And thus we began our retreat.

Firing all the time, we trotted our horses as fast as we could toward the north.

One after another three of my companions fell.

There lay my Tartar with a bullet through his neck.
After him two young and fine stalwart officers were carried from their saddles with cries of death, while their scared horses broke out across the plain in wild fear, perfect pictures of our distraught selves.

This emboldened the Tibetans, who became more and more audacious.