manners, and of winning the confidence of all classes of natives, which
had already carried him through many a perilous undertaking, were most
fully utilised for the purpose of cracking it. From Kohat to Dera
Ismail he was incessantly engaged in quiet little unobtrusive
excursions (with full political sanction _bien entendu_) which resulted
in a very complete map of the border, a map which it will be hard to
supersede. There is one particularly awkward corner of our
frontier--awkward from a military as well as geographical point of
view--which thrusts itself forward over the general line into British
territory, and which can never fail to attract the attention of the
frontier traveller. This is the rocky fastness of Kafir Koh. From red
salt hills south of Bahadur Khel the three-headed peak of Kafir Koh is
seen standing up like a monument in the southern distance: nor is it
less a conspicuous feature when viewed to the north from the Bannu
road. At the back of it, to the west, is the direct road connecting the
upper Meranzai valley with the Bannu district, of which the existence
was known, but not the nature, when McNair took it in hand. Up the
sheer face of that square-cut peak, composed chiefly of shifting sand
and pebbles, which overtops the rest, McNair did his best to climb. He
did not succeed for the reason that no living thing without wings has
probably ever succeeded in surmounting it, although there is a legend
to the effect that a specially active Waziri robber did once contrive
to reach the top--and there remained to starve; but the English
explorer at least got far up enough to obtain the clear view he
required, and he came back richer in wisdom to the extent of many
square miles of most remarkable mapping. His name soon became well
known on the border, especially amongst the Waziris, and so much did
they appreciate his own appreciation of themselves, that there is a
story current that one well-known Mahsud chieftain stopped a Punjab
Cavalry detachment near the border line and demanded a passport order