We had scarcely time to ponder on this intelligence, when all of a sudden, while we were marching at mid-day on the 15th of Ramazán, the men being off their guard, and going on in separate parties, most of them, also, being exhausted with the fast, an attack was made upon us, with matchlocks and arrows. The Rájá of Awesar had formed stages of wicker-work on the tops of the trees, and from this secure position several of our men were killed and wounded. At the very commencement of the attack, a ball struck Husain Khán below the knee, grazed his thigh, and, passing through the saddle, was spent upon the head of his horse. He was very nearly fainting and falling from his saddle, but his self-possession enabled him to keep his seat by clinging to the pommel. I threw water on his face, and his im­mediate attendants, not aware of the accident, at first thought that his fasting had worn him out. I then seized hold of his bridle, for the purpose of carrying him for safety behind a tree out of the storm of arrows, when he opened his eyes, and, con­trary to his usual habit, looked sternly at me, and made signs that there was no need to hold his reins, but that we should dis­mount and join in the fray. We accordingly alighted, leaving him there to take care of himself.

The contest then raged with fury, and many were killed on both sides. At last, towards evening, victory inclined to our party, which was the smallest, and the infidels were put to flight like so many sheep, but not before our sipáhís were so tired, that they could scarcely wield a sword or shoot an arrow. We had all been so jammed together in the forest, that we could with difficulty tell friend from foe. Some of our men had strength of mind and body enough, to deserve the reward, both of engaging in holy war, and of maintaining a strict fast. I, on the contrary, in my weakness, at last took a cup of water to moisten my throat, for the want of which some poor fellows died. Several excellent friends of mine attained martyrdom in repelling this attack.

After this victory, Husain Khán returned by rapid marches to Kánt and Gola, and strengthened those places. Shortly after, Ibráhím arrived in the pargana of Lakhnor, fifteen kos from Sambal.* As Husain Khan was still suffering from the effects of his wound, he was obliged to be carried on a litter, but never­theless he advanced to Báns Bareillí, in order to force Ibráhím to action, and from Bareillí he made Sambal in one day by a forced march. Ibráhím, alarmed at this exhibition of confidence and courage, thought it better to decline an action, and retreated by way of Amroha, in the environs of Lakhnor, leaving a dis­tance of seven kos between him and his opponent. Had Husain Khán been compelled to fight in his then wounded state, God knows what would have happened! It was one of the Mirzá's mistakes that he did not attack Husain Khán while he was in this weak state.

[Mu'ínu-d dín Khán Farankhúdí, governor of Sambal, with a large party, and several other amírs and jágírdárs of the neigh­bourhood, who had taken refuge in the fort, when they heard at midnight the roll of the drums of Husain Khán, they thought the Mirzá was upon them, and were quite overpowered by fear. But when the cry arose that Husain Khán had come to their assistance, they came out joyfully to meet him. Next day we went to the abode of Shaikh Fathu-lla Tarbati, one of the vicars of Shaikhu-l Islám Fathpúrí, and there held a council. It was then considered advisable that all the amírs of the neighbourhood of Dehlí who had turned out against the Mirzá should go with Tolak Khán Korchí and ^{* *} to the pargana of Áhár on the Ganges, and there wait for us; then, after the junction of the forces, further operations might be decided on.

Husain Khán exclaimed, “Good God! The Mirzá came here with a small party of horse, and although your numbers more than doubled his, you took refuge in the fort of Sambal; and now twenty or thirty amírs and old soldiers with a large force are so dismayed that you want to shelter yourselves in the fort of Áhár, which is a mere rat's hole. This will encourage the Mirzá to make further attacks upon the Imperial territories. Now there are two courses open, one of which we must follow. You must cross the Ganges, and, under the cover of that old fort, must intercept the Mirzá, and prevent his getting over the Ganges. I will follow up in his rear, and we shall see what will happen. Or I will hasten over the Ganges, and head the Mirzá, while you pursue him. This seems to be our duty.” But they could not agree upon any course until Husain Khán, driven by necessity, went off in haste with the horsemen he had to the amírs at Áhár, and inveighed loudly against their going into the fort. He brought them out, and again held a council with them. “The enemy,” he said, “is in the heart of the country, and is like a hare in the midst of a camp. If we follow him up sharply, we may settle his business, and take him alive. The glory of this victory will be yours.” The soldiers said, “Under the orders of Makhdúmu-l Mulk and Rájá Bihár Mal, we have driven the Mirzá out of the Delhí territory, and have come into Sambal. Mu'ínu-d din Ahmad Khán is the master and jágírdár of this province, and he is now responsible. Our orders were to protect Dehlí, not to make war upon the Mirzá, for there are risks in such a course.”

Intelligence now arrived that the Mirzá had attacked Amroha, and having crossed the Ganges at the ford of Chaubála, was marching rapidly towards Lahore. Husain Khán, convinced of the apathy of the amírs, separated himself from them immediately, and made a forced march to Garh-muktesar, in order to arrest the Mirzá. Of the royal amírs, Turk Subhán Kulí and Farrukh Díwána were the only ones that accompanied him. A letter now reached him from the amírs of Áhár, urging him to come speedily and join them. The Mirzá, like the rook on a cleared chess-board, now came into the heart of the country, plundering and ravaging the towns in his way. When he was at Páyal, his men committed such atrocities upon Musulmán people as cannot well be described. In that town twelve virgins were ravished with such violence that several of them died. Other places fared in the same way. Husain Khán followed the steps of the Mirzá, and the amírs came after him, until they reached Sirhind. Here they became refractory, and would go no further. But Husain Khán was not content to remain. With the small force under his command, not exceeding 200 men in all, and with the two persons (above named), he marched rapidly from Sirhind to Lúdiyána. There he learnt that on the Mirzá's approaching Lahore, the garrison had closed the gates against him. Upon this the Mirzá went to Sher-garh and Jahní.

Husain Kulí Khán, who was besieging Nagarkot and the fort of Kángra, heard of these movements of the Mirzá's; so he patched up a treaty with the Hindús. He received five mans of gold as tribute from the people of Nagarkot, and had the khutba read in His Majesty's name. He then marched away along with Mirzá Yúsuf Khán, Masnad-i 'Alí, Fattu (Katlú) the slave of 'Adalí, Ism'aíl Khán, Rájá Bírbal and other amirs, and proceeded in pursuit to Sankra. When Husain Khán heard of this move­ment, in that madness which a thousand times had got the better of his judgment, he swore an oath that he would not eat food until Husain Kulí joined him. Crossing the Biyáh at the ford of Talwandí, he made a forced march to Sher-garh, one of the de­pendencies of Jahní. There he paid a visit to Shaikh Dáúd Kádirí Jahní-wál. When food was served, he excused himself from eating on account of his oath. The Shaikh observed that it was easy to atone for an oath, but silly to distress one's friends. The Khán instantly called for a slave, and having set him free, thus atoned for his oath. Then he partook of the food, and benefited by the gracious words which he heard. He remained there that night. The monastery of the Shaikh provided enter­tainment for all the party, and his fields furnished grass and corn for the horses.

Three days afterwards I came from Lahore to Sher-garh, and stayed there four days, seeing and hearing things which had never entered into my imagination. I was anxious to withdraw from the world, and to devote myself to the sweeping of the monastery. But the Shaikh would not allow me, and told me I must go to Hindústán. So I took my leave in a very forlorn and distressed state. ^{* * *}