Ibam forte via sacra.--HORACE.
The town and cantonment of Nowshera was the base from which all the
operations of the Malakand Field Force were conducted. It is situated
on the India side of the Cabul River and is six hours by rail from Rawal
Pindi. In times of peace its garrison consists of one native cavalry
regiment, one British, and one native infantry battalion. During the
war these troops were employed at the front. The barracks became great
hospitals. The whole place was crowded with transport and military
stores; and only a slender force remained under the orders of Colonel
Schalch, the Base Commandant.
The road from Nowshera to the Malakand Pass and camps is forty-seven
miles long, and divided into four stages. Usually there is an excellent
tonga service, and the distance is covered in about six hours; but
while the Field Force was mobilised so much traffic and so many officers
passed up and down the line, that the tonga ponies were soon reduced to
a terrible condition of sores and emaciation, and could hardly drag the
journey out in nine, ten, or even twelve hours. After leaving Nowshera,
and crossing the Cabul River, a stage of fifteen miles brings the
traveller to Mardan. This place--pronounced "Merdane"--is the permanent
station of the Corps of Guides. It is shady and agreeable, though
terribly hot in the summer months. It boasts an excellent polo ground
and a comfortable rest-house. The passer-by should pause to see the
Guides' cemetery, perhaps the only regimental cemetery in the world. To
this last resting-place under the palm trees, close to the fields where
they have played, and the barracks in which they lived, have been borne
the bodies of successive generations of these wardens of the marches,
killed in action across the frontier line. It is a green and pleasant
spot. Nor is there any place in the world where a soldier might lie in
braver company.
After Mardan the road becomes more dusty, and the surrounding country
barren and arid. [This description applies to the autumn season. In the
winter and spring the country for a time is green and the air cold.]
The mountains are approached, and as the tonga advances their shapes and
colours are more distinctly seen. A few knolls and ridges rising
from the level plain, mark the outposts of that great array of hills.
Crossing a shallow stream--a tributary of the Cabul River, Jalala, the
second stage is reached. In peace time a small mud fort is the
only indication, but this is expanded by the proximity of war to a
considerable camp, with an entrenchment around it. Stopping only to
change ponies, for it is a forsaken spot, the journey is resumed. The
avenue of trees on either side has ceased. The road is seen simply as
a white streak stretching towards the mountains. It is traversed in a
sweltering heat and choking dust. All around the country is red, sterile
and burnt up. In front the great wall of hills rises dark and ominous.
At length Dargai at the foot of the pass is reached. It is another
mud fort, swelled during the operations into an entrenched camp, and
surrounded by a network of barbed wire entanglement. The Malakand Pass
can now be seen--a great cleft in the line of mountains--and far up the
gorge, the outline of the fort that guards it, is distinguishable.
The graded road winds up, with many a turn, the long ascent from Dargai
to the top of the pass. The driver flogs the wretched, sore-backed
ponies tirelessly. At length the summit is neared. The view is one worth
stopping to look at. Behind and below, under the haze of the heat, is
the wide expanse of open country--smooth, level, stretching away to the
dim horizon. The tonga turns the corner and enters a new world. A
cooler breeze is blowing. A single step has led from peace to war; from
civilisation to savagery; from India to the mountains. On all sides the
landscape is wild and rugged. Ridge succeeds ridge. Valley opens into
valley. As far as the eye can reach in every direction are ragged peaks
and spurs. The country of the plains is left, and we have entered a
strange land, as tangled as the maze at Hampton Court, with mountains
instead of hedges. So broken and so confused is the ground, that I
despair of conveying a clear impression of it.
The Malakand is like a great cup, of which the rim is broken into
numerous clefts and jagged points. At the bottom of this cup is the
"crater" camp. The deepest cleft is the Malakand Pass. The highest of
the jagged points is Guides Hill, on a spur of which the fort stands.
It needs no technical knowledge to see, that to defend such a place, the
rim of the cup must be held. But in the Malakand, the bottom of the cup
is too small to contain the necessary garrison. The whole position is
therefore, from the military point of view, bad and indefensible. In the
revised and improved scheme of defence, arrangements have been made,
to command the available approaches, and to block such as cannot be
commanded with barbed wire entanglements and other obstructions; and by
a judicious system of works much of the rim is now held. But even now
I am told by competent judges that the place is a bad one for defence;
that the pass could be held by the fort alone, and that the brigade
stationed there would be safer and equally useful, if withdrawn to
Dargai. At the time this story opens the Malakand South Camp was an
impossible place to put troops in. It was easy of access. It was cramped
and commanded by neighbouring heights. [Under the arrangements which
have been made since the war, the Malakand position and the works at
Chakdara and Dargai will be held by two battalions and some details.
These will be supported by a flying column, the exact location and
composition of which are as yet undetermined.]
The small area of the camp on the Kotal necessitated the formation of a
second encampment in the plain of Khar. This was close under the
north outer edge of the cup. It was called for political reasons North
Malakand. As a military position it, also, was radically bad. It was
everywhere commanded, and surrounded by ravines and nullahs, which made
it easy for an enemy to get in, and difficult for troops to get out.
It was, of course, of no strategic value, and was merely used as a
habitation for the troops intended to hold Malakand, for whom there was
no room in the crater and fort. The north camp has now been definitely
abandoned.
Nobody, however--least of all those who selected the site--would seem
to have contemplated the possibility of an attack. Indeed the whole
situation was regarded as purely temporary. The vacillation, caused
by the change of parties and policies in England, led to the Malakand
garrison remaining for two years in a position which could not be well
defended either on paper or in reality. At first, after the Chitral
campaign of 1895, it was thought that the retention of the brigade in
this advanced post, was only a matter of a few weeks. But as the months
passed by the camp began, in spite of the uncertainty, to assume an
appearance of permanency. The officers built themselves huts and mess
rooms. A good polo ground was discovered near Khar, and under careful
management rapidly improved. A race-course was projected. Many officers
who were married brought their wives and families to the camp among
the mountains, and the whole place was rapidly becoming a regular
cantonment. No cases of Ghazi outrage broke the tranquillity. The
revolvers, which all persons leaving camp were by regulations obliged
to take, were either unloaded or carried by a native groom. Shooting
parties were organised to the hills. A well-contested polo tournament
was held in Christmas week. Distinguished travellers--even a member of
Parliament--visited this outpost of empire, and observed with interest
the swiftness and ease with which the Anglo-Saxon adapts every situation
to his sports and habits.
At the same time the station of the Malakand Brigade was far from being
a comfortable one. For two years they lived under canvas or in rude
huts. They were exposed to extremes of climate. They were without
punkahs or ice in the hot weather. They were nearly fifty miles from
the railway, and in respect of companionship and amusements were thrown
entirely on their own resources. When the British cavalry officer
succeeds, in spite of official opposition, expense and discouragement,
in getting on service across the frontier, he is apt to look with
envious eyes at the officers of the Frontier Force, who are taken as a
matter of course and compelled to do by command, what he would solicit
as a favour. But he must remember that this is their compensation for
long months of discomfort and monotony in lonely and out-of-the-way
stations, and for undergoing hardships which, though honourable and
welcome in the face of the enemy, become obnoxious in times of peace.
After crossing the Malakand Pass the first turning to the right leads
to the Swat Valley. The traveller is now within the mountains. In every
direction the view is restricted or terminated by walls of rock. The
valley itself is broad, level and fertile. The river flows swiftly
through the middle. On either side of it, is a broad strip of rice
fields. Other crops occupy the drier ground. Numerous villages, some of
which contain large populations, are scattered about. It is a beautiful
scene. The cool breezes of the mountains temper the heat of the sun. The
abundant rains preserve the verdure of the earth.
In ancient times this region was the seat of a Buddhistic kingdom,
and was known as Woo-Chang or "Udyana," which means "the Park," and
proclaims the appreciation which its former possessors had of their
pleasant valley. "The people," says the Chinese pilgrim Fa-hien, who
visited the country in the fifth century, "all use the language of
Central India, 'Central India' being what we should call the 'Middle
Kingdom.' The food and clothes of the common people are the same as
in that Central Kingdom. The law of Buddha is very flourishing in
Woo-Chang." "The Park," which includes all the country on both banks of
the Swat River--then called the Subhavastu--but which perhaps applies
more particularly to the upper end of the valley, was famous for its
forests, flowers and fruit. But though the valley retains much of its
beauty, its forests have been destroyed by the improvidence, and its
flowers and fruit have declined through the ignorance, of the fierce
conquerors into whose hands it fell.
The reputation which its present inhabitants enjoy is evil. Their
treacherous character has distinguished them even among peoples
notoriously faithless and cruel. Among Pathans it is a common saying:
"Swat is heaven, but the Swatis are hell-fiends." For many years they
had lain under the stigma of cowardice, and were despised as well as
distrusted by the tribes of the border; but their conduct in the recent
fighting has cleared them at least from this imputation.
Several minor chieftains now divide authority in the Swat Valley, but
till 1870 it was governed by a single ruler. The Ahkund of Swat was by
origin a cowherd, an office considered most honourable in India. The
cow is a sacred beast. His service is acceptable to the Gods and men.
Princes glory in the name--though they do not usually carry their
enthusiasm further. "Guicowar" translated literally means "cowherd."
From such employment the future Ahkund received his inspiration. He sat
for many years by the banks of the Indus, and meditated. Thus he became
a saint. The longer his riparian reflections were continued, the greater
his sanctity became. The fame of his holiness spread throughout all the
region. The Swatis besought him to come and live in their valley. After
dignified and diplomatic reluctance, he consented to exchange the banks
of the Indus for those of the Swat. For some years, he lived in the
green valley, and enjoyed the reverence of its people. At the time of
the great mutiny, Said Akbar, the King of Swat, died, and the saint
succeeded to the temporal as well as the spiritual authority. In 1863
he preached the Jehad against the British, and headed the Swatis
and Bunerwals in the Ambeyla campaign. The power which the Sirkar so
extravagantly displayed to bring the war to an end, evidently impressed
the old man, for at its close he made friends with the Government and
received from them many tokens of respect.
Before he died in 1870, he summoned his people around him and declared
to them that one day their valley would be the scene of a struggle
between the Russians and the British. When that came to pass he charged
them to fight on our side. The saying is firmly fixed in the hearts of
the tribesmen, and is associated with the memory of their famous priest,
known to English minds chiefly through the medium of the "Bab Ballads."
His two sons are dead, but his two grandsons, [the Mianguls of Swat]
both quite young, live on in the valley, and are the owners of the
Ahkund's freeholds, which are in every section of the Swat country. They
have very little political influence; but their persons and property
are respected by the people and by the British for the sake of their
grandfather, who sleeps in an odour of sanctity at Saidu, near Mingaora.
From the Malakand the signal tower of Chakdara can be seen eight miles
away to the eastward. Thither the broad graded road runs like a ribbon
across the plain. Seven miles from the Kotal Camp, it crosses the
Amandara Pass, a gap in a considerable underfeature, which juts from the
southern mountains. After this it turns more to the north and leads to
the fortified bridge across the river. I invite the reader to remark
this road, for it is historic. It is not only the route by which the
Malakand Field Force was able to advance, but it is the very reason of
their existence. Without this road there would have been no Malakand
Camps, no fighting, no Malakand Field Force, no story. It is the road to
Chitral.
Here then, at once, the whole vast question of frontier policy is
raised. We hold the Malakand Pass to keep the Chitral road open. We
keep the Chitral road open because we have retained Chitral. We retain
Chitral in accordance with the "Forward Policy." I am thus confronted at
the very outset of this book, which was intended to be devoted chiefly
to the narration of military events and small incidents, with that wide
political question, on which the keenest intellects in England are in
doubt, and the most valuable expert evidence in India is divided.
The reader must not think me pusillanimous or weak if I postpone the
discussion of so great and controversial a matter till a later chapter,
when I may perhaps enjoy a larger measure of his sympathy and agreement.
After the story has been told, it may not be inappropriate to point the
moral.
Prudence encourages procrastination. But while the consideration of the
advisability of the retention of Chitral may be deferred, a description
of the means is convenient, if not necessary, to the present chapter.
Nowshera is the railway base of the road. Thence we have followed it
to Mardan and across the frontier. Here the new and disputed portion
begins. Passing at first through the Lower Ranizai country, it climbs
the Malakand Pass, descends into the valley beyond and runs thence
through Upper Ranizai territory and Lower Swat to Chakdara. Here it
crosses the Swat River by the fine suspension bridge which the fort
guards. The three spans of this bridge are together nearly 1500 feet
long. It was constructed in 1895, during the operations, in about six
weeks, and is a very remarkable piece of military engineering. Beyond
the Swat the road runs through the territories of the Khan of Dir, north
and east to Sadu, an obscure village thirty-five miles from Malakand.
This marks the end of the first section, and further than this wheeled
traffic cannot go. The road, now become a camel track, winds along the
left bank of the Panjkora River to within five miles of Dir, where
it crosses to the right bank by another suspension bridge. Thence it
continues to the junction of the Dir stream, along which it finds its
way to Dir itself, some fifty miles from Sadu. Beyond Dir camels cannot
proceed, and here begins the third section--a path practicable only for
mules, and about sixty miles long. From Dir the road is a triumph of
engineering. In many places it is carried on wooden galleries perched on
the faces of steep and tremendous cliffs, and at others it works round
spurs by astounding zig-zags, or is scarped from the mountain side. At
the end of the road is Fort Chitral with a garrison of two battalions,
one company of sappers, and two mountain guns.
The road is maintained and protected by the tribes through whose
territories it passes; but the two principal points where it might be
closed are held by Imperial garrisons. The Malakand Fort guards the
passage of the mountains. Chakdara holds the bridge across the river.
The rest is left to the tribal levies. The Ranizai tribe receive an
annual subsidy from the Indian Government of 30,000 rupees, out of which
they maintain 200 irregulars armed with Sniders, and irreverently
called by the British officers, "Catch-'em-alive-Os." These drive away
marauders and discourage outrage and murder. The Khan of Dir, through
whose territory the road runs for seventy-three miles, also receives a
subsidy from Government of 60,000 rupees, in consideration of which he
provides 400 irregulars for its service.
Until the great rising these arrangements worked admirably. The
tribesmen interested in the maintenance of the route, were most
reluctant to engage in hostilities against the Government. The Lower
Ranizais, south of Malakand, abstained altogether. The elders of the
tribe collected all the arms of their hot-headed youths, and forbade
them to attack the troops. The Upper Ranizais were nearer the scene of
the disturbance, and were induced by superstition and fear to join
the Mullah; but very half-heartedly. The Swatis were carried away
by fanaticism. The Khan of Dir throughout behaved loyally, as he is
entirely dependent on British support, and his people realise the
advantages of the subsidy.
If the road is interesting its story is more so, and a summary of the
events and causes which have led to its construction, may also throw
some light on the political history and methods of the border tribes.
The uncertainty and insecurity of their power, has always led petty
chiefs to seek the support of some powerful suzerain. In 1876 the Mehtar
of Chitral, Aman-ul-Mulk, was encouraged to seek the protection, and
become the vassal of our vassal, the Maharaja of Cashmere. In accordance
with the general scheme of advance, then already adopted by the Indian
Government, a British agency was at once established at Gilgit on the
Chitral-Cashmere frontier. Aman-ul-Mulk was presented with a certain
supply of arms and ammunition, and an annual subsidy of 6000 rupees,
afterwards raised to 12,000 rupees. The British thus obtained an
interest in Chitral, and a point of observation on its borders. In 1881
the agency was withdrawn, but the influence remained, and in 1889 it was
re-established with a much larger garrison. Meanwhile Aman-ul-Mulk ruled
in Chitral, showing great respect to the wishes of the Government, and
in the enjoyment of his subsidy and comparative peace. But in 1892
he died, leaving many sons, all equally ferocious, ambitious and
unscrupulous. One of these, Afzal by name, though not the eldest or
acknowledged heir, had the good fortune to be on the spot. He seized the
reins of power, and having murdered as many if his brothers as he could
catch, proclaimed himself Mehtar, and invited the recognition of the
Indian Government. He was acknowledged chief, as he seemed to be "a
man of courage and determination," and his rule afforded a prospect of
settled government. Surviving brothers fled to neighbouring states.
Nizam, the eldest, came to Gilgit and appealed to the British. He got
no help. The blessing had already been bestowed. But in November, 1892,
Sher Afzul, a brother of the late Aman, returned by stealth to Chitral,
whence fraternal affection had driven him, and killed the new Mehtar and
another brother, both of whom were his nephews. The "wicked uncle" then
ascended the throne, or its equivalent. He was, however, opposed. The
Indian Government refused to recognise him. Nizam, at Gilgit, urged his
claims, and was finally allowed to go and try to regain his inheritance.
The moral support of 250 Cashmere rifles brought him many adherents. He
was joined by the people. It was the landing of William of Orange on a
reduced scale, and with Cashmere troops instead of Dutch Guards. Twelve
hundred men sent by Sher Afzul to oppose him, deserted to his side. The
avuncular usurper, realising that it might be dangerous to wait longer,
fled to Afghanistan, as James II had fled to France, was received by the
ruler with hospitality, and carefully preserved as an element of future
disorder.
Nizam now became Mehtar according to his desire. But he did not greatly
enjoy his power, and may have evolved some trite reflections on the
vanity of earthly ambition. From the first he was poor and unpopular.
With the support of the Government of India, however, he managed to
maintain a weak, squalid rule for a space. To give him countenance,
and in accordance with the Policy, Captain Younghusband was sent to the
country with a hundred bayonets. The Gilgit garrison was increased by
a battalion, and several posts were established between that place and
Mastuj.
Thus the Imperial forces had entered Chitral. Their position was soon to
become one of danger. They were separated from Gilgit by many miles of
bad road, and warlike tribesmen. To move troops from Gilgit would always
be slow and difficult. Another route was however possible, the route I
have described--a route northwards from Peshawar through Dir--shorter
and easier, starting from British territory and the railway. Towards
this line of communication the Indian Government now looked. If British
troops or agents were to be retained in Chitral, if in other words their
recognised policy was to be continued, this route must be opened up.
They sounded the Home Government. Lord Kimberley replied, deprecating
increase of responsibilities, of territory and expenditure, and
declining to pledge himself to support such a scheme. At the same time
he sanctioned the temporary retention of the troops, and the agent, in
the hopes of strengthening Nizam. [Despatch from Secretary of State,
No.34, 1st Sept., 1893.]
At this point Umra Khan must enter the story. The Gilgit agency report,
dated 28th April, 1890, speaks of this chief, who was the Khan of
Jandul, but whose influence pervaded the whole of Bajaur as "the most
important man between Chitral and Pashawar." To this powerful ruler,
another of the sons of Aman, named Amir, had fled from the family
massacre which followed his father's death. Umra Khan protected him
and determined to turn him to his own advantage. In May, 1894, this
youth--he was about twenty years of age--returned to Chitral, professing
to have escaped from the hands of Umra Khan. He was kindly received by
Nizam, who seems to have been much hampered throughout his career by his
virtue. On 1st January, 1895, Amir availed himself of his welcome, to
murder his brother, and the principal members of the Chitral Cabinet.
He proclaimed himself Mentar and asked for recognition. The Imperial
officers, though used to frontier politics, refused to commit themselves
to any arrangement with such a villain, until the matter had been
considered in India.
Umra Khan now advanced with a large force to the head of the Chitral
Valley, nominally to assist his dear friend and ally, Amir, to
consolidate his rule, really in the hopes of extending his own
territories. But Amir, knowing Umra well, and having won his kingdom,
did not desire to share it. Fighting ensued. The Chitrals were beaten.
As he could not make any use of Amir, Umra Khan invited the wicked uncle
to return. Sher Afzul accepted. A bargain was struck. Sher Afzul claimed
to be made Mehtar, Umra supported his claims. Both threatened force in
the event of opposition.
But the Imperial Government rose in wrath, refused to have anything
to do with the new claimant, informed him that his language was
impertinent, and warned Umra Khan to leave Chitral territory forthwith
or take the consequences. The answer was war. The scanty garrisons and
scattered parties of British troops were attacked. A company of the
14th Sikhs was cut to pieces. Lieutenants Fowler and Edwards were taken
prisoners. Fort Chitral, into which the rest of the Chitral mission and
their escort had thrown themselves, was closely and fiercely besieged.
To rescue them was imperative. The 1st Division of the Field Army was
mobilised. A force of nearly 16,000 men crossed the frontier on the 1st
April, from Mardan, to advance to the relief by the shortest route--the
route through Swat and Dir--the line of the present Chitral road. The
command of the expedition was confided to Sir Robert Low. Sir Bindon
Blood was Chief of the Staff.
So far the tale has been of the steady increase of British influence, in
accordance with an avowed and consistent policy--primarily in Chitral,
and ultimately throughout the border tribes. One movement has been
followed by another. All have been aimed at a common end. Now suddenly
we are confronted with an act by which the Government of India with open
eyes placed an obstacle in the path, which they had so long pursued, to
follow which they had made so many efforts themselves and demanded
so many sacrifices from their subjects. Perhaps from compunction, but
probably to soothe the Liberal Government, by appearing to localise the
disturbances, and disclaiming any further acquisition of territory,
they issued a proclamation to "all the people of Swat and the people
of Bajaur, who do not side with Umra Khan," in which they declared that
they had "no intention of permanently occupying any territory through
which Umra Khan's misconduct" might "force them to pass, or of
interfering with the independence of the tribes." [Proclamation, 14th
March, 1895.]
If this proclamation was intended for political purposes in England,
it, from one point of view, succeeded most admirably, for there has been
nearly as much written about it as about all the soldiers who have
been killed and wounded in the war. It had, however, no effect upon the
tribesmen, who were infuriated by the sight if the troops and paid no
attention to the protestations of the Government. Had they watched
with care the long, steady, deliberate advance, which I have so briefly
summarised; had they read the avowed and recorded determination of the
Indian Administration "to extend and, by degrees, to consolidate their
influence" [Letter from Government of India, No.407, 28th February,
1879.] in the whole drainage system of the Indus, they might have
even doubted their sincerity. Instead, and being unable to make fine
distinctions, they saw only invasion in the military movements.
They gathered accordingly, to oppose the advance of the troops. To the
number of 12,000 they occupied the Malakand Pass--a tremendous position.
From this they were driven with great slaughter on the 3rd of April, by
the two leading brigades of Sir Robert Low's force. Further operations
resulted in the passage of the Swat and Panjkora Rivers being effected.
The road to Chitral was open. The besiegers of the fort fled, and a
small relieving force was able to push through from Gilgit under Colonel
Kelly. Umra Khan fled to Afghanistan, and the question of future policy
came before the Government of India.
Two alternatives presented themselves: either they must "abandon the
attempt to keep up any effective control" over Chitral, or they must put
a sufficient garrison there. In pursuance of their recognised policy,
the Council decided unanimously that to maintain British influence in
Chitral was "a matter of first importance." In a despatch [Despatch of
Government of India, No.240, 8th May, 1895.] to the Home Government they
set forth all their reasons, and at the same time declared that it
was impossible to garrison Chitral without keeping up the road from
Peshawar, by which the Relief force had advanced.
On the 13th of June Lord Rosebery's Cabinet replied decisively, with
courage if not with wisdom, that "no military force or European agent
should be kept at Chitral, that Chitral should not be fortified, and
that no road should be made between Peshawar and Chitral." By this they
definitely and finally repudiated the policy which had been consistently
followed since 1876. They left Chitral to stew in its own juice. They
over-ruled the Government of India. It was a bold and desperate attempt
to return to the old frontier line. The Indian Government replied: "We
deeply regret but loyally accept decision," and began to gather up the
severed strings of their policy and weave another web.
But in the nick of time the Liberal Administration fell, and Lord
Salisbury's Cabinet reversed their decision. It is interesting, in
reading the Blue Books on Indian questions, to watch the emotions
of party principles, stirring beneath the uniform mask of official
responsibility--which the most reckless of men are compelled to wear as
soon as they become ministers. The language, the style, the tone of the
correspondence is the same. It is always a great people addressing and
instructing their pro-consuls and administrators. But the influence
inclines backwards and forwards as the pendulum of politics swings. And
as the swing in 1895 was a very great one, a proportionate impulse was
given to the policy of advance. "It seemed" to the new ministry "that
the policy... continuously pursued by successive Governments ought
not to be lightly abandoned unless its maintenance had become clearly
impossible." [Despatch, Secretary of State, No.30, 16th Aug., 1895.]
Thus the retention of Chitral was sanctioned, and the road which that
retention necessitated was completed.
I approach with nervousness so great a matter as the "Breach of Faith"
question. In a book devoted chiefly to the deeds of soldiers it seems
almost presumptuous to discuss an affair which involves the political
honour of statesmen. In their unnecessary and gratuitous proclamation
the Government of India declared, that they had no intention of
interfering with the tribes, or of permanently occupying any territory,
the troops might march through; whereas now they do interfere with
the tribesmen, and have established garrisons at Dargai, Malakand and
Chakdara, all of which are in the territory through which the troops
passed. But it takes two to make a bargain or a breach of faith. The
tribes took no notice of the proclamation. They did not understand it.
They did not believe it. Where there is no faith there can be no
breach of faith. The border peoples resisted the advance. That position
annulled the proclamation, and proved that it was not credited by the
tribesmen. They do not think they have been tricked. They do not regard
the road as a "breach of faith." What they do regard it as, is a menace
to their independence, and a prelude to annexation. Nor are they wrong.
Looking at the road, as I have seen it, and have tried to describe it,
running broad and white across the valley; at the soldiers moving
along it; at the political officers extending their influence in all
directions; at the bridge and fort of Chakdara; and at the growing
cantonment on the Malakand Pass, it needs no education to appreciate its
significance. Nor can any sophistry obscure it.