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AMANUIXAH

CHAPTER I

A BIRTH IN THE AKSIIAN IIIT,LS~~AMANULLAIT, PEACE OF
GOD''—PRIESTS AS MENTORS—AN AFGHAN WEDDING—
THE GREAT WAR—" IP I WERE KING , . ,"

THE rattle of rifles echoes through the ravines.
It is an irregular volley that is fired. There is
first a craek that shatters the peace of the even-
ing. No sooner has it died down than there is answer.
From over the hill, mingled with its last reverberation,
there eomes another. Then again, till it is difficult to
divide echo from explosion. And as the last rays of the
dying sun catch the snow on the grave and fearful top of
the Hindu Rush, the whole pleasant valley of Paghman
seems to be a sounding-board for the sharp staccato of
rifle-fire,

But it is not war. It is peace. Here is jubilation,
expressed in the traditional manner. The rifles are fired
carelessly, the triggers drawn before the rough butts have
reached the shoulder. There is a laugh on the face of the
men who fire, and there is laughter when the stones

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