rom this
time forth the whole burden of defence lay on a young subaltern of the
Guides, Walter Hamilton. Yet he was not alone, for sharing his glorious
toil, and rising to the heights of heroism, was Jenkyns, a man of peace,
bred not to war or the sword, and Kelly, physician and healer, but no
fighting man.

And now in addition to the heavy fire from the house-tops the mutineers
bored loop-holes through the compound walls, and through these,
themselves protected, poured a murderous fire into the devoted building.
Covered by this fire, escalading ladders were run forward at a dead
angle, and in a moment the roof was reached, and the small remnant of
Guides, six or seven in all, still manning the little parapet were
driven below. After them, gallantly enough, the besiegers rushed down
the steps; but there they met their fate, for, turning fiercely on them,
the Guides killed many, and drove the survivors back to the roof. It was
at this time that the first signs of fire were noticed, whether
intentionally ignited by the storming party, or accidental, is not
clear, though later conflagrations were undoubtedly intentional.

But though the fight had now waxed stronger and stronger for five hours,
and though nearly one-half of the garrison were killed or wounded,
though the British Envoy lay dead or dying, no thought of surrender
occurred to the stout hearts within. Only, for the third time that
morning, was an attempt made by letter to remind the Amir of his sacred
obligations as a host and sovereign of a friendly Power. On this
occasion the bearer selected was Shahzada Taimus, a Prince of the
Sadozai dynasty, but a plain trooper in the ranks of the Guides'
cavalry. The two preceding letters had been sent, one by the hand of an
old pensioner of the Guides, slipped through an unguarded postern, but
not seen again and supposed to be killed; and the second by a Hindu, who
was indeed killed before the eyes of the garrison in his brave attempt
to get through.

The third letter was written by Mr. Jenkyns, and handed by Hamilton to
the Shahzada, a quiet unassuming man, to take to the Amir. A forlorn
hope indeed faced the brave fellow, as he looked forth through a crevice
at the yelling, shooting, cursing crowd, surging round on all sides. To
open a door was instant death to himself and others, for a shower of
bullets would have greeted his exit. The postern was now surrounded, and
gave no hope of escape. There remained only the r