and that the two Kháns had immediately beaten a retreat. Bábar was thus deserted, and the next thing was the approach of Tambal at the head of two or three thousand men-at-arms. The trap was on the point of snapping; the brothers' plans had worked out beautifully. With his usual carelessness, or want of suspicion, Bábar had not thought of seizing the castle, the key of the position, nor had he even set a guard at the bridge by which Tambal must cross. His own followers were dispersed all over the country, and he had but a hundred left. To hold the town without securing the castle was hopeless; yet Bábar attempted it with the help of his brother Jahángír, who had at last fled from his gaoler. Flight was the only chance of safety, and the story of how Bábar made his escape, and how he fared on his wild journey, fills some exciting pages of the Memoirs: –
'We had no sooner come opposite the gate than we saw Shaikh Báyazíd, with a quilted gambeson over his vest; he had just then entered the gateway with three or four horsemen, and was riding into the town. . . . I immediately drew to the head the arrow that was in my notch, and let him have it full. It only grazed his neck, but it was a fine shot. The moment he had traversed the gate he turned short to the right and fled in a panic down a narrow lane. I pursued. Kúli Kukildásh struck down one foot-soldier with his mace, and had passed another, when the fellow aimed an arrow at Ibráhím Beg, who baulked him by shouting "Hai! Hai!" and went on; but the man, being no further off than the porch from the hall, let fly an arrow which hit me under
