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traitor was dead, and his death to do with it, and no evil inwas a good example to other traitors: there was no more to be said.

The trial of Makhmad occasioned no small interest in Daudabad and the district round it, as was testified by the crowd that had collected at the Kacheri on the opening day, on any pretext or on none, to talk the matter over and await the outcome. Through this crowd there came, while the day was still young, the tall figure of Khair Ali, quickly to be noted among the folk around by his great stature and his carriage. He came into the compound looking for some one in authority, and almost immediately he was met by the Political Tehsildar, the same who had been present at the fateful interview with Faiz Ullah many weeks before, and who had been apprised of Khair Ali's arrival by some underling of the department, who had recognised him the moment he appeared.

"Hah! Khair Ali," he said, as he reached him, "What are you doing here?"

"I want to speak with the Sahib. I have a word for him about Makhmad's oase."

"Aye, but in the meantime you are wanted for being in last month's raid. It is for the Sahib to give the word, but the order is out for your arrest, and the proof is clear."

"Very well," replied the young Pathan. "I know I shall be arrested for the raid, but I can bring witnesses to show that I had little enough


I came because I can say a word for Makhmad; and as for the raid, I would have given myself up long ago and stood my trial, but that I wanted to be free to come here to-day. Therefore, I say, take me to the Sahib."

The Tehsildar was glad enough to comply, for Khair Ali was one of whom little wrong was known. Calling a police sergeant to aot as guard, he led the way to the Deputy - Commissioner's office, and after stating his errand, ushered Khair Ali into his presence. He quickly proffered his request, and was as quickly granted it. He must be confined until he was wanted in the court, and his own case would be decided on after his evidence had been given. To that end, the Deputy - Commissioner made him tell the story of the raid, which he did truthfully and circumstantially, and he was then dismissed, to be called into the

court when wanted.

It was the second day of the trial. The case for the proseoution had been closed, and the charge of participation in the raid had been fully proved. Makhmad was a British subjeot, one of the many with property on both sides of the frontier, and he had been found in arms against the law. There was no defence. Thus the case stood when his cousin was called into the court.

As he came in, his eyes quickly ranged the room and fell on Makhmad. He looked pale and ill from his severe


wound, from which he had he alone, saved the soldier's hardly as yet fully recovered. life, and nearly lost his own Khair Ali passed close to him in the doing of it. He told as he was led to the witness- the Wazirs they were fools to box, and paused to reply to his kill the man, who would be exclamation of astonishment. worth much to them when "Salam Aliekum! Salam the expedition was over, and Makhmad! Are you well, are he won the old men to his you happy, are you joyful?" side; but the women had going through the protracted their say, for they love the form of salutation. "I have cruel sport that falls to come to say a word for you, them with the wounded and my brother. May Allah captured, and the young men prosper my way." clamoured for the white man's life, egged on by them. Who, they asked, was Makhmad to interfere with their councils? He answered that he was one who had led many a successful raid against the neighbouring tribes, and had helped them to beat off more than one such raid from without. He saved the white soldier's life, and in the end he was handed back, and the men of Killa Kalan got a reward for having spared him.

The police escort roughly checked his speech and took him on to his stand, where he told his story to the listening Sessions Judge who was trying the case.

"Sahib," he said, "you may not remember, but many in court to-day do, how that in the expedition in 19- a convoy was attacked and partly looted in the Spin Tangi. The tribesmen got away with some loot, and they captured as well British sergeant, who had fought hard for the stores in his charge. Now, Sahib, when those who had captured him got him back to their village, they were about to hand him over to the women to deal with. I need not tell you what that means. I was a boy at the time, and I was out with my cousin, Makhmad here, who had taken me to see the fighting from a distance as being good training for my youth. It happened that when the Englishman was brought into Killa Kalan, we were there for the night; and, Sahib-this I swear by the prophet, that Makhmad, and

"Sahib, that is my story, and the tale is true. Makhmad has raided, but he has never killed, except in self-defence. He is a true man, save for this one fault, and if he should swear to raid no more, his oath may indeed be trusted."

Such was the defence, and none other could have sucoeeded as well. The Judge gave the prisoner the heavy sentence his crime necessitated, but recommended him to mercy, and his case was brought up before that authority which could pardon or remit. Inquiry established the truth of Khair Ali's story, and it was felt that to make much of the sergeant's rescue

would be good policy, and in the end Makhmad found himself let off with the comparatively nominal sentence of six months' imprisonment.

As for Khair Ali's case, it was decided that it should be assessed by the tribal Jirgah, an old - established Frontier tribunal, to which many cases along the border can profitably be referred. It consists of the elders of a given section of the community, who have ways of finding out the truth of such cases which are not available to a more regularly constituted court. Their view of the case was purely tribal: Khair Ali had but set out to save his friends against a traitor, a creature hated and loathed as far as the border stretches. He was no raider at any time, as was well known. He had run a risk for no profit to himself. That he had fired on British subjects during the escape counted as nothing to the Jirgah, for had they not been firing at him? And Khair Ali left the court without a stain on his character.

Now it happened that the Deputy-Commissioner, a man

who had learnt in the years he had spent among the Frontier Pathans how to size them up with quick discrimination, had taken a great fancy to Khair Ali. He had heard his defence of Makhmad, and was struck and surprised at the straightforward way in which the tale was told. He had found a Pathan who had performed two altruistic deeds at no small risk to himself, and who had descended to no subterfuge to shield himself. The man's personality, too, was distinctly taking, and after some thought, and in consultation with his adviser, the Political Tehsildar, he caused a message to reach Khair Ali after his release that he would like to see him. Such a message from such a source brought the recipient in to Daudabad post-haste, and the frankly-conveyed offer of employment as a Subordinate in the Political Department-the best prize open to the better class of educated Pathan-was accepted with the gratitude only shown by the finer characters amongst Indians, of whatever race, on obtaining a benefit.



IN those old days at Brighthelmstone,
When art was half Chinese,

And Venus, dipped by Martha Gunn,
Came rosy from the seas;

When every dandy walked the Steyne
In something strange and new,
The Green Man,

The Green Man,

Made quite a how-dy-doo.

Green pantaloons, green waistcoat,
Green frock and green cravat,
Green gloves and green silk handkerchief,
Green shoes and tall green hat,-

He took the air in a green gig,

From eight o'clock till ten;

O, the Green Man,

The Green Man,

Was quite successful then.

And though, beneath that golden dome,
That Chinese pup of Paul's,

With snow and azure, rose and foam,
He danced at routs and balls,-
Though all the laughing flowers on earth
Around the room he'd swing,

The Green Man,

The Green Man,

Remained a leaf of Spring.

His rooms, they said, his chairs, his bed,

Were green as meadows are.

He dined on hearts of lettuces,
He wore an emerald star.
O, many a fep in blue and gold

His little hour might shine,
Till the Green Man,

The Green Man,

Came strutting up the Steyne.

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Alack, he reached it all too well.
Despite his will to fame,

Thenceforth he shone for beau and belle
By that ambiguous name;
So William White was quite forgot

By matren, fop, and maid;

Ay, White became

The Green Man

Became an April shade.

Now, even his green and ghostly gig,
The green whip in his hand,
The green lights in his powdered wig,
Are vanished from the land.

Green livery, darkling emerald star, ..
Not even their wraiths are seen.

And nobody knows

The Green Man,

Although his grave is green.

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