The silence of
weariness is broken by the incessant and uneasy shuffling of the animals
and the occasional neighing of the horses. All the valley is plunged in
gloom and the mountains rise high and black around. Far up their sides,
the twinkling watch-fires of the tribesmen can be seen. Overhead is the
starry sky, bathed in the pale radiance of the moon. It is a spectacle
that may inspire the philosopher no less than the artist. The camp is
full of subdued noises. Here is no place for reflection, for quiet or
solemn thought. The day may have been an exciting one. The morrow may
bring an action. Some may be killed, but in war-time life is only lived
in the present. It is sufficient to be tired and to have time to rest,
and the camp, if all the various items that compose it can be said to
have a personality, shrugs its shoulders and, regarding the past without
regret, contemplates the future without alarm.
CHAPTER X: THE MARCH TO NAWAGAI
After considering such maps and information as to the nature of the
country as were available, Sir Bindon Blood decided to enter the
territories of the Mohmands by two routes.
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