52 
INDIA 
Indian or European goods. The men accompanying the beasts were 
all armed, for the northern part of the pass, in charge of the Amir, 
was felt to be less secure, and an uncle or a cousin might be lurking 
behind any rock bent on doing his part in the hereditary family 
feud. Hardly had the last camel turned the corner when the 
pickets of the Khaibar Eifles came streaming down from their 
sangars (or little stone shelters) on every side, and we were given 
peremptory orders to retire. The troops marched back to their 
quarters and we drove rapidly towards the rich plains of India down 
the road that so many conquerors have followed since the days of 
Alexander the Great. 
In the early morning of the day on which we left Peshawar one 
of the ladies of our party was awakened by a report. The watch¬ 
man, or chaukidar, of a bungalow close by had been shot while 
endeavouring to stop a thief! 
These watchmen who guard every house, are said to be recruited 
from a caste of thieves. In India one does not pay a thief to catch 
a thief, but to keep thieves away. It is related that once upon a 
time an officer fresh from England, when engaging his servants 
declined to have a chaukidar. More experienced officers told him 
that he would be robbed if he did not. He said that he slept with 
a loaded revolver under his pillow, and he would like to see the 
thief that would dare to touch his things. This pleasure he was 
denied, for when he woke in the morning, he missed his watch, his 
money and his revolver. Nay further, he found that his wardrobe 
was limited to the pyjamas he had on! Under these distressing 
circumstances there was but one thing to be done, so he sent his 
servant with a note to the C.O. explaining that it was not possible 
for him to appear at early morning parade. Later in the day, a 
sadder and a wiser man, he engaged a chaukidar. 
The Ghazis, or Mohammedan fanatics, are a constant source of 
danger along the frontier, for from time to time one of them, 
impatient for the joys of Paradise, will “ run amuck ” and kill the 
first European that he chances to meet. One such incident was not 
without a grimly humorous side. The wife of a Sergeant-Major 
late one winter afternoon was walking in the outskirts of the 
Peshawar cantonment, when a Ghazi rushed up and stabbed her. 
The assassin was caught and in due course tried and hanged, but he 
was a disappointed man. In the gloaming he had mistaken the sex 
of his victim who was clothed in an ulster and wore a “ bowler ” 
hat of the manly cut then in vogue among women. But, look you, 
to ensure prompt admission to Paradise it is requisite that you 
