That black pony was uncanny. An evil spirit--several evil spirits--possessed him. The first thing he did, when we got him home, was to deliberately untie his halter, walk off to the “fool horse,” though he was only about half his size, and fight him. He went so quietly and seemed so gentle--just at first: but he was a fiend. They fought furiously, striking, kicking, and tearing at each other with their teeth. If we had not succeeded in separating them the “fool horse” would have been killed. [Sidenote: The “Steam-engine” Pony.] Shortly after that, and without any hurry, he slipped his head out of his headstall and walked off to a horse belonging to the Armenian, a young one he had lately bought to trade with in Kabul. The young one was frightened, and the “Steam-engine,” seeing it was an adversary not worthy of his steel--or teeth--merely nipped him in the neck and walked back again. The next day I rode him to the Hospital. The Armenian was riding a grey--a cross between an Arab and a Kataghani, a swift animal--and one of the compounders was on the “fool horse,” who stumbled. When we got through the bazaars I gave the pony his head, and off he skated. I leant back and occupied myself in hanging on. He kept the grey at a gallop all the way to the Hospital: about a quarter of an hour afterwards the compounder arrived on the “fool horse.” I saw my patients, cut off a man’s thumb at the wrist, then we skated back again. One afternoon, it was in April, as I was coming back from seeing a patient, I met the two little Princes, Hafiz Ullah and Amin Ullah, who were aged respectively about nine and three. They were in their palanquins, and there was a guard of about thirty soldiers. As the sun was hot, a large umbrella was held over each Prince. I pulled up my horse and saluted, and the elder of the two Princes asked if I would not accompany them. The Armenian and I, therefore, turned our horses and rode with them. I wondered where we were going. We marched through the streets and bazaars, the guard flourishing their almond sticks to clear people out of the way, till we reached the gates leading into the grounds around the Temple or Mosque of Mazar.