festival mosque at some distance from the Fort, but commanded by its guns.
Vans Agnew, while his shoulder was being bandaged, dictated an urgent note to the British Resident at Lahore, 200 miles off, and pencilled another to the Commissioner of Bannu, about half that distance, stating what had happened and begging for immediate help. But next day the guns from the Múltán fort, of which Múlráj re-gained possession, opened on the mosque, where the young officers and their followers had sought shelter. I have spent a day within its riddled walls, and under its shattered dome, and bitterly realized the hopelessness of their defence. When the guns from the fort had done their work, the city rabble rushed in, but paused for a moment at the sight of Vans Agnew sitting quietly on the cot where Anderson lay unable to move, holding his friend's hand and calmly awaiting death. The soldiers and better sort of people stood still, and shrank from taking the lives of defenceless Englishmen. But presently a deformed low caste ran in on the two wounded officers, and hacked off their heads. 'We are not the last of the English,' were Vans Agnew's dying words.
Vans Agnew's letter found Sir Frederick Currie acting as Resident at Lahore for Sir Henry Lawrence who had lately gone to England on sick-furlough. Currie called on the Commander-in-Chief, Lord
