From Alikhel there were said to be two roads leading to Kuram, besides the difficult path over the Peiwar Kotal; and as it was of great importance to gain a knowledge of an alternative line of communication, in view of further trouble, I determined to explore one of them, choosing that which appeared to be the shortest, and which I heard had been used some time before by an Afghan Mountain battery.  This route was described as practicable for camels, and ran through lands belonging to tribes whose headmen were with me, a fact which should, I thought, ensure our being free from attack.

I left Alikhel on the 12th December, taking with me No. 1 Mountain Battery, a wing 72nd Highlanders, the 5th Gurkhas, and the 23rd Pioneers.  The route lay for four miles along the banks of the Hariab stream, a tributary of the Kuram river, through a valley which gradually narrowed into a thickly-wooded ravine, three miles long:  at the end of this ravine the road, turning sharply to the left, ascended till it reached an open grassy plateau, on which stood the hamlet of Sapari.  The inhabitants turned out to welcome us, bringing supplies, and appearing so friendly that I settled to halt there for the night.  I had been warned, however, by the maliks of some of the villages we had passed through in the morning, that we should probably be attacked on the march the next day, and that a defile which lay at the other side of a mountain over which we had to cross would be particularly dangerous to us.  I determined, therefore, to send on troops that evening to occupy the pass over this mountain, and to start the baggage off long before daybreak, so that it should be out of the way of the main body, which would also have to march at an early hour in order to reach the kotal before the tribesmen had time to collect.

This could have been accomplished without difficulty, but for the machinations of our false friends in the village, who directed on to the precipitous path we had to ascend a stream of water which soon turned into a sheet of ice, and when I arrived on the spot I found the road blocked by fallen animals vainly struggling to regain their footing.  This caused so much delay that it was nearly noon before the last camel had got over the pass.

The descent on the other side was scarcely less difficult, though free from ice.  We dropped 3,000 feet in the first two miles, down a way which can only be described as a ruined staircase, with the steps missing at intervals, ending in the defile against the dangers of which we had been warned.  This defile was certainly a nasty place to be caught in, being five miles long, and so narrow that the camels’ loads struck against the rocks on either side; and it was impossible to move flanking parties along the cliffs above, as they were intersected by wide chasms running back for long distances.

It was important to secure the exit from this gorge without delay, and for this purpose I pushed on four companies of the 23rd Pioneers, and in support, when the ravine began to widen out a little, I hurried on the Highlanders and the Mountain battery, leaving the Gurkhas to protect the baggage and bring up the rear.