They were indeed higher than the roofs of most of the houses held by the
enemy, but one of these, distant only some fifty yards from the Sikh
Square, dominated the whole line of the British defenses on that side, and
an occasional crack of a rifle from its roof showed that the advantage was
duly appreciated.

"What do they call that house?" Ned asked one of the officers on the
terrace.

"That is Johannes' house," he answered. "It was a terrible mistake that we
did not destroy it before the siege began; it is an awful thorn in our
side. There is a black scoundrel, a negro, in the service of the king of
Oude, who has his post there; he is a magnificent shot, and he has killed
a great number of ours. It is almost certain death to show a head within
the line of his fire."

"I wonder we have not made a sortie, and set fire to the place," said Ned.

"The scoundrels are so numerous that we could only hope to succeed with
considerable loss, and we are so weak already that we can't afford it. So
the chief sets his face against sorties, but I expect that we shall be
driven to it one of these days. That new battery is terribly troublesome
also. There, do you see, it lies just over that brow, so that the shot
from our battery cannot touch it, while it can pound away at our house,
and indeed at all the houses along this line."

"I should have thought," Dick said, "that a rush at night might carry it,
and spike the guns."

"No; we should be certain to make some sort of noise, however quiet we