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96<br />
A VIZIER’S DAUGHTER – A TALE OF THE HAZARA WAR<br />
spies. There is no esprit de corps in Afghanistan. It is a countr y where<br />
every man is for himself, and “the devil take the hindermost,” which<br />
generally means the man who brings in fewest reports to his superiors.<br />
When they were out of sight of the camp, Gul Begum called her mother<br />
up beside her. “Forgive me, mother, that I ride while you walk,” she<br />
said. “I only did so till we got out of the camp,” and so saying, she<br />
flung herself from the saddle.<br />
“Here, what is this?” the soldier called out indignantly. “What are you<br />
doing? Get back on to the horse at once.”<br />
Gul Begum turned to the tow men behind. “Persuade this man to let me<br />
walk a little way,” she pleaded. “I am longing to stretch my limbs. Let<br />
these two get on to the pony together,” pointing to her mother and<br />
aunt. “We shall get over the ground quicker so. Shereen and I can walk<br />
as quickly as any of you, and we ma y as well get as far as we can<br />
before the sun gets hot. It will be best for you as well as for us.” And<br />
so they let it be – the two older women riding the one behind the other<br />
on the pony, the two girls walking alo ng briskly. Their previous five<br />
days’ march had put them in excellent training, and their thirt y-six<br />
hours’ rest had completely restored them.<br />
“I wonder what sort of life we are going to?” Gul Begum whispered in<br />
her cousin’s ear. “I shan’t sta y if I am to be made unhappy, shall,<br />
you?”<br />
“I don’t see how we can help ourselves if we are to be shut up and<br />
guarded by soldiers,” Shereen answered hopelessly. “It does not seem<br />
to me we shall have much chance.”<br />
“Here, not so much talking,” one of the soldiers called out. He was<br />
sharp enough to notice that there was something earnest in the nature<br />
of their conversation, and as that might mean trouble for their escort,<br />
he felt it wise to suppress it.<br />
CHAPTER XVIII<br />
AN AFGHAN “GARDEN HOUSE”<br />
THE soldier had said it was not far to Colonel Ferad Shah’s garden<br />
house, but though the travellers had started shortly, after dawn, the sun<br />
was already low on the horizon when the little party halted in front of a<br />
heavy door – the only apparent entrance to several acres of land,<br />
enclosed by a high thick mud wall. Gul Begum’s heart stood still. Once<br />
inside those walls, what chance would the bravest have of escape?
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