The citadel was a place very difficult for an enemy to enter; for the
entrance was through a narrow dark passage underground. Into this passage
the British soldiers poured, but soon they came to a door, which they
could not get through, for Beloochee soldiers stood there, sword in hand,
ready to cut down any one who approached. "Look at my back," said one
soldier to his fellow. The other looked, and beheld the most frightful
gashes gaping wide and bleeding freely. Such were the wounds that each
soldier, who ventured near that door, was sure to receive.

At this moment a cry was heard, saying, "Another passage is found." When
the Beloochees heard this cry, they gave up all hopes of keeping the
enemy out of the citadel; so they left off fighting, and cried "Peace."

But their king was already dead; he had fallen on the threshold of the
passage last found. The _first_ man who tried to get in by that way the
_king_ had killed; but the _second_ had killed the king. The British, as
they rushed in by this new way, trampled on the body of the fallen
monarch. He was a splendid object even in death; his long dark ringlets
were flowing over his glittering garments, and his sharp sword, with its
golden hilt, was in his hand. The British hurried by, and climbed the
steep and narrow stairs leading to the top of the citadel, and the enemy
no longer durst oppose their course.

On the terrace at the top of the citadel, in the open air, stood the
nobles of Beloochistan. There were princes too from the countries all
around. It was a magnificent assembly. These men were the finest of a
fine race. Some were clad in shining armor, and others in flowing
garments of green and gold. Thus they stood for a _moment_, and the
_next_--they were rolling on the ground!!