I cheerfully agreed to the condition my Captain insisted upon, that I should perform my regimental duties in addition to the staff work.  Things went merrily with me for a short time, when most unexpectedly my hopes of some day becoming Quartermaster-General of the Army in India were dashed to the ground by the Governor-General refusing to confirm my appointment, because I had not passed the prescribed examination in Hindustani.  A rule existed requiring a language test, but it had seldom been enforced, certainly not in the case of ’acting appointments,’ so that this refusal came as a great blow to me.  It had, however, excellent results, for it made me determined to pass in Hindustani.  It was then May, and in July the half-yearly examination was to be held.  I forthwith engaged the best munshi[11] at Peshawar, shut myself up, and studied Indian literature from morning till night, until I felt pretty confident of success.

Just before the examination took place, the officer who had stepped into my shoes when I was turned out (Lieutenant Mordaunt Fitz-Gerald, of my own regiment) was offered an appointment in the Punjab Frontier Force.  He consulted me as to the advisability of accepting it, and I told him I thought he ought not to do so.  I considered this most disinterested advice, for I had good reason to believe that I should be re-appointed to the staff, should the appointment again become vacant.  Fortunately for me, Fitz-Gerald followed the usual procedure of those who delight in consulting their friends.  He listened to my advice, and then decided not to follow it.  Accordingly, he joined the Punjab Frontier Force, whilst I, having passed the examination, went back to the coveted appointment, and continued in the department, with the exception of one or two short intervals, until 1878, when I left it as Quartermaster-General.

The autumn of 1856 was a very sickly one at Peshawar; fever was rife amongst the troops, and in the hope of shaking it off Brigadier Cotton got permission to take a certain number into camp.  It was September, and the sun was still very hot, so that it was necessary to begin the daily march long before dawn in order to reach the new camping ground while it was still tolerably cool.  We crossed the Kabul river at Nowshera, which place was then being made into a station for troops, and marched about the Yusafzai plain for three weeks.  The chief difficulty was the absence of water, and I had to prospect the country every afternoon for a sufficient supply, and to determine, with regard to this sine qua non, where the camp should be pitched the next day.  On one occasion the best place I could discover was between two and three miles off the main road.  There was no difficulty in reaching it by day, but I was afraid of some mistake being made when we had to leave it in the small hours of the morning, few things being more bewildering than to find one’s way in the dark from a camp pitched in the open country when once the tents have