As a foretaste of what was soon to happen, the bearers, returning from the city with the litters, were fired upon, and all shot down by the Afghans; and on this very morning, as the grey dawn began to steal down the mountains from their reddened summits to the plain, the dark corpses of the Hindoo dhooley-wallahs could be seen dotting all the expanse of snow between the Cantonments and Cabul; while, to still the growing clamour, three pieces of cannon, and the greater portion of our treasure, were made over to the rabble. In rear of his company, awaiting the order to march, Denzil stood leaning on his sword and muffled in a furred poshteen which he wore above his uniform, as the thermometer was below zero and all the troops were in those blue great-coats usually worn by our soldiers in India. The Europeans looked pale, thin, and haggard, and the dark Bengal sepoys seemed of a livid or pea-green tint, as the cold daylight stole in. How often Denzil had watched the great sun of the Eastern world rise red and fiery above those eternally snow clad peaks of Kohistan; and now he was, he hoped, looking on its rising for the last time there. Alas! many more were looking on it, that were never to see it set. Notwithstanding the desperation of their affairs, many were in excellent spirits at the prospect of a change of quarters; and he heard the voice of Rose Trecarrel, talking gaily to one or two officers, as she, Mabel and some other ladies came forth mounted, to ride for surer protection among the cavalry. With them were Lady Sale and the widowed Lady Macnaghten, who had vainly offered princely bribes for her husband's mutilated body, and had now to depart with the harrowing knowledge that it was still exposed in the public marketplace. Some of the ladies were on camels, others in dhooleys with their children nestling beside them for warmth; but the Trecarrels were mounted on fine Arab horses, and wore sheep-skin spencers called _neemches_ over their riding habits, for comfort and also for disguise, which they had further to aid by having turbans twisted round their heads, so Rose could not help laughing heartily at the oddity of her attire. "Good-morning," said she, in her sweetest tone, to Denzil, who had been watching her wistfully. He was as a very slave in her presence, he loved her so, and now when she held out her hand, chill though the air, ungloved (for a moment of course) the presence of others alone prevented him from, perhaps, kissing it. "You have a cold journey before you," said he. "And you a most toilsome march afoot. Heaven tempers the wind to the shorn lamb, we are told; I wish it would temper the wind to me," said Rose, with her teeth, short, beautiful and white, chattering as she spoke. "What have you been doing for all these days past? In what part of the Cantonments have you hidden yourself?" she asked in a low and soft voice.