Events in Afghanistan were now coming to a crisis, and it was proposed to send a mission to try to come to terms and settle all disputes. Accordingly, an Englishman, Major Cavagnari, was told to go to Kabul and. let the Amir know that a mission would soon arrive.

Major Cavagnari had, however, hardly crossed the frontier when he was met by the Afghan general, Faiz Mahomed. Faiz Mahomed treated the English officer courteously, but told him distinctly that he had orders not to let the mission pass. Such was the command of his master the Amir; nay more, "but for their personal friendship," he said, "he would, in obedience to further orders from the treacherous Afghan ruler, have shot Major Cavagnari down, and his escort." This direct insult could not be allowed to pass unnoticed. The peaceful mission was forced to retire, but to take its place two British columns were immediately formed, and the command of one of these columns—the Kuram Field Force—was given to Major-General Roberts.

The object of this force was to defeat and disperse any Afghan army that might march to oppose it, and at the same time it was to threaten Kabul, and thus try and bring the Amir to his senses.

On the 21st of November our troops crossed the frontier, General Roberts being in front with the advanced guard. As the British advanced the Afghans sullenly retired, and finally took up a very strong position on a hill called the Peiwar Kotal. The general had only a small force with him (it consisted of 1345 British and 3990 native soldiers, with 13 guns), but he determined to strike a blow.

The tribes in the Kurman thought the small army doomed. "Even the women taunted us," says Roberts. "When they saw the little Gurkhas for the first time, they exclaimed, 'Is it possible that these beardless boys think they can fight Afghan warriors?' They little suspected that the brave spirits which animated these small forms made them more than a match for the most stalwart Afghan."

The plan of attack was soon formed. It was to make a night march, arrive at the foot of the Kotal Hill, where the enemy lay encamped, and storm the position by daybreak. Meanwhile the Afghans' attention was turned to every point of assault but the one determined on.

With great skill the general made use of his small forces by spreading them out, and feinting to attack in different places. In consequence of this, the enemy were completely puzzled and out-manœuvred.

At 10 p.m. on Sunday the 1st December, the men fell in, and began their perilous march in absolute silence. A bitterly cold wind blew down the valley, and by the fitful moonlight, over boulders and through mountain torrents, the soldiers surely but steadily toiled upwards. As dawn was breaking, the enemy saw them, and hastily began to fire into them. Up leapt the Gurkhas and Highlanders, and side by side charged wildly into the entrenchments. A fierce hand-to-hand fight followed; the Afghans fought bravely, but after a short resistance the plateau was taken, and the enemy fled.

Roberts, who led the attack in person, had a narrow escape, a bullet whistling past him, and actually grazing his finger. During the thickest of the fight his native orderlies showed the greatest devotion to their well-loved master. He had two Sikhs, two Pathans, and two Gurkhas in attendance on him, and while the firing was at its hottest, all six crowded round him, regardless of their own safety, as long as they could shield the general from the storm of bullets.

After two hours' well-earned rest, the troops again marched forward on the enemy's main position. The attack on the enemy's front had also been successful, and soon the whole Afghan camp was in our soldiers' hands. The foe were in headlong flight, pursued by our cavalry. The rout was complete; their guns, waggons, and baggage were left behind, and General Roberts had won his maiden victory.

The victorious general now made all his plans for a march on Kabul as soon as spring came. News came, however, that a treaty of peace had been signed, and that a peaceful British mission was to be sent to the Amir's capital. On hearing this, Roberts bade farewell to his splendid little army, and started off to return to Simla. Before actually leaving, he met the Peace Mission, which consisted of Major Cavagnari, who was accompanied by three other Englishmen, and an escort of the Guides.

They were all in the best of spirits, but General Roberts was haunted by a feeling of approaching disaster. At dinner he sat silent, filled "with gloomy forebodings as to the fate of those fine fellows." Next morning he rode with them part of the way. A solitary magpie—emblem of bad luck—flew past them, and Major Cavagnari begged the general not to tell his wife of their ill-omened start. With a heavy heart Roberts bade the little company good-bye. "My heart sank," says he, "as I wished Cavagnari good-bye. When we proceeded a few yards in our different directions, we both turned round, retraced our steps, shook hands once more, and parted for ever."

This parting took place in July; between one and two on the morning of the 5th September, Roberts—who had returned to Simla—was awakened by the arrival of a telegram. The contents told him that his worst fears were realised. Cavagnari and his comrades had been treacherously murdered in the Residency at Kabul.

This, of course, meant war; the murderers must be punished, the murdered mission avenged. With the least possible delay, Roberts was soon busily engaged in plans for the formation of "The Kabul Field Force," as his new command was called.

On the 6th of September he left Simla and went to Umballa, where he was joined by his staff. When he reached the troops the general received a most hearty and enthusiastic welcome, and he was much cheered by the bearing of his soldiers.

"A splendid spirit pervaded the whole force; the men's hearts were on fire with eager desire to press on to Kabul, and be led against the miscreants who had foully murdered our countrymen, and I felt assured that whatever it was possible for dauntless courage, unselfish devotion, and firm determination to achieve, would be achieved by my gallant soldiers."

The troops moved steadily on. On the 5th of October, exactly a month after the sad news of the fate of Cavagnari had reached Simla, it was halted at the "pretty little village of Charasia, nestling in orchards and gardens, with a rugged range of hills towering above it, about a mile away."

The general had made up his mind to strike while the iron was hot. The Afghans were in great numbers, and strongly posted; they were being hourly reinforced, and the situation was one of great anxiety. After breakfast the attack began: delay might have been fatal; and Roberts, grasping the situation at a glance, hurled his little force straight at the dense hordes of Afghans on the ridge.

The enemy were obstinate, and fought with dogged courage. The ground was steep and difficult, and the advance of the stalwart Highlanders was somewhat checked in consequence. Seeing this dilemma, their brother hill-men (the little Gurkhas) joined them, with the fierce, active Punjabis. Highlanders, Gurkhas, Punjabis, all men of fighting race, united in a desperate charge.

Loading and firing as steadily as if on parade, our troops went on till finally the position was reached, and cold steel was called upon to do its work. The Afghans fought well, but the attack was not to be resisted, and finally they fled, leaving their trenches in the hands of our gallant troops.

The order for a general advance was now sounded, and Highlanders, Gurkhas, and Punjabis again dashed forward in friendly rivalry, each striving hard to be the first to close with the enemy.

The Afghans could not meet their fierce onslaught: first they wavered, then, finally, they scattered and fled in all directions, and the victory was won.