inoculations our water imparts … How many cases have we had of polio among the Europeans?”
“Many, even in my time,” the fat doctor concurred.
There was a sound at the door, and in a moment Miss Maxwell appeared, flushed from the deep cold and from some experience which had left her stunned. “It’s too much!” she cried in a kind of wild exhilaration.
“What happened?” many voices cried.
“This morning,” she said excitedly. “The three mullahs screaming at me.”
“We know about that unfortunate affair,” Sir Herbert said consolingly.
“I didn’t mind it,” Miss Maxwell said. “I left Omaha to see Afghanistan, and I love it.” Seeing Moheb she ran to him and took his hands. “What do you suppose I just saw? Not two hundred yards from the embassy?”
“More mullahs?” Moheb asked quietly.
“Wolves!” Miss Maxwell reported. “Yes, a huge pack of wolves. They were running across an open field where the snow was thick.”
“The storms have driven them down from the mountains,” Moheb Khan explained. “At this time of the year …”
“Would they attack … a man?” someone asked.
“They’re ravenously hungry,” Moheb replied. “In the morning you may hear … Well, they are wolves, down from the Hindu Kush.”
The concept of wild wolves, running in a pack through the outskirts of Kabul, running until they found a straggler, either animal or human, cast a spell of terror over the group that had gathered to read a comedy. We felt chilly, and Sir Herbert directed his Afghan houseboy to throw on more logs. We felt very close to each other, and our group became more compact. Miss Maxwell, I am glad to say, did not try to monopolize the center of attention. She simply reported, “They were not at all like the wolves in Walt Disney. They were animals, great shaggy, terrifying animals.”
“Did they have long teeth?” Signorina Risposi asked.
“I don’t know. At such a moment… You know, they dashed right at our car. If I’d been driving Idon’t know what I’d have done. But our boy, Sadruddin, was in charge and he blew the horn sharply. Like one huge animal with many legs they swerved away and disappeared.”
“Where?” the Swedish girl asked.
“Toward town,” Miss Maxwell said, pointing toward where we all lived.
“It’s one reason why we built high walls,” Moheb Khan reflected in French.
“This is a land of startling contrasts,” the French ambassador agreed.
“Do the wolves surprise you?” Moheb asked the general audience in English. “Before we read the play, tell me. Do the wolves surprise you?”
“No,” the French ambassador replied in English. “When we come to Kabul we expect… Well, we expect the Hindu Kush.”
“But we are never prepared for what we expect,” Sir Herbert observed. He, too, was willing to postpone the reading of the play. After all, in winter in Kabul it mattered little when a party broke up … ten o’clock, or one, or four. “I remember when I was stationed in India. It was before the war.” He didn’t say, “They were good days, those,” but we knew he intended us to think so. “I was hunting in Kashmir and I announced one day that I was going out with my native bearers to bag me a Kashmiri brown bear.
“A man in the bar at Srinagar, a total stranger, asked, ‘Are you quite sure you want to shoot a Kashmiri bear, Sir Herbert?’ I replied that I intended doing so, and doubtless my manner implied that I was irritated with his question.”
The Afghan servant came in to place upon thefire a few precious logs, and each of us drew closer to someone else, for the wind outside was audible. “The stranger rejected my rebuff and asked again ‘Sir Herbert, do you know anything of the Kashmiri bear?’ I replied, with some irritation, ‘It’s a bear. I’ve seen it at the zoo in Simla. Roger Whats-hisname shot one.’ The man pressed me, ‘But have you shot one?’
“‘No,’ I replied, and the man said sternly,
“Many, even in my time,” the fat doctor concurred.
There was a sound at the door, and in a moment Miss Maxwell appeared, flushed from the deep cold and from some experience which had left her stunned. “It’s too much!” she cried in a kind of wild exhilaration.
“What happened?” many voices cried.
“This morning,” she said excitedly. “The three mullahs screaming at me.”
“We know about that unfortunate affair,” Sir Herbert said consolingly.
“I didn’t mind it,” Miss Maxwell said. “I left Omaha to see Afghanistan, and I love it.” Seeing Moheb she ran to him and took his hands. “What do you suppose I just saw? Not two hundred yards from the embassy?”
“More mullahs?” Moheb asked quietly.
“Wolves!” Miss Maxwell reported. “Yes, a huge pack of wolves. They were running across an open field where the snow was thick.”
“The storms have driven them down from the mountains,” Moheb Khan explained. “At this time of the year …”
“Would they attack … a man?” someone asked.
“They’re ravenously hungry,” Moheb replied. “In the morning you may hear … Well, they are wolves, down from the Hindu Kush.”
The concept of wild wolves, running in a pack through the outskirts of Kabul, running until they found a straggler, either animal or human, cast a spell of terror over the group that had gathered to read a comedy. We felt chilly, and Sir Herbert directed his Afghan houseboy to throw on more logs. We felt very close to each other, and our group became more compact. Miss Maxwell, I am glad to say, did not try to monopolize the center of attention. She simply reported, “They were not at all like the wolves in Walt Disney. They were animals, great shaggy, terrifying animals.”
“Did they have long teeth?” Signorina Risposi asked.
“I don’t know. At such a moment… You know, they dashed right at our car. If I’d been driving Idon’t know what I’d have done. But our boy, Sadruddin, was in charge and he blew the horn sharply. Like one huge animal with many legs they swerved away and disappeared.”
“Where?” the Swedish girl asked.
“Toward town,” Miss Maxwell said, pointing toward where we all lived.
“It’s one reason why we built high walls,” Moheb Khan reflected in French.
“This is a land of startling contrasts,” the French ambassador agreed.
“Do the wolves surprise you?” Moheb asked the general audience in English. “Before we read the play, tell me. Do the wolves surprise you?”
“No,” the French ambassador replied in English. “When we come to Kabul we expect… Well, we expect the Hindu Kush.”
“But we are never prepared for what we expect,” Sir Herbert observed. He, too, was willing to postpone the reading of the play. After all, in winter in Kabul it mattered little when a party broke up … ten o’clock, or one, or four. “I remember when I was stationed in India. It was before the war.” He didn’t say, “They were good days, those,” but we knew he intended us to think so. “I was hunting in Kashmir and I announced one day that I was going out with my native bearers to bag me a Kashmiri brown bear.
“A man in the bar at Srinagar, a total stranger, asked, ‘Are you quite sure you want to shoot a Kashmiri bear, Sir Herbert?’ I replied that I intended doing so, and doubtless my manner implied that I was irritated with his question.”
The Afghan servant came in to place upon thefire a few precious logs, and each of us drew closer to someone else, for the wind outside was audible. “The stranger rejected my rebuff and asked again ‘Sir Herbert, do you know anything of the Kashmiri bear?’ I replied, with some irritation, ‘It’s a bear. I’ve seen it at the zoo in Simla. Roger Whats-hisname shot one.’ The man pressed me, ‘But have you shot one?’
“‘No,’ I replied, and the man said sternly,
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