ment, and ranging themselves in columns, made as though they would march on the intrenchment. To prevent this, Wheeler brought a gun to bear upon them. At the third discharge the bulk of them dispersed to join their brethren of the 1st N. I. at Nuwábganj, the suburb in which were located the treasury, the magazine, and the gaol. But a few sipáhís, true to their salt, made their way by a circuitous route to the intrenchment, and served there loyally to the very end.
The station was now clear of insurgents. These, at Nuwábganj, barred the road to Dehlí. To the eastward, the Allahábád road was open. It was from that quarter alone that help could come. Wheeler, then, had no alternative. He must remain where he was. He still cherished the hope that the sipáhís, satiated with loot, and knowing that but little in that respect could be gained by an attack on the intrenchment, would march to swell the national movement at Dehlí. There were some, too, in the intrenchment who, not remembering the bitterness engendered in the mind of Náná Sáhib by the refusal of Lord Dalhousie and the Court of Directors to continue to him the pension of the prince of whom he was the adopted son, hoped much from his loyalty to the foreign overlord.
Meanwhile, the assembled sipáhís of the four regiments, now united, had elected Náná Sáhib as their leader, and ha4 tumultuously demanded to be led to Dehlí. The sipáhís had no desire to kill their officers. Against them they had no grudge. They had shaken off the bonds of discipline, they were free, they had looted to their hearts' content, and now they would join those comrades who had resuscitated the rule of the Mughal. They were not to be thwarted. With loud shouts, then, they set out that same afternoon and marched seven miles to Kaliánpur.
