His Highness started at five, and we an hour afterwards. I had no adventures this day worth recounting. We were among the mountains again: winding-paths, ravines and bridges being the predominant features. There were so many thousands on the march together that divers discomforts arose. First, the dust was choking, making the eyes and throat smart. Then “blocks” occurred, and we got jammed in some of the passes. Under these circumstances the horses at once begin kicking and fighting, and you have to look out for your shins. I had to stop by the wayside frequently to bandage up some unfortunate who had become damaged. I carried bandages and one or two splints with me. We got into a series of valleys, and in one, which was regularly cup-shaped, with precipitous mountains around it, we were jammed for about an hour. It was quite an experience sitting in the dust and heat among the kicking horses. However, there is an end to most things if you wait long enough, and we got out of the valley eventually. At ten a.m. we arrived at the valley of Ghuzniguk, where Ishak fought against the Amîr’s soldiers. His Highness himself, I heard, was not present at the battle: his illness prevented him leaving Kabul. Here we camped. [Sidenote: An Afghan “Good Samaritan.”] When I rode into the town I saw the tent of my neighbour, the Mirza Abdur Rashid, already erected, and as my baggage had not yet arrived I dismounted and entered it. It was empty, and I lay on the carpet to rest. A soldier, whom I did not recognize, brought me a pillow, some iced water, and a piece of bread. I thanked him, and when I had eaten and drank I lay down again: he stood and fanned me, whereat I was thankful, till finally I fell asleep. I woke by-and-bye and found the kindly Afghan had departed. I was sitting cross-legged, leaning against the pillow, with a look of pensive melancholy on, when the Mirza and some others entered. After shaking hands we sat down again, and the Mirza said, “Doctor Sahib bisyar manda shud.” “The Doctor Sahib is very tired.” I could not admit this before the others, and I broke out into Persian: “Né manda na shudam--gurisna shudam.” “Nay, I am not tired, I am hungry.” In those days I so rarely would attempt to talk Persian that they laughed; and I had used the colloquial Afghan-Persian _gurisna_ instead of the correct _gursina_. A tray of cold meat cut up into cubes, and some bread, was brought, and we helped ourselves with our fingers. In the afternoon the Armenian sent word that my tent was up, and I went off there and slept again for a couple of hours. After that the Armenian suggested my using his tent one day and my own the next, so that a tent could be sent on beforehand and made ready by the time I arrived. Dinner came, as usual, from His Highness’s cook, and I turned in at eight. The Armenian and the servants slept on the ground outside the tent. [Sidenote: The Poisonous Sting.]