歌词
It was the long and terrible summer of 1880.
And I was stationed with my regiment in Afghanistan.
At Kareshk, we had been routed, betrayed by our native allies.
Afterwards, as orderly a fashion as could be managed, we had retreated and made camp at Keshkenakhud, 45 miles from Kandahar.
Information was scarce concerning the whereabouts of the enemy.
We knew only that the forces of the rebel leader Akbar Khan were messing somewhere in the bleak and rocky wilderness by which we were surrounded.
Twilight had begun to fall on the evening of 25 July, when taking an hour or so away from the field hospital upon the absolute insistence of my orderly,
I retired to the makeshift mess with about a dozen offices.
I had intended to play a hand or two of cards, some of my companions having turned to such distractions by the almost intolerable nature of our circumstances.
However, I soon grew uneasy in such pursuits and elected instead to take some air.
I strode a short distance to the edge of our ramshackling encampment to smoke and gaze out into those mysterious sands.
I had just lit a cigarette when I saw in a distance, out, amidst the desert, the figure of a man, who appeared to be moving towards us with some rapidity.
It soon became apparent that the fellow was a native who belonged to no tribe with which I was familiar.
Some sinister purpose seemed to me to be revealed in the silent implacability of his approach.
And as I watched him draw near, I felt, as I never had before, an overwhelming presentiment of evil.
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