Calling to Colonel Christopher of the Sikhs to join them, Elliot and Jack rode out, with half a dozen Guides cavalry as an escort. The Nazar Khel warriors had halted a quarter of a mile from the British camp and waited on top of some rising ground, enabling them to look down on the approaching British. Two banners floated above the Pashtuns, one green with Persian script in gold and the other black with white writing.
“The middle fellow,” Jack murmured to Elliot. “That’s Zamar Khan. The tall man at his side, with the eagle’s beak of a nose, is Babrakzai Khan. I don’t know the others.”
Elliot grunted. “We’ll see what they want.”
“Salaam Alaikum,” Jack greeted the Pashtuns, examining them minutely. They were dressed like noblemen, and Zamar carried Jack’s old Wilkinson Sword sabre at his
