They were, in truth, fighting for dear life. And there was a chance of it ahead of them; for, nigh the top of the great Zerrin pa.s.s, lay a cave wherein shelter might be found. At least so said Binai the guide.

But the snow fell in such quant.i.ties, the wind was so dreadful, so terribly violent, it needed all Babar's courage not to give in.

But the rosy fluttering wings of Love would not let him yield. He could not lose little cousin Ma'asuma. The very thought of her warmed him; the scent of her hair came to him with the snow.

The drifts deepened, the possibility of path narrowed in the steep defile, the days were at the shortest, with difficulty could the horses be kept on the trampled road, yet all around was certain death in unfathomed snow-depths.

Babar's face was stern. He was nigh his end, and he knew it.

And then, suddenly, a shout from keen-eyed Tengari, old Kasim's son.

"The cave! The cave! Yonder is the cave."

And it was; but to all appearance disappointingly small. Not large enough to hold one-half of those seeking shelter, though the surrounding cliffs in some measure tempered the bitter fierceness of the wind.

"The Most High had better go in," said Kasim, as Babar set to work arranging what best he could for his troopers. "I will see to the men."

But Babar shook his head and went on. He felt that for him to be in warmth and comfort while his men were in snow and drift, for him to be enjoying sleep and ease while his followers were in trouble and distress would be inconsistent from what he owed them and a deviation from that society in suffering that was their due.

"'Death in the company of friends is a feast.' At any rate, so runs the proverb," he remarked lightly. "And indeed, Kasim, having brought these poor souls to this pa.s.s, it is but right that whatever their sufferings and difficulties, whatever they may have to undergo, I should be equal sharer in all."

So when he had done what he could and shown others what to do, he took a hoe and dug down in the snow as deep as his breast without reaching the ground, then crouched down in it. The day was darkening, evening prayer time had pa.s.sed, and still belated troopers came dropping in.

The snow was now falling so fast that the men in the dug-out shelter ran some chance of being smothered as they slept from sheer fatigue.

Babar himself found four inches of snow above him as he scrambled out of his hole when a last party straggled in, bringing Binai the guide, with the welcome news that the cave was far larger than hasty observation would expect, and that a narrow pa.s.sage led to quite a s.p.a.cious cavern within where there was ample room for all.

Joyful news indeed! Sending out to call in all his men, Babar soon found himself, by one of his own extraordinary changes of luck, in a wonderfully warm, safe, and comfortable place. For there proved to be firewood within the cave, and such as had any eatables, stewed meat, preserved flesh, or anything else they might have, produced them for a common meal. Thus all escaped, as by a miracle, from the terrible cold, the snow, the bitter, bitter wind.

And the rosy wings of Love fluttered gaily, as Babar laid himself down to sleep--the first sleep he had had for days.

It was the turning point; though there was still distress and misery to come.

The snow, however, had ceased to fall by the morning, the wind had died down. Moving with the first blink of dawn they still had to tread down the snow in the old way: but it was with more hope. The cave in which they had rested was, as they were aware, close to the beginning of the last steep ascent to the Great Pa.s.s. This, the shortest way, they knew to be impa.s.sable, and even Kasim and his sons, warned by experience, did not advise its attempt. Bad enough was a lower valley road of which old Binai the guide had vaguely heard. Yet it was their only chance, so they took it. But evening found them still in the defile; and such was its precipitate nature, that there was nothing for it but for every man to halt where he found himself, dismount, sc.r.a.pe a hole in the snow for himself and his horse if possible, and so await the tardy dawn to bring sufficient light for safe advance. It was an awful night. The retreat of the storm had brought frost; icy, keen, piercing; and though none of the hardy troopers actually lost their lives, many lost hands and feet from frostbite. Babar himself kept his blood warm by pacing up and down, singing at the top of his voice with that curious instinct of shouting which comes always to humanity with the grip of cold. Mayhap it cheered the others to hear the mellow melodious chants echoing so blithely over the snow.

He sang many things, but his favourite was the

SONG OF THE SMILING SHEPHERD

From Sunset until Dawn-of-Day, My forehead frozen with the Frost, I shut mine eyes like Wolf-at-Bay And sing to find the Sheep I've lost.

When Angels walk at Break-of-Day Among pale wormwood on the lea, Upon the Night-of-Power, they say, My smiling soul came unto me.

It had a palace of pure gold In Paradise and yet it chose To leave the Heat-of-Heaven for Cold And help me find the Sheep I love.

So in the Dark and in the Snow We twain make up one Perfect-Whole And sing glad songs the while we go A Smiling-Shepherd, Smiling-Soul.

Dawn came at last and they moved down the glen. It was not the usual road,--that was more circuitous--but with the snow filling up the valley and obliterating precipices, ravines, creva.s.ses, there seemed a chance of being able to manage a shorter route, and time meant so much to those exhausted men.

Yet Babar himself halted for awhile, and so did a few of his immediate followers when his horse stumbled, fell, could not rise.

"Take mine, my liege," said half-a-dozen voices. But the young man's face set.

"I will not leave the beast," he said resolutely. "It hath done me good service and may do it again. See you! bring some of the men's lances and their halter ropes. Samur and I live together, or die together," and he laid his young cheek to the horse's soft muzzle affectionately.

Then starting up, he set the men to work to form a criss-cross raft or sledge of lances on to which Samur was pulled by main force.

"'Tis all down hill now," said he when it was finished, and seizing a rope strained at it.

"Nay! Sire!" remarked old Kasim drily--"If the Most Excellent choose to risk lives for the sake of a dumb brute, let them be the lives of dumb brutes, not Kings. Troopers! Six horses to save one!"

Babar hung his head, but held to the rope.

"Doubtless I am a brute also," he murmured half to himself, "so let me be dumb; save for this--G.o.d made me so!"

The staunch old warrior heard the words and shook his head. Yet in his heart of hearts he would not have altered one jot or one t.i.ttle in his idol. Zahir-ud-din Mahomed Babar was for him the first gentleman in the world.

"Truly," said the latter with pious cheerfulness after a time, during which the sledge slipped easily down the steep slopes of snow, "it is well said

'Looked at wisely with clear eyes Ills are blessings in disguise.'

But for this extreme depth of snow which till now hath seemed our worst enemy, we should all be tumbling down precipices and being lost in creva.s.ses."

This was obvious; but it cheered the party, until in the far distance something more tangible showed to bring sudden alacrity to outwearied steps.

A hut surely!

And that figure on the lessening snow slopes--was it a man?

Still it was nigh bed-time prayers before they extricated themselves from the mouth of the valley and the villagers of Yaka-Aulang came out to meet the forlorn party, to help, and even to carry, some of them into warm houses, and thereinafter to slaughter fat sheep for them, bring a superfluity of hay and gra.s.s for their horses, and abundance of wood to kindle their fires.

Once again Babar felt that to pa.s.s from the cold and snow into such a village with its warm houses, and to escape from want and suffering to find such plenty of good bread and fat sheep as they did, was an enjoyment that can only be conceived by such as have suffered similar hardships, or endured such heavy distress.

But better by far to him than this material satisfaction, was the glow at his heart when an old white-headed patriarch nodding by the fireside, mumbled--

"Never has it been done before, never since the memory of man hath Zerrin been pa.s.sed in such snow. Never hath any man ever conceived even the idea of pa.s.sing it at such season--Never! Never!"

It was something to have done! After this, marching was easy. But the strain had told upon the courage of the rank and file, and once when the little party came upon a clan of Hazaras who disputed pa.s.sage in a narrow defile, there was near disaster. The young King, who was in the rear, galloped up to find his force retreating before a deadly flight of arrows.

"Stand!" he shouted. "Stand!" But the men would not be rallied.

"Fools!" he cried, rising in his stirrups, a fine young figure, unarmoured, without sword or lance, without helmet or aught but his bow and quiver--for the attack was entirely unforeseen and he had been, for the time, off-duty--"Call ye yourselves servants to stand still while the master works? Lo! He who hires a servant hires him for his need; not to stand still like a slipped camel!"

So with a wild _huroosh!_ he set his horse spurring forward. The reckless bravery did its work. The men roused by it turned to follow.

The ambuscade was reached, the hill beyond climbed after the enemy, who, seeing the troopers were in real earnest, fled like deer. So the danger pa.s.sed; but Babar wondered vaguely that night if it was to be ever so; if the great ma.s.s of humanity ever needed a flaming match ere they would catch fire.

But there was more trouble to come, as, with such haste as was possible--for the snow which was very heavy that winter, hindered them even in the valleys--they pushed on towards Kabul.