On one occasion I was seated with some Afghans in a house in the village of Peiwar in the Kurram Valley. Most of the houses were on either side of one long street running the length of the village, and I noticed that some little doors had been made from house to house all down the street, and on inquiring the object of this, I was told that some time before a great faction fight had been carried on in the village. One side of the street was in one faction and the other side in the other faction, and they were always in ambush to fire at each other across the street. The only way to get to the village supply of water was to go from house to house down to the bottom of the street, and in order to do this without exposure, doors had been made, while by common consent they had agreed not to shoot while getting their supplies from the stream at the bottom. My host went on to show me sundry holes in his door and in the wooden panels of the windows, which the bullets of his neighbours across the street had penetrated, and said: "It was behind that hole in the door there that my uncle was shot; that hole in the window was made by the bullet which killed my brother." Pointing to another Afghan who had come into the room and seated himself on the bed, he said: "That is the man who shot my brother." On my remarking upon the peace and goodwill in which they appeared to be living at the present time, he said: "Yes, we are good friends now, because the debt is even on both sides. I have killed the same number in his family." After a faction fight of this kind, the fatalities on both sides are added up, and if they can be found to be equal, both sides feel that they can make peace without sacrificing their izzat (honour), and amicable relations are resumed, it being thought unnecessary to investigate who were the real instigators or murderers. If, however, one side or the other believes itself to be still aggrieved, or not to have exacted the full tale of lives required by the law of revenge, then the feud may go on indefinitely, until whole families may become nearly exterminated. The avenger will go on waiting his opportunity for months or years, but he will never forget; and one will always remember the hunted look and the furtive expression and nervous handling of the revolver and cartridges which mark the man who knows that one or more such avenger is on his track.