as we were, dog-tired and with no fires to cook any food.  They came on again in the morning, clouds of them, but we held them back with the gatlings and the maxims, and towards evening they again retired.  To-day nothing has happened except the arrival of an envoy with an arrogant letter from Shere Ali, asking why we are straying inside the borders of his country ’like camels without nose-rings.’  We shall show him why to-morrow.  For to-morrow we attack the fort on the maidan.  Good-night, mother.  I am very tired.”  And the last sentence took away from Sybil Linforth all the comfort the letter had brought her.  Dick had begun very well.  He could have chosen no better words to meet her eyes at the commencement than those three, “I am unhurt.”  But he could have chosen no worse with which to end it.  For they had ended the last letter which her husband had written to her, and her mind flew back to that day, and was filled with fore-bodings.

But by the next mail came another letter in his hand, describing how the fort had been carried at the point of the bayonet, and Shere Ali driven back behind the nullah.  This, however, was the strongest position of all, and the most difficult to force.  The road which wound down behind the fort into the bed of the nullah and zigzagged up again on the far side had been broken away, the cliffs were unscaleable, and the stone sangars on the brow proof against shell and bullet.  Shere Ali’s force was disposed behind these stone breastworks right across the valley on both sides of the river.  For three weeks the British force sat in front of this position, now trying to force it by the river-bed, now under cover of night trying to repair the broken road.  But the Chiltis kept good watch, and at the least sound of a pick in the gulf below avalanches of rocks and stones would be hurled down the cliff-sides.  Moreover, wherever the cliffs seemed likely to afford a means of ascent Shere Ali had directed the water-channels, and since the nights were frosty these points were draped with ice as smooth as glass.  Finally, however, Mrs. Linforth received a third letter which set her heart beating with pride, and for the moment turned all her fears to joy.

“The war is over,” it began.  “The position was turned this morning.  The Chiltis are in full flight towards Kohara with the cavalry upon their heels.  They are throwing away their arms as they run, so that they may be thought not to have taken part in the fight.  We follow to-morrow.  It is not yet known whether Shere Ali is alive or dead and, mother, it was I—­yes, I your son, who found out the road by which the position could be turned.  I had crept up the nullah time after time towards the glacier at its head, thinking that if ever the position was to be taken it must be turned at that end.  At last I thought that I had made out a way up the cliffs.  There were some gullies and a ledge and then some rocks which seemed practicable, and which would lead one out on the brow of the cliff