Tt was the full-moon night. The fearful field of battle was now still. There was no more the patter of horses, the rumble of guns, or the roar of cannons — no more the 'Hurrahs' and the cries of " Had Han." The only sound was that of jackals, dogs and vultures shout- ing, and the piteous momentary wail of the wounded. Some one had his hand cut off, another had his head broken ; some was shot through the ribs, some, again was weighed down by the carcass of a horse. Some cried for water and some others anxiously wished for death. Bengalees, Hindustanis, Englishmen, Mussulmans were all huddled together. The living and the dead, men and horses, were mixed up and lay on one another. The field of carnage looked fearful under the full moon and in the night of Magh no one dared come there. No one dared, but in the dead of that night a woman was walking in that field. She was looking about for something from amid the mass of the dead with a torch in her hand. She took the torch near the face of every one of the bodies, watched it carefully and then moved away to another spot. At places a body lay under the carcass of a horse. The young woman would there lay down the torch on the ground, remove the carcass with both hands and recover the body. When she found however that it was not what she was looking for, she would take up the torch and go elsewhere. She thus
