'Mount,' said Mahmoud; 'mount and come with me, while the morning is yet dark--we have not a moment to lose.' They quitted the tower by its western gate, and took together at a hard gallop the road that led, as Colville knew by past experience, along the left bank of the Cabul river, and, leaving all the scattered forts, walled gardens, and orchards behind, runs by Khoord Cabul and the Suffaidh Sang towards the Shutargardan Pass; and now for the first time genuine hope began to dawn in his heart. 'Hark!' cried Mahmoud; 'what sound is that?' 'A British trumpet call,' replied Colville. 'Yes--and look!' said his guide, whom Colville now perceived was clad completely in spotless white, the costume of a Ghazi, assumed by those Moslem fanatics who devote themselves to death in battle for their Faith, and to achieving the death of all unbelievers. Day was breaking now, and already the snow-clad peaks of some of those hills which are above eleven thousand feet in height, tipped with rosy dawn as with fire, stood sharply up against the deep blue sky, and, after a ten miles' ride from the vicinity of the city, Mahmoud Shah drew his reins, and again said, 'Look!' Then Colville could see the gleam of arms in the distance, and as the gleam was steady he knew it was a sign of troops advancing. 'Your people are there,' said Mahmoud; 'join them, but keep out of my way for the future, and tempt me no more; for never again, had we eaten a peck of salt together, will I spare the life of an unbeliever; I have sworn it by the ninety-nine holy attributes and the Black Stone of Mecca! Go--and go with God, though Eblis is more powerful yonder. There are the unbelievers who say the blessed Koran is a lie, and who seek to turn us aside from the gods our fathers worshipped, and of whom it was written on that Night of Power, when the word came down from Heaven, they shall taste the fires of hell, which like molten metal will devour their entrails!' His dark eyes flashed as he spoke, and he ground his set teeth in the fury of his fanaticism. 'Allah Shookr!' he exclaimed, and, without waiting for a single word of thanks from Colville, wheeled his horse sharply round, and galloped away towards the distant city at full speed; and a picturesque figure he looked, in his snowy camise and loose mantle, his long, white loonghee floating in the morning breeze, his juzail slung across his back, and the head of his tall, tasselled lance gleaming in the sunshine. Colville devoutly hoped they would never meet again; yet he had not seen quite the last of Mahmoud Shah. He now rode joyfully on towards the two parties of British cavalry which were then in sight, and who were--though he knew it not--about to inaugurate those operations which brought on the battle of Charasiah--or 'The Four Water Mills,' a spot about twelve British miles from Cabul.