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Updated: September 20, 2025
It would be a bore to travel to Bombay by way of Calcutta. "Let the boy go to Eton and Oxford!" he said. "Why not?" and the years answered him. The little war of Chiltistan was soon forgotten by the world. But it lived vividly enough in the memories of a few people to whom it had brought either suffering or fresh honours.
Both men stood and listened to the groaning and creaking of the wheels for a few moments, and then Linforth said: "So, after all, you mean to let him go?" "No, indeed," answered Ralston. "Only now we shall have to fetch him out of Chiltistan." "Will they give him up?" Ralston shook his head. "No." He turned to Linforth with a smile.
The tribes lose their fear that their independence will be assailed, they come in time to the Political Officer for advice, they lay their private quarrels and feuds before him for arbitration. That has happened in many valleys, and I had always a hope that though Chiltistan has a ruling Prince, the same sort of thing might in time happen there.
"I am going back to Chiltistan," said Shere Ali. "Home!" Violet Oliver repeated, dwelling upon the word with a friendly insistence. But the young prince did not assent; he remained silent so long silent that Violet Oliver moved uneasily. She was conscious of suspense; she began to dread his answer. He turned to her quickly as she moved. "You say that I am going home.
"Yes, mother, it's true," he said very gently; and leading her to a chair, he sat beside her, stroking her hand, almost as a lover might do. "It's true. The telegram came last night. I start within the month." "For Chiltistan?" Dick looked at her for a moment. "For the Punjab," he said, and added: "But it will mean Chiltistan. Else why should I be sent for?
He kept his ground as Shere Ali and his force approached. The only movement which he made was to stand at attention, and as Shere Ali halted at the entrance, he saluted. But it was Captain Phillips whom he saluted, and not the Prince of Chiltistan. Shere Ali spoke with the same quiet note of confident authority which had surprised Captain Phillips before, to the seven nobles at his back.
For on one point a point of fact Luffe was immediately proved wrong. Mir Ali, the Khan of Chiltistan, was retained upon his throne. Dewes turned the matter over in his slow mind. Wrong definitely, undeniably wrong on the point of fact, was it not likely that Luffe was wrong too on the point of theory? Dewes had six months furlong too, besides, and was anxious to go home.
She spent her Christmas in Calcutta, saw the race for the Viceroy's Cup run without a fear that on that crowded racecourse the importunate figure of the young Prince of Chiltistan might emerge to reproach her, and a week later went northwards into the United Provinces. It was a year, now some while past, when a royal visitor came from a neighbouring country into India.
But Ralston paused before he answered, and when he answered it was only to put a question. "What do you mean?" he asked. And the reply came in a low quick voice. "There was a message sent through Chiltistan." Ralston started. Was it in this strange way the truth was to come to him? He sat his horse carelessly. "I know," he said. "Some melons and some bags of grain."
The cheerfulness of his voice, as much as his words, caused Ralston to stop and turn upon his companion in a moment of exasperation. "Perhaps he does." he exclaimed, and then he proceeded to pay a tribute to the young Prince of Chiltistan which took Linforth fairly by surprise. "Don't you understand you who know him, you who grew up with him, you who were his friend? He's a man.
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