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The Story of the Malakand Field Force - An Episode of Frontier War by Sir Winston S. Churchill
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an odious species of large lizard, nearly three feet long, which
resembles a flabby-skinned crocodile and feeds on carrion. Domestic
fowls, goats, sheep and oxen, with the inevitable vulture, and an
occasional eagle, complete the fauna.

Over all is a bright blue sky and powerful sun. Such is the scenery of
the theatre of war.

The inhabitants of these wild but wealthy valleys are of many tribes,
but of similar character and condition. The abundant crops which a warm
sun and copious rains raise from a fertile soil, support a numerous
population in a state of warlike leisure. Except at the times of sowing
and of harvest, a continual state of feud and strife prevails throughout
the land. Tribe wars with tribe. The people of one valley fight with
those of the next. To the quarrels of communities are added the combats
of individuals. Khan assails khan, each supported by his retainers.
Every tribesman has a blood feud with his neighbor. Every man's hand is
against the other, and all against the stranger.

Nor are these struggles conducted with the weapons which usually belong
to the races of such development. To the ferocity of the Zulu are added
the craft of the Redskin and the marksmanship of the Boer. The world is
presented with that grim spectacle, "the strength of civilisation
without its mercy." At a thousand yards the traveller falls wounded by
the well-aimed bullet of a breech-loading rifle. His assailant,
approaching, hacks him to death with the ferocity of a South-Sea
Islander. The weapons of the nineteenth century are in the hands of the
savages of the Stone Age.

Every influence, every motive, that provokes the spirit of murder among
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