The column was greatly delayed owing to the difficulty of the
country, great mountains of eight thousand feet high intervening; but
Jenkins with the Guides and 1st Sikhs pushed on, and by their timely
arrival broke the back of the desperate resistance met by the frontal
attack. No Afghan or Pathan can stand the strain of being taken in
rear; a _sauve qui peut_ becomes at once the order of the day. Most of
the enemy fled through the mountains, but a regiment of regular infantry
took the road through the pass and was captured by Jenkins and his men.
Next came a squadron of cavalry, and these bold fellows determined to
make a dash for liberty. Scattering therefore and riding at a break-neck
gallop many got through, though many lay dead and wounded on the ground;
and then, out of the cloud of dust and smoke might be seen, calmly
riding at a foot's pace, a solitary trooper. A perfect hailstorm of
bullets was falling about him, not the tiny bullets we now use, but
great one ounce Snyder bullets, such as would knock over an elephant;
but though nearly eight hundred rifles were in action, the serene
horseman appeared not the least discomposed, and except for a defiant
wave of his sword he rode quietly on.
Then Jenkins, struck with the admiration of one brave man for another,
sounded the _cease fire_; and in the dead stillness that followed the
Colonel's orderly shouted down to the horseman to ask him who he was,
and why he thus courted death.
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