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- Cavanagh of Kultann (Classic Reprint)
Cavanagh of Kultann (Classic Reprint)
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Excerpt from Cavanagh of Kultann
It was the middle of an August afternoon, and outside the District Officer's bungalow no sign of life was visible save a sleepy Hindu nodding over a rifle he was cleaning and a fox-terrier lying asleep on the verandah. It was drawing near the end of the hot weather, and the sun blazed down from a brazen sky on the narrow stretch of tilled land along the banks of the Kultanar, with its maize and wheat standing ready for the harvest, and on the wide dreary plain lying to the south, bare of cultivation, and left untouched by the river as it wound its way eastward to join the Indus, hundreds of miles distant.
Behind the bungalow, the foothills began to rise less than a mile away, steep grey slopes clothed here and there by pinewoods reaching farther and farther northward and upward, till they merged into the vast towering rampart of the Safed Koh. On the south stretched a wide dreary valley, bare and full of debris from the enfolding mountains and swept by cruel winds from the snow-wrapped giants of the Border.
But to-day the winds were still, for the valley was near the harvest, and the little villages clustered around the life-giving river were at peace as they waited for the reaping of the grain.
Kultann, one of the extreme western outposts of British occupation, consisted of the District Officer's bungalow, a mud-walled club-house, a school, a court-house, a whitewashed building (lying just beyond the ford), which was the hospital, and a square half-mile or so of bazaar, and those buildings and a very unpretentious-looking fort, made up the town of Kultann.
Inside the bungalow this hot afternoon the District Officer sat, up to his eyes in work, surrounded by letters, papers, official documents, and native appeals, for the Commissioner was due on the morrow, and there was much to be done before his arrival.
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