hastened their death. Many a camel died as it was seeking to quench its
thirst at a narrow stream in the valley, and its dead body falling into
the water, polluted it. Yet this water the soldiers drank, for they had
no other, and from drinking it they fell ill. The father of the youthful
soldier was one of these, and he was compelled to stop on the way for
several weeks; and because the heat of a tent was too great, he took
shelter in a ruined building. Here his son nursed him with a heavy heart.
Where was the delight the youth had expected to find in a soldier's life?

At last the British army reached a strong fort built on the top of a
hill; Guznee was its name. Its walls and gates were so strong that it
seemed impossible to get into the city; yet the British knew that if they
did _not_, they must die either by the Affghan sword, or by hunger and
thirst among the rocks. For some time they were much perplexed and
distressed. At last a thought came into the mind of a British captain,
"Let us blow up the gates with gunpowder." The plan was good; but how to
perform it,--there was the difficulty. Soon all was arranged. In the
night some sacks of gunpowder were laid very softly against the gates;
but as no one could set fire to the sacks when _close_ to them, a long
pipe of cloth was filled with gunpowder, and stretched like a serpent
upon the ground; one end of the pipe touched the sack, and the other end
was to be set on fire. But before the match was applied, a British
officer peeped through a chink in the gates to see what the Affghans were
doing within. Behold! they were quietly smoking, and eating their supper,
not suspecting any danger! The match was applied--the gunpowder exploded,
and the strong gates were shattered into a thousand pieces; the army
rushed in sword in hand, and the Affghans fled in wild confusion.

Where was our young soldier? He was running into the fort between two
friendly soldiers, who kindly helped him on; each of them was holding one