"I do not believe in them," said General Elphinstone, who was seated in an easy-chair, being almost too feeble to stand; "for after we restored Shah Sujah to his throne, we made, as you all know, a solemn agreement with the Ghilzie Chiefs, that, for a yearly sum, they should keep the Khoord Cabul, and other mountain passes, open between this and Jellalabad, and offer no molestation to our troops on the march; consequently, I repeat that I do not believe in the story of the hadji." "That old fellow never believes anything; nor will he give credence to the discontents around us, till the Afghan knives are at his throat," whispered Waller to Polwhele; "poor Elphinstone! he is failing fast, Jack." "Yes; but he was busy all summer planting peas and cabbages, like Cincinnatus, when he should have been getting the Shah's Gholandazees trained to their guns." "And will you believe it," added Burgoyne, a smart and sunburnt young officer, "Lady Sale told me that he actually ordered Sir Robert's regiment to march from this with flint-locks,* instead of eight hundred percussion muskets which he requested from the store; an error which may be most fatal by this time, if the Passes are beset." * Fact. Waller gazed with something of pity at the old man, who was long past the years for command; he was orthodoxly attired in his blue undress surtout, with a gold sash over his shoulder, and a ribbon at his breast, with the Order of the Dooranee Empire, but death seemed already imprinted in his anxious eyes and haggard face, which was all wrinkles, lines, and hollows. His voice was feeble, and he had a husky cough; yet his face seemed to brighten when he mumbled hopefully of "getting home at last to die in old Scotland," though fated never to issue from the Khyber Pass, save as a corpse. And it was to him that the perilous task of keeping our little force at distant Cabul was assigned by the Government of India! Waller mentioned to him the story of Taj Mohammed's visit; but it was treated as an illusion; for was not the atmosphere of Cabul full of such rumours, and was not the hereditary enmity between Taj Mohammed and the Sirdar (or general), as Ackbar Khan was named, proverbial? Each would ever do his utmost to injure the other, even unto death. Then the roar of the gong announced that "tiffin was served," ending the matter; the probable fate of Her Majesty's Envoy was thought of no more for the time; for Mabel Trecarrel, with a bright smile on her upturned face, slipped her white arm through that of the aged General, and all moved towards the dining-room, between close ranks of native servants, whose white turbans, jackets, and dhotties, contrasted strongly with their dark visages and gleaming eyes.