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have learnt from the East to think no scenery complete, abound in the upper part at the close of spring. Altogether Nature has 80 smiled on Bunnoo that the stranger thinks it a paradise." (Sir H. Edwardes, in 'A Year on the Punjab Frontier,' published in 1850.)

The administrative district of Bannu lies between the rocky hills of Kohat (Koh is the Persian for mountain, and the word Kohat describes the country, which is a tangled mass of ravines and hills) and the plains of Dera Ismail Khan, which stretch between the Indus and the Suleiman Range. Bannu district is, roughly, shaped like a triangle, the apex of which points to the west, the base being along the Indus. At the apex enters the Kurram River, which, rising in the Afghan mountains south of Kabul and then traversing the Kurram Valley, touches our (former) outpost at Thal, in the Kohat district, and then plunges into a wild mountainous region for 20 miles, emerging again at Bannu, to fertilise with its waters the fruitful valley, before finally joining the main stream of the Indus. Tributaries from the mountains join the Kurram River from both sides, and each in turn helps to contribute to the possibilities of irrigation and the operations of the husbandman. Evidently from ancient times the valley was known for its fertility, for an ancient mound called Accra has yielded many coins of Græco Bactrian origin, precious stones, and

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domestic utensils, telling of the days when Alexander the Great colonised this part of the world with those who brought with them Western art.

As regards the people, Sir H. Edwardes writes: "The Bunnoochees are bad specimens of Afghans.

Could worse be

said of any human race? They have all the vices of the Pathans rankly luxuriant, the virtues stunted. The introduction of Indian cultivators from the Punjab, and the settlement of numerous low Hindoos in the valley, have contributed by intermarrying, slave - dealing, and vice, to complete the mongrel character of the Bunnoo people.'

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So much for the inhabitants of the valley. The mountains both to the north-west and south-west of the triangle are inhabited mainly by the great clan of Waziris, divided into two main sections, the Darwesh Khels to the north and the Mahsuds to the south, these again subdivided into numerous septs, all of common origin and usually bitterly hostile to each other.

There is nothing mongrel about their character or origin. They are frankly and typically robbers,-brave, hardy, resolute men, but cruel, merciless, and savage.

I think it was Mr Archibald Forbes, the eminent war-correspondent, who said that if men were a little lower than the angels, the lowest and farthest place from angelic status would be taken by the Pathans. This may be a little hard on the race, who probably are much the same as highland

robbers in most parts of the Edwardes to go to the valley and there make a financial settlement, amicably if possible -a fairly formidable task for a British subaltern, or indeed for any one, considering that the tribesmen had for twentyfive years successfully defied Runjeet Singh, "The Lion of the Punjab," as he was called.

world, especially in countries where the creed of the warrior gives a certain sanction to highway robbery; but in any case most Pathans would agree that of all the tribes or sections of their countrymen, the lowest place, in respect of sheer devilry, would be taken by the Waziris in general, and the Mahsuds in particular.

Such was the place and such were the people among whom Theodore Pennell worked, and on whom his personality exercised such a fascination. He, however, was not the first Englishman to influence these people, and before dwelling more particularly on him it is necessary to say something about others.

It was in 1847 that an Englishman first entered on the scene. The first Sikh war had ended in the British Government taking over the charge of the Sikh kingdom of the Punjab, administering it in the name of the infant Maharajah Dhuleep Singh, and in place of the corrupt factions that had intrigued and quarrelled at Lahore. The English Resident at Lahore was the great Sir Henry Lawrence, and among the brilliant band of active, resolute men that formed his staff was a young subaltern of infantry named Herbert Edwardes. Lawrence had already marked the character and capacity of his young staffofficer. And so when the question of the long-standing arrears of revenue owed by the Bannu subjects of the Sikhs came to be considered, he selected

Edwardes had with him 500 men and two troops of horse artillery. With this little force, and practically without firing a shot, he not only induced the people to pay their tribute, but succeeded in making them raze to the ground their fortified posts, of which there were four hundred in the valley, and he got them to unite together in building a large fort at a commanding position, close to the place where the Kurram River debouches, and where therefore the head works of irrigation can be controlled. This fort still remains, it is the nucleus of the modern cantonment of Bannu (long called Edwardesabad), and it commands the road which leads from the valley to the Tochi Pass, a great trade route into the heart of Afghanistan.

How Edwardes accomplished this marvellous task in a year; how

he won this bloodless victory by personal influence alone; how he was suddenly called thence by an urgent message from the wounded Vans Agnew at Multan; how he raised an army of mountaineers and, marching in the hottest of weather, proceeded at once to Multan, and, though too late to save Vans Agnew, defeated the Sikh host,

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was somewhat of the same fearless character that afterwards was the secret of Pennell's influence.

After Edwardes came John Nicholson, who ruled with justice, swift severity, tremendous energy. Old grey beards to-day point with admiration to the tree under which he sat and administered righteous rule without partiality, favour, or affection. They tell how "his horse was everywhere." They never knew when he was coming or where he was going; but they did know that when he came the poor rejoiced and the guilty suffered.

It might be thought that, however right and expedient it might be to introduce law and order among a fierce and fanatical race of Moslems, yet the time could not come for many years when it would be safe to introduce the teaching of Christianity. Such, indeed, was the view of some of the earlier British rulers on the Frontier, as it has been in our own day in the Sudanat all events, until quite recently. Such, however, was not the view of Sir H. Edwardes. At a meeting held at Peshawar in 1853, hebeing then Commissioner of the District-not only encour

aged the idea, but expressed himself on the subject in wise and eloquent terms, commending the establishment of a mission there independent of Government aid, but recognised and protected by the State as impartially as if it were a Hindu or Mohammedan establishment. To quote all he said would be impossible, but one paragraph alone may be taken as the keynote of the rest: "Sad instances of fanaticism have occurred under our eyes, and it might be feared, perhaps in human judgment, that greater opposition would meet us here than elsewhere. But I do not anticipate it. The gospel of peace will bear its own fruit and justify its name. Experience, too, teaches us not to fear."

History has shown that in taking this step Edwardes was not alienating the respect of the Pathans. A few years after these words were spoken the Indian Mutiny broke out. The Punjab saved India. Peshawar was the key to the Punjab. Edwardes at Peshawar held N.W. India for the Empire, and the Pathans were true to him.

So Christian Missions were established on the Frontier. Gradually it has come to be recognised that healing of the body is the surest way to win the trust of the Pathan, and a chain of medical missions has been established all along the Afghan frontier. Bannu was one of the last so to be established, and it was to Pennell that the task was confided.

There had been clerical missionaries there some years before. I did not know any of these personally. I believe they did good work in connection with translation, but this work did not interest the Pathan, who, as far as preaching was concerned, had plenty from his own mullahs, and was in no mood to have his cherished ideas disputed. So, when Pennell began to preach in the Bannu bazaar he soon found this out, being hustled, kicked, and buffeted in no gentle fashion. However, he came up smiling and went on with his work in the hospital, extracting bullets and sewing up sword-outs with perfect friendliness.

Gradually the tribesmen on both sides of the border-line began to realise that there was among them a man of no ordinary skill, who, although he might have the most heterodox notions on the subject of religion, was at all events a most wonderful healer of disease. Moreover, he spoke their language admirably, wore the same dress as they did, and was always ready to go anywhere, even into the most dangerous places. This was evidently a person to be encouraged. What if the mullahs do rail against him? At all

events he, too, is a "man of the Book" and no idolater, and his medicines, whatever their taste may be, are more efficacious than the mullah's charms. So they made friends with Pennell and invited him to all sorts of queer places. After he had been at Bannu

a few years he was invited to attend the chief of a tribe that had given the Government not long before much trouble. The healing art was successfully applied, and the chief became a firm friend of the doctor. Very shortly afterwards the whole frontier, from the Malakand to the Tochi, was blazing with war. Punitive columns advanced, as we know, from every cantonment. Fierce fighting was going on everywhere-mullahs preaching a jehád in every direction. Scarcely any of the tribes remained quiet, but one whole section which did hold aloof was that with whose chief Pennell had made friends.

I met him at Bannu for the first time in 1901. It was a somewhat special occasion. The Mahsuds had been long filling the cup of their misdeeds to overflowing, and were therefore being subject to a blockade - a sort of boycotting on a large scale, whereby the tribe was supposed to be prevented from holding any intercourse with its neighbours. It was not supposed to be a campaign-that is to say, it was not an officially declared war, there were no special troops mobilised nor staff appointed. But in other respects-i.e., in matters of bloodshed and destructionit was war. One of my survey parties (I was head of the engineering branch) had been cut up almost to a man, and the bill of casualties otherwise amounted to a considerable figure. So to accelerate matters two mobile columns had

been sent in to bring coercive measures to bear on the tribe, one from the south under the general commanding, the other from the north commanded by Colonel Tonnachy, of one of the Sikh regiments in the Frontier Force. Both had done their work successfully, and Colonel Tonnachy had been awarded a C.B.-somewhat to our surprise, for though he richly deserved it, few honours were being awarded for the operations. Bannu was the base of the operations of the north column, and on the return from this raid we were all gathered in the Frontier Force mess for a special dinner to be given in honour of the newly appointed Chief Commissioner of the Province (Colonel Sir Harold Deane), who in former days had been in a frontier cavalry regiment. Among the soldiers and political officers gathered in the ante- room before dinner there was one striking figure in ordinary evening dress, who was evidently not a military or civil officer-a tall, spare man, with a short beard, and gold-rimmed spectacles, whom Colonel Tonnochy introduced to me as Dr Pennell.

I sat beside him at dinner. He was, at first, shy, reserved, and even taciturn, until I began to speak about Pathans. Then he told me many interesting and humorous things. No doubt they were great rascals, but probably I had found that they had excellent points. The great pity about them was that they were so embroiled in

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blood feuds that they were exterminating each other, killing off the best and bravest. course, with the frontier so close on two sides (it is within three miles), murder could easily be committed in British territory and the culprit escape comfortably outside. The trans-border region was simply full of these outlaws, and it was impossible to ignore them, but it made matters exciting for their next-of-kin inside our territory. Would I come and see his hospital? The wards were generally full, and some of the patients came from long distances. And the school? Yes, there was a school. He had not intended to be a schoolmaster, but it was hopeless to do much with the old material. They came to be treated in his hospital, and they were very good friends with him; but they were not much influenced by his teaching, whereas the boys were different. They were such jolly boys, too, so plucky and manly. Yes, there were all sorts, Hindus and Sikhs, as well as Pathans. The mullahs did object a bit, but they had not stopped many coming. Yes, they learned the Bible and Christian hymns, and a few were Christians, but not very many.

So passed the evening pleasantly. We toasted the new Chief Commissioner, and Tonnochy and Down, the Political Officer. Alas! only a few weeks later Down was killed in action, fighting with Mahsuds; and less than a year afterwards Tonnochy, too, was brought in

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