'I should like to pick that devil off,' said Robert Wodrow, dropping a cartridge into the breechblock of his carbine. 'He seems to be head cock and bottle-washer of the whole shindy!' he added, in the phraseology of his student days. His ballet sped, but only grazed the shoulder of the old fanatic, and added to the latter's fury. A soldier of the Guides who had been wounded in the temple fell headlong from the flat roof into the mass below, and was hewn by tulwars and charahs to pieces--literally chopped into ounce pieces. In the desperation of their circumstances it was resolved to appeal for succour and protection to the Ameer, who, while all this deadly work was in progress, remained with indifference apparently in his palace, and amid the ladies of his harem. The ambassador, whose wound had been dressed by Dr. Kelly, desired a moonshi to write a letter imploring royal aid, but the scribe was so terrified by the uproar that his fingers were unable to hold the pen; so one was written in Afghani by Taimar, the Guide, and this missive Robert Wodrow boldly volunteered to deliver in person. 'You are throwing your life away, Wodrow,' said Colville. 'The risk is frightful.' 'So be it, Captain Colville; but better mine than yours. You have something to live for. What have I?' Untwisting a couple of cartridges into a saucer, he made a species of black paste therewith, and, blackening his face before a mirror, contrived still further to disguise himself with some Afghan clothing that was found in the Residency--a brown camise with loose wide sleeves, a furred _choga_ or mantle, a _loonghee_, and armed with a tulwar and shield, like a budmash. He placed the letter in his pocket, and issuing from a secret underground doorway passed from the Bala Hissar unnoticed by the crowds which surged around it, and brandishing his weapon and shouting ever and anon like the rest, 'Deen! Deen!' he contrived to reach the Ameer, to whose hands he forwarded the letter through Daud Shah, a friendly sirdir or general. It was speedily brought back with a brief reply written upon it by the prince-- 'If God willeth. I am just making arrangements.' The brave Wodrow experienced many difficulties in making his way back, for the hostile crowds were increasing every moment, and to reach the Residency he had at one time literally to act the part of a leader, and risk the fire of his own friends, among whom, however, he soon found himself, and delivered the message of the Ameer to the half-conscious Cavagnari, who was suffering sorely from his wound. But no succour came, and the hopeless and desperate resistance was continued. A second letter to the Ameer was now despatched; but its bearer, a Hindoo, was discovered and cut to pieces.