AMANULLAH

petrol impossible to reach with the old and rusted tools
in his tool-box. I seized the heaviest tyre-lifter and
bashed a hole in the tank, letting the petrol run out half
on to the road and half into the spare can. By this
method I managed to refill the can, and the rest of the
petrol ran off. Two gallons, however, should take us to
the first British station in the Khyber Pass.

On we went, and found that according to instructions
the Dacca officials had duly telephoned down to their
Frontier outpost, telling them to let us through without
inspection and delay. We waved to them, and the sentry
presented arms, letting us through. Just after that, we
ran out of petrol again, and did an extra rapid fill-up
from the spare. Ahead was the last Afghan sentry, out-
side the Government Telegraph Office, and a hundred
yards beyond, the gate of the Frontier. And the sun
was still lingering behind the nearby hills.

The gate lifted and we were through. The Indian
sentry saluted, and we sighed in relief. That cool bath,
that long drink in the Peshawar Club, seemed very close.

The bdbu in charge of the British Frontier post came
out, looked at our passports, and retired into his office.
Another babu appeared. Then came the shattering blow,
the incredible anti-climax. We were to go back.

" Sir," said the babu, choosing his words and revelling
in his authority, " Sir, it is too late. It is after six
o'clock."

I showed him my watch. It marked five o'clock.

" Sir," said the babu. " That is wrong. That is no
doubt Kabul time."

We protested, raved, tried bribery, imploded,
threatened.

" Sij^" said the babu, " you must go back."

I dsfiianded the right to go to the Khyber Control
Office in Landi Jthana^ four miles up the $oad-

1955