It is, however, because this night firing is so common a
feature, that I feel no picture of the war on the Indian frontier would
be complete without some account of it.
The next day we crossed the Panjkora River, and I started to ride down
the line of communications to the base at Nowshera. At each stage some
of the comforts of civilisation and peace reappeared. At Panjkora we
touched the telegraph wire; at Sarai were fresh potatoes; ice was to be
had at Chakdara; a comfortable bed at the Malakand; and at length, at
Nowshera, the railway. But how little these things matter after all.
When they are at hand, they seem indispensable, but when they cannot be
obtained, they are hardly missed. A little plain food, and a philosophic
temperament, are the only necessities of life.
I shall not take the reader farther from the scene of action. He is free
and his imagination may lead him back to the highland valleys, where he
may continue for a space among camps and men, and observe the conclusion
of the drama.
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