'They fired repeatedly at us, but their matchlocks were useless on horseback, till some dismounted and fired, taking deliberate aim over their saddles; thus my two companions fell, and were instantly decapitated; while I rode wildly, blindly on, with the blood pouring from three wounds, and fast and fiercely behind me came the pursuers, one outriding all the rest--Zemaun Khan. 'Already the last of the pass had been left behind, already the country was becoming more flat and open, as I entered upon the plain, or rather valley, where before me lay my only haven, Jellalabad, with its minarets, domes, and those walls and bastions of brick which had for months been held by the soldiers of Sale's brigade. 'Could I but rid myself of Zemaun, I might reach it. I checked my horse, and taking a Parthian aim at my chief pursuer with the last shot in my pistol, saw him fall from his saddle and dragged away rearward in the stirrups by his terrified horse. The act gave the others time to near me, and I must have perished within sight of the city but for a few cavalry who were sent out to succour me. I had been seen by Colonel Dennie of ours, who made that remark which is now historical. '"Ackbar Khan has sworn that but one man shall escape alive, and, by heaven, yonder _he_ comes!" 'In Jellalabad my wounds were dressed. I had food, succour, and rest for the body, but not of the mind, for almost the first tidings that Vassal Holland had for me concerned our lost ones. The ruffian Ackbar had despatched the hostages, as they were named--Lady Sale, Lady Macnaghten, and their fair companions--towards Toorkistan, to be there sold as slaves and bondwomen to the Usbec Tartars, greater savages, if possible, than the Afghans themselves. 'By this time the general was dead. He had expired in the tower of Zemaun Khan. 'I now remembered the words of Nourmahal, on that evening which proved so fatal to her, that "whether given as hostages in peace, or taken as spoil in war, the Feringhee women will become the gholaums--the slaves of the Afghan chiefs." '"So they still live, Vassal?" said I, with a groan. '"Yes; but for what a fate--for what a fate! I would rather hear that my poor Bella were dead!" 'Eight months passed after this--eight months of acute horror and terrible anxiety to all who had, as we had, a tender interest in the lost; and common humanity made all sympathise with such as Sir Robert Sale, who had a wife and daughter in such butcherly hands.