this position, a very strong one, was now the work before the undaunted infantry. The 64th approached it from the left, the Highlanders from the centre, whilst on the extreme right the Madras Fusiliers were carrying all before them. When the soldiers, tired and panting, arrived within charging distance, Havelock, appealing to the regimental spirit of rivalry, called out: 'Who is to take that village, the Highlanders or the 64th?' Instantly the two regiments raced for the village, and carried it without a check.
The battle now seemed won. After the storm of the village Havelock halted to reorganise his line, and then advanced up the low rise which covers the entrance into Kánhpur. But scarcely had he crowned the summit when a fierce fire opened upon him, and he beheld, drawn up at a distance of half-a-mile, straight in front of him, the reunited masses of rebel infantry. From their centre a twenty-four-pounder gun belched forth its fire, whilst two smaller pieces on either side of it followed its example. Conspicuously seated on an elephant was Náná Sáhib, moving about amongst the troops, encouraging them with sounds of native music and appeals to their fanaticism. The sight was as unexpected as it was formidable, for Havelock had fain hoped that the serious part of the business was over.
He had, indeed, need of all his coolness and self-possession. His men, who had marched twenty miles, and fought one fierce battle, were worn out. His guns were a mile in the rear, and the horses which had drawn them were knocked up. It was asking a great deal of the infantry soldier to require him to charge those masses and those guns. But Havelock recognised that there was nothing else to be done. He recognised, moreover, that if to be done at all it must be done at once, for the
