Ackbar probably meant to keep them all till richly ransomed, for he was overheard to say to Amen Oollah Khan, in his hypocritical way,--
"What saith the Koran? 'Unto such of your slaves as desire a written instrument, allowing them to redeem themselves, on paying a certain sum, write one, if ye know good in them, and give them of the riches of God, which he hath given you.'"
"But, by the soul of him who wrote these words," replied Amen Oollah, "I would not give up that damsel with the red, golden hair for less than a crore of rupees."
As a crore is ten lacs of rupees, a high value seemed to be set on poor Mabel Trecarrel, who was here indicated.
In the deep shadowy gorges of those winding passes, through which the route of the troops lay for miles, the impending cliffs were covered by clouds of yellow-turbaned Khyberees and Ghilzies, who poured down upon them a remorseless and incessant fire of musketry, and in some places from caverns which were full of juzailchees. In others they daringly rushed in bands into the ranks of the weary and half-famished soldiers, whose ammunition was nearly expended, and made there a terrible use of their swords and long daggers; and thus, at a place called the Jungle Tarechee, or Dark Pass, the whole of the 54th Native Infantry were destroyed. There, too, fell Graham and Ravelstoke.
The dead were always stripped, and then mutilated, or terribly gashed with wounds.
"Death to the infidel dogs--death! death!" were the incessant cries by which these fanatics inspired each other.
"What says the Koran?" cried one whose camise was literally steeped in blood; "'it is unlawful to plunder the living,' but there is no prohibition about the dead; so death to them all!"
The fugitives were so wedged _en masse_ in the narrow way, that every shot told fearfully. All along that route, many a wounded soldier, as he fell behind, gave to some favourite comrade the last words that he, poor Bob, or Bill, or Jack, was never fated to carry home; many a dying officer gave his papers, ring, or locket to the friend who, in a few minutes later, was also stretched on the ensanguined snow.
At one brief halt a few ponies were killed and devoured raw!
All hope was dead now in every heart, yet on they struggled--on, and on--till a place called Jugdulluck was reached, and then in all the sullenness of fury and despair, the wretched survivors, Horse, Foot, and Artillerymen, resolved to make a resolute stand. Cheering wildly, as if to welcome death and the foe together, the poor fellows stood shoulder to shoulder, many bleeding with undressed wounds, all breathless and flushed, their eyes gleaming, their once comely English faces distorted by hate and bitterness.