to which no answer was ever returned. Ere long an angry mob was surging before his house. Some of the insurgents attacked the Treasury, while others set fire to Burnes's stables. Hoping for speedy relief from some quarter, and knowing that other lives than his were staked on the issue, Burnes restrained his Sepoy guards from firing, while he harangued the mob from an upper balcony. Their only answer was a yell of defiance, mingled with fierce demands for his blood and that of his two companions, his brother Charles and young Broadfoot. Shots were soon flying about, the assailants pressed forward in ever-increasing numbers; and soon the English officers and their faithful Sepoys were fighting desperately for their lives.
The first to fall in the unequal struggle was the brave William Broadfoot, brother of him who, just a year earlier, had died the soldier's death at Parwándarra. It was now past eight o'clock, and still no help came either from cantonments or the Bálá Hissár. Once more Burnes addressed the rioters, promising them a large bribe to spare his brother's life and his own. They only bade him come down into the garden. At last the two brothers, disguised as natives, were lured outside by a treacherous Kashmírí, who had sworn to guide them to a place of safety. He kept his oath by shouting out the name of 'Sikandar Burnes.' The mob, led by one of their mullahs, rushed upon the hapless pair, who fell cut to pieces by the long sharp Afghán knives. Every soul in the two
