. This told them that a treaty had been concluded by
which the English had agreed to retire from Afghanistan, and bidding
Sale to quit Jellalabad at once and proceed to India, leaving behind him
his artillery and any stores or baggage that he might not be able to
carry with him.

With one voice the council of war, which was hastily summoned, declined
once more to obey these instructions, which they declared had been wrung
out of Elphinstone by force. Jellalabad should be held at any cost, and
the news that they received during the following week only strengthened
their resolution. The British in Cabul were hemmed in by their enemies,
the cantonments or barracks were deserted, and the sixteen thousand
fugitives had been surrounded outside the city by Afghan troops led by
the son of the Dost Mohammed. These things gave the defenders of
Jellalabad enough to think of, and to fear.

* * * * *

Five days later some officers on the roof of a tall house were sweeping
the horizon with their field glasses to see if there was any chance of
an attack from the Afghans, who were always hovering about watching for
some carelessness on the part of the besieged. But gaze as they might,
nothing was moving in the broad valley, or along the banks of the three
streams which watered it. They were turning away satisfied that at
present there was no danger, when one of them uttered a sudden cry, and
snatching the glasses from his companion, exclaimed, 'Yes, I am right. A
man riding a pony has just come round that corner. It is the Cabul road,
and his clothes are English. Look!'

The others looked, and saw for themselves. The pony's head drooped, and
he was coming wearily down the road, while it was clear that the rider
was urging the poor beast to his best speed. A chill feeling of disaster
filled the little group; they hastened down to the walls and gave a
shout of welcome, and the man waved his cap in answer.

'Throw open the gate,' said the major, and they all rushed out to hear
what the stranger had to tell.

* * * * *

It was a fearful tale. The general in Cabul had listened to the promises
of the son of the Dost Mohammed, and had ordered the five thousand
troops and ten thousand other hangers-on of the British army to leave
their position, in which they were safe, and trust themselves solely to
the Afghans. Cold, hungry, and tired they struggled to the foot of the
moun