the

outer gate until the Sahib came out in his carriage, and then I ran and seized the horse's bridle. The ape on the box began to chatter and call out. “O Sahib," he saith, "behold this shaitan of a Pathan!" The Sahib looked forth in anger, but great was my kismet, for he was a Sahib that knew men. I made him a salaam, and when he had looked at me his anger went, and he called me to him.

""What would you?" he said. "I would speak with the Presence," I said, "but the idolater at the door demandeth a gift, and the Presence may see that I am a Pathan!" The Sahib laughed. "Raito!" said he, as we should say, "Very good." "Look, Pathan, I am in haste. Sit you there before me, and speak your desire as we go."

'So I got into the Sahib's carriage and told him what I would: "I am new come from Afghanistan and I know naught; but I am young. I have strength, nimbleness, wit, and a mind to work. I will not be proud. I will learn diligently, for, look you, I must send back money to my house, else my babes and my old father die of hunger." He wrote seven words on a piece of paper and told me to come again in the morning.'

'And when you went, what did you?' He chuckled. "The doorkeeper had seen me stop the Sahib's horse; he had seen the Sahib take me into his carriage; but still the pig must ask to see the paper in my hand; so I cut his sharp nose with the stiff edge of the paper and went in like a Lard [Lord] Bahadur. A Brahmin clerk looked at the paper and took me to an old Sahib. The old Sahib looked at me and said, "Damgood, damgood," and put me to work. He taught me all I know. He is as clever as a jinni, that Sahib. Also his temper is like a jinni's, very hot and fiery. "Dam" is ever in his mouth, and

he hateth a fool. By the grace of Allah, I am not a fool; wherefore I learned and came to good pay. Then after three years my heart yearned for my babes. and the hills and the snows, and I went home and stayed twelve months, and now I have come back.'

'What are your zai and your khail?' I asked. Not for nothing had I read my Kipling in my homesick school days in America.

He was startled and pleased. "The Bibi knoweth of our khails and zais? The Bibi hath great learning.' He told me the names of his tribe and clan, the clans with whom they were friendly and those with whom they were at feud, the name of his village and how many days' march it was from the Khaiber Pass; but all this I have forgotten, and remember now only his own name, Ilyas Khan, which is none other than the name of Elijah the Tishbite.

'And what is the temper of the Sahib who has come in the place of your Sahib?' I asked.

proud and angry.

'Proud,' he said, frowning, 'very proud and angry. When the doorkeeper, who is a new pig, would not let me in, I watched for the Sahib as before. But I saw that he is not a wise Sahib. He knoweth not men. Wherefore I spake not with him; and, hearing of the Bibi's father, I came hither.'

I dislike writing to unpleasant Sahibs, but I liked Ilyas Khan. I took up my pen and wrote circumspectly.

II

In the evening he returned to thank me. Some evenings later he came again with a friend, a man of his own khail, whom he therefore called brother. He was newly come. Would I give him also a letter? I did. The brother got work, and again the two came, to return thanks. In another week or two they were back with a third, another

khail-brother. He also got a letter and a job. Then came a fourth and a fifth brother, and every month or oftener the five would make me a state call.

I can see them now: tall, handsome men, with charming grave manners and an extraordinary gentleness and sure grace of movement. They would drift into the verandah like shadows, make their salaams, and sit down on the old red rug. They interested me enormously, and I often wished their Hindustani were not so limited, or that I knew their Pashto, the deep-chested Persian patois spoken in southern and eastern Afghan villages. The new men, also, spoke Hindustani with the soft indistinctness of baby talk - very very diverting it was to hear them and so brokenly that they usually left it to Ilyas Khan to speak for them, but he never spoke freely before them. By right of seniority, too, he was spokesman; and I noticed that the youngest man, a kinsman of Ilyas Khan's wife, maintained in Ilyas Khan's presence a deferential modesty that in one of his stature was almost affecting. A wife's kindred have always second place in her husband's house.

I would remember Kipling's tales of the Afghan frontier, and try to imagine these soft-footed, soft-voiced, keeneyed men at home. They spoke little of their homes. Longing for their high mountains and homely little villages tied their faltering tongues; besides, how could they make me understand that far-away life? I let them say what they would and forbear when they would. They modestly disclaimed much experience of killing. Certainly there were feuds: old feuds and new feuds; feuds in name only-ashes without fire and hot, bitter feuds that brought whole tribes to war. A man must walk warily at all times he might not so much as plough without his gun. Yea, sometimes, by the grace

of Allah, a bullet went home. Nay, doubtless, killing a man was no light matter; it was a matter calling for thought, and that not of one angry man, but of the elders of the clan. Nevertheless every man must fulfill his kismet, whether he killed or was killed, and all things were by the will of Allah, to whom be glory forever.

But Pathans were not an evil folk. (They smiled with charming reassurance.) They had their bellies to fill, like other folk. Fields must be tilled, cloth woven, shoes and saddles sewn, houses built, pots made, and waistcoats embroidered. Pathans did not altogether pass their lives killing enemies, though Bombay folk feared them as they had been tigers. (They smiled with scorn, and yet were not displeased with their terrible reputation.)

'Yea,' I said gravely, 'doubtless your tribe and clan are full of most virtuous men, and doubtless even some others are praiseworthy; but surely the men of such and such tribes and clans they not but vile dogs, worthy only to be shot?'

are

They laughed. "The Bibi hath taken us in the snare of our own words. Yea, of a truth, many Pathans are base knaves, faithless to salt, knowing not honor. In Jahannam they shall burn, even with idolaters.'

An occasional flash of their fine eyes helped me to picture these gentle fellows ruthlessly shooting down their tribal enemies. Was this gentleness of theirs the helpless docility of shorn Samson, the meekness of the hardworked bull, or the mildness of the tiger at rest? The sight of shrinking, grimacing Raghu always roused the tiger in Ilyas Khan, and I think that he could have shot him with as little compunction compunction with, indeed, as much righteous satisfaction as he would have shot a pig. Idolaters and swine, what were they but one unclean,

-

accursed breed? Not that he said anything of Raghu to me he accounted himself to have some knowledge of manners; it was only the cold aversion in his eyes that made me thankful he would never meet our poor little clown across the frontier.

After they had called once or twice, I went to the Bible Society and got them each the four Gospels in their own beloved Pashto. Fortunately they could all read, and they were very much pleased to get the holy Injil (Gospel) in their own tongue, for though, of course, they knew of it as a part of their sacred Qanun (canon), they had never seen it before. They received the little books with the true Mohammedan's reverence for a holy book, handled them carefully, wrapped them in a clean cloth, and took them home. Irreverence is not a Mohammedan sin. I have seen, in the old days, illiterate Mohammedans pick out of the dust a scrap of paper, written or printed, and place it under a stone at the side of the road, lest it contain a holy word or a name of God and be trodden underfoot. But now, alas, many Mohammedan shopkeepers in the cities wrap their wares in printed paper, careless of its import. These also are they who no longer leave a customer at the muezzin's call and, turning toward Mecca, tranquilly say their prayers, unconcerned whether he wait or depart, since all things are ordained by Allah. 'For the belly!' says the new generation at each turning aside, and shrugs its shoulders, while the old generation rages, or sighs.

The Mohammedan version of the Gospel is rather different from that of the Bible, since it omits or alters such matters as are inconvenient to Islam; and someone may have told Ilyas Khan and his friends that the Injil I gave them was not the true Injil, but if so they were too polite to mention it.

VOL. 140- NO. 1

Mohammedans love controversy and are often very difficult in argument. Every debate is in some sense a jihad (holy war), and they argue to win; and being a high-tempered people they may become unpleasant, not to say very unpleasant, not to say ferocious.

Whether Ilyas Khan and his friends held themselves too unlearned for controversy, or whether they held it ungracious to confute an avowed benefactress, or, perhaps, infra dig to dispute with a woman, I do not know; but I think that modesty rather than manners kept them from trying a bout with me. However it was, I was thankful. I wanted only that they should read the Gospels; that, at least while they read, they should see the form of the Son of God, whom they honored only as a Prophet, and hear His words of life; perhaps they too would fall at His feet, crying 'My Lord and my God!' There is strong magic in those little books, and one never knows whom they may enthrall. "The wind bloweth where it listeth,' and even strong Pathans have delighted to call themselves 'bond servants of Jesus Christ.'

After a year Ilyas Khan came alone one evening to take leave of me. 'I go to my country for two months only. I have leave. When I return I would bring the Bibi a gift. What desireth the Bibi?'

For a moment I saw bright embroideries and felt greedy. 'I desire nothing,' I said.

'But something I will bring,' he said doggedly. 'In all my country is nothing the Bibi desireth?'

'Why bring anything?'

'Because a Pathan may not forget favor.' He drew himself up proudly. "The men of my khail are true to salt.'

'Enough of this favor! A thousand thanks you have said for this favor. What was it, then? A very little letter. Cost it anything? Great labor was it?

By the grace of God and the merit of your own certificate some marks of my pen got you work. Without your paper, what virtue were in my paper? Thank God, and say no more of it.'

'Nay,' he said stoutly, 'is it a little thing that by the Bibi's hand I and my babes have been fed these twelve months? The grace of Allah, impoverisheth it Him? And shall we not thank Him, because that His favor costeth Him not labor? Verily I am beholden to the Bibi, and a gift I must bring. I would not bring a foolish gift; wherefore I ask, "What desireth the Bibi?"

His logic was charming. I laughed. 'Very good. Bring me then a gift. I will tell my desire. Bring me fruits or nuts of your country.'

His face fell. Only that? There are many goodly things in my country.'

'Doubtless,' I said carelessly. 'I have seen them in shops. They are questionless beautiful, but I desire not them. I delight to see strange fruits. Bring me something not seen in Bombay.'

He considered a moment, and then with a lighting of his whole face he said, 'Ha! I will bring a pot of ghi !'

I quailed inwardly, for I had read of Tibetan butter. 'Ghi? Surely there is much ghi in Bombay?'

"There is ghi of a kind, yea; but hath it flavor or fragrance? It is like so much water. But the ghi of my countryWah! It needeth but a small lump in a great pot of rice and the house is filled with the fragrance! Wah!' He threw out his arms, and his eyes sparkled.

My heart sank. What must be that ghi beside which the rancid stuff sold in Bombay bazaars was tasteless! Most particularly I desired it not! But how not to grieve this delightful Ilyas Khan?

'Wah! That is indeed ghi!' I wagged my head judicially. 'Still, I have not lived always in Bombay; and here and

there, here and there, I have eaten very excellent ghi, and ghi of great fragrance. I would eat something new. There are many fruit-bearing trees in your country, and there are no such pome granates in all India as they bring from Afghanistan. Bring me new fruits or nuts.'

He was disappointed, but unsuspecting. 'Something new I will find without doubt. But if I brought other than a thing to eat?'

'I shall be displeased,' I said gravely. 'I shall not receive it.'

'As the Bibi willeth.' He bowed.

'So long you have walked without fear; will you remember to walk warily at home? Even Peshawar is not Bombay.'

He laughed a little. 'A man verily forgetteth much here, but by the Bibi's prayers and the grace of Allah I shall go and come in safety-unless my kismet be otherwise.' On a sudden he was serious, inscrutable. Was it really homesickness that took him, I wondered. And yet that longed-for little son, the little girl, the baby boy these might well pull a man with a face like Ilyas Khan's. Perhaps, after all, he had never killed a man in his life and perhaps, God knew, he had been summoned to settle an old score with a careful bullet.

or new

'Hurt no man, and God will return you in peace. Said not Isa [Jesus], -Holy is His name! "With what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again"; and "All they that take the sword shall perish with the sword"?'

He nodded, and then, touching his brow and breast in the beautiful Mohammedan way, he bowed low and departed. In two months he was back, head high, and radiant. Slipping off handsome new slippers sparkling with brass insets, he entered with a great salaam and laid a tin box on my table.