he Bannu Mission Hospital, and how kind the feringis were to him.

Among Afghans a man's nearest relations are often his deadliest
enemies, and "he hates like a cousin" is a common expression. Thus
it came to pass that one day a wounded Afghan was brought to the
mission hospital on a bed borne of four, and examination showed
a serious condition. He had been shot at close quarters the night
before while returning to his house from the mosque after evening
prayers. The bullet had passed completely through the left side of
the chest, the left lung was collapsed, and the patient was blanched
and faint from the severe bleeding that had occurred. A compress
of charred cloth and yolk of egg had been applied, through which
the red stream was slowly trickling. He believed he had been shot
by his uncle, with whom he had a dispute about the possession of a
field, but had not seen his face clearly. A room was got ready, the
patient's blood-saturated garments were replaced by hospital linen,
and the wound was cleansed and dressed.

For a long time he hovered between life and death, constantly attended
by two brothers, who, if they had been as instructed as they were
assiduous, would have made two very excellent nurses. Gradually,
however, he recovered strength, and the wound healed; and one day
when visiting his ward I found him sitting up with a smile on his
face, and after the usual greetings, he said: "Please come to me,
Sahib; I have a request to make." I sat by his bedside, and asked
what I could do for him. He drew me closely to him, and said in a
subdued voice: "Sahib, I want you to get me some cartridges; see,
here are four rupees I have brought for them." "Why, what do you
want them for?" said I. "Look here," said he, pointing to the wound
in his chest; "here is this score to pay off. I am stronger now,
and in a few days I can go home and have my revenge."

I said to him deprecatingly: "Cannot you forego your revenge after all
the good counsels you have been hearing while in hospital? We have,
after so much trouble and nursing, cured you, and now, I suppose,
in a few days we shall be having your uncle brought here on a bed
likewise, and have to take the same trouble over him." "Don't fear
that, Sahib," was the prompt reply; "I am a better shot than he
is." Well, we never did have to deal with that uncle, though I never
gave him the cartridges; probably he got them elsewhere.

Another day a similar cortege came to the ho