suspected of being largely infected with the same disloyal mood.
There was, besides, a local force of Punjab Irregulars, numbering some 12,000 men — distributed for 600 miles along the Indus frontier. To which side would these men incline, supposing that the Sepoys — already more than three to one — turned against the English?
Besides the army there was in the Punjab a body of 13,000 military police, drawn from the same classes as the Irregulars, and likely to follow them in the matter of loyalty. The English regiments were massed principally about Ambála on the eastern confines of the Province, and in the Pesháwar Valley, on its north-western frontier — four regiments at the one and three at the other. Even here the British were outnumbered. At Pesháwar the 3000 Europeans were confronted with 6000 native troops. The position was in other respects full of anxiety. Within an easy ride was the famous Kháibar Pass and the belt of mountain tribes, untameable, warlike, and nothing loath to seize a favourable opportunity for a raid. Beyond them again was the old Afghán Amír, who, though recently bound by an alliance of friendship with the British Government, had some old scores to settle, some deep grievances to resent, and the dear hope of regaining the Pesháwar Valley, of which Ranjít Singh had robbed him.
Nor was it of Upper India alone that Lord Canning had to think. How would the country southward of the Jumna, the races of Rájputána and Central India,
