had become, like the dyer's hand, subdued to what it worked in. By this time orders for the withdrawal of their garrisons had been despatched to our commanders at Kandahár, Ghazní, and Jalálábád. Of all the confederate leaders Muhammad Akbar had hitherto shown himself the least slippery. For an Afghán, indeed, who had so many reasons to hate our countrymen, he had kept fairly true to the tenour of his agreement, and had dared much to enforce the same duty on his less manageable friends. Unpleasant rumours, which deepened his own suspicions of foul play, now led him to test the Envoy's good faith by a process which would leave no room for further doubt.
On the evening of the 22nd — for the troops had not stirred — two of his trustiest followers bore to Macnaghten a message intended for his private ear. Akbar proposed to form a league with the English and the Ghilzas for maintaining Sháh Shujá on his throne. He himself was to be installed as the Sháh's Wazír and to receive from us a pension of four lakhs a year, with a bonus of thirty lakhs, or £300,000. Our troops were to aid him in capturing Aminulla Khán, the chief who had prompted the attack on Burnes. For a certain sum of money, Akbar engaged to send that ruffian's head as a present to the Envoy. This last proposal Macnaghten at once declined. It was against the custom of his country to pay a price for blood. In return for compliance with these conditions, the British troops would be free to retire
