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AMANULLAII

when Afghans had swept the plains clear of British
save for the dead and the dying. At Maiwind in the
year 1880, the Afghan hordes had conic down like wolves
upon the armed force of Great Britain. There had been
no withstanding their ferocity, their bravery, and their
generalship. He searched out old warriors, who,
flattered and gratified, enlarged the tale of Afghan
heroism until it sounded as if the stem battle, when the
British had been outmanoeuvred, was a tussle between
forces quite disproportionate in valour.

The seed was sown. Henceforth, if Amanullah ever
gained the power he wanted in Afghanistan, the frontier
of India was not safe from the attacks of a trained
Afghan army* At their head would be Amanullah.

It is small wonder that history went to his head. He
could make no comparisons. He did not know that his
old matchlocks were out of date. He did not know
that modern fortresses were proof against the sword
and the burning brand* He had never seen a modern
first-class fighting force on the move. He did not know
that personal bravery now counted for little in the
science of warfare, even in his own hills. Amanullah
had a swollen head—but it was mainly through his own
ignorance*

Life was pleasant* For once in history, the Bast
was in turmoil while Afghanistan was peaceful. There
were minor revolts, it is true, and disturbance in the
Army. But these were to be expected, and meant
nothing, A few hundred soldiers shot at dawn every
year. A few examples made of mutineers and robbers*
Their terrible tortures, their death agonies and maimings,
were all in the decree of existence in the land of an iron
people.

One outburst emanated from the lips of Amanullah.
It was when one of the richest jests of his father was

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