Kánhpur was twenty-two miles distant from the spot on which the handful of British troops was encamped. For them there was but little sleep that night. The knowledge that some of their countrywomen were alive, and that it might be theirs to rescue them, had excited them to feverish impatience. Very early the following morning they were ranged in marching order. A tramp of sixteen miles brought them to the village of Máhárájpur. The sun was well up in the heavens, and the heat was fearful — greater than on any previous day. Halting there, Havelock despatched Barrow to the front for information. Barrow had not proceeded far when he met two loyal sipáhís on their way, at the risk of their lives, to convey to the leader of the avenging force the particulars they had carefully noted regarding the dispositions of Náná Sáhib. The information they gave was of the last importance. Náná Sáhib, they said, was in front, occupying, with about 5000 men and eight guns, a position about 800 yards in rear of the point where the branch road into Kánhpur leaves the grand trunk road. His left rested on an intrenched village, standing among trees on high ground, within a mile of the Ganges, and was defended by three twenty-four-pounders. His centre was covered by swampy ground, and by a low-lying hamlet, on the edge of which, commanding the trunk road, were a twenty-four-pound howitzer and a nine-pounder, covered by mud earthworks. His right was covered by a village in a mango grove, surrounded by a mud wall, through the embrasures of which two nine-pounders pointed their muzzles towards the fork. The sipáhís further reported that the rebels, certain that Havelock would advance towards the fork, had taken the measurements from their positions to that point very carefully, and had laid their guns with the view of meeting him with a concentrated fire.
