Yet another scene in the tragedy remains to be told. It is a cold bleak
day in early winter. On one side stand the blackened, bullet-riddled
ruins of the Residency, much as we saw them last. To the left, drawn up
as a guard, is a long double line of British soldiers with, bayonets
fixed. Behind them, covering every coign of vantage, every roof and
wall, are crowds of Afghans, silent, subdued, and expectant. In the
centre, in an open space, stands a little group of British officers, one
of whom holds a paper from which he reads. Facing the ruined Residency
is a long grim row of gallows; below these, bound hand and foot and
closely guarded is a row of prisoners. A signal is given, and from
every gibbet swings what lately was a man. These are the ringleaders in
the insensate tragedy, who, brought to justice by the strong resistless
power of British bayonets, hang facing the scene of their infamy, for a
sign throughout the length and breadth of Asia of the righteous fate
that overtakes those who disgrace the law of nations.
CHAPTER IX
THE AFGHAN WAR, 1878-80
The Afghan War of 1878-80 lives chiefly in the memory of all as
connected with the rise to fame of one who has since earned a place in
English history with Marlborough and Wellington. And coupled with his
name remains indelibly engraved the great historic march from Kabul to
Kandahar.
Though they took no part in that celebrated march, being so reduced in
numbers by the stress of war after two years' arduous campaigning that
fresh regiments took their place, yet the Guides look back with the
greatest pride to having once served under Lord Roberts, and to having
earned the kindly praise of this great Captain.
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