way and fled to the Secunderbagh.

The guns were now brought forward and their fire directed at the strong
wall. The heavy cannon soon made a breach and the assault was ordered. The
Fourth Sikhs had been directed to lead the attack, while the Ninety-third
Highlanders and detachments from the Fifty-third and other regiments were
to cover their advance, by their musketry fire at the loopholes and other
points from which the enemy were firing.

The white troops were, however, too impatient to be at the enemy to
perform the patient role assigned to them, and so joined the Sikhs in
their charge. The rush was so fierce and rapid that a number of men pushed
through the little breach before the enemy had mustered in force to repel
them. The entrance was, however, too small for the impatient troops, and a
number of them rushed to the grated windows which commanded the gates.
Putting their caps on the ends of the muskets, they raised them to the
level of the windows, and every Sepoy at the post discharged his musket at
once. Before they could load again the troops leaped up, tore down the
iron bars, and burst a way here also into the garden.

[Illustration: THE RUSH WAS SO FIERCE, THAT A NUMBER OF MEN PUSHED THROUGH
THE LITTLE BREACH BEFORE THE ENEMY COULD REPEL THEM.]

Then ensued a frightful struggle; two thousand Sepoys held the garden, and
these, caught like rats in a trap, fought with the energy of despair.
Nothing, however, could withstand the troops, mad with the long-balked
thirst for vengeance, and attacked with the cry--which in very truth was
the death-knell of the enemy--"Remember Cawnpore!" on their lips. No
quarter was asked or given. It was a stubborn, furious, desperate strife,
man to man--desperate Sepoy against furious Englishman. But in such a