by piece the officers heard the strange story of the sudden
rising. It appears that while the officers of the Malakand garrison, in
days of profound peace, were playing polo down at Khar, a village three
miles away, the villagers came to them with a warning. They said that a
very holy mullah from Upper Swat was coming down the valley with a large
following to attack the Malakand, and advised the officers to get back
to their defences as soon as possible; they even assisted back the
grooms with the spare ponies. Yet these very same friendly villagers a
few hours later were caught in the frenzied flame of fanaticism, and
were charging with the most devoted bravery breastworks held by troops
commanded by the very officers whom they had just helped to save.

Amongst the officers playing polo were Lieutenants Rattray and Minchin,
who belonged to the garrison of Chakdara some seven or eight miles up
the Swat Valley. To return to their posts they had therefore to pass
right through the tide of armed men flowing down the valley in great
numbers. Yet as illustrating the chivalrous nature of the wild hillmen,
a trait somewhat unusual amongst the more fanatical Pathans, the
officers were allowed to pass unmolested, and indeed here and there a
friendly voice bade them make good speed home. The British officer's
custom of being out and about doing something, instead of sitting
permanently at home studying or playing chess, stood him in good stead
on this occasion, giving, as it proved, a good four hours' warning in
advance.

It was not till after ten o'clock at night that the carefully planned
attacks on the Malakand and Chakdara were delivered simultaneously by
great swarms of tribesmen, with a resolution and bravery worthy of the
highest admiration. At the Malakand there were many anxious moments, for
the position was an extended one, and, by the nature of the ground,
difficult for a small garrison to preserve from penetration. It was a
night of individual heroism, a soldier's battle, where little knots of
men under their officers fought independently, and with undiminished
courage, though often cut off from all communication. No less brave was
the enemy, and it was not until dawn that he reluctantly withdrew. This
was the first of five nights and days through which the British garrison
had to stand this stern ordeal.

The first thing to be done when daylight made concerted movements
possible, was to contract the perimeter of d