two prostrate officers with the butt-ends of their muskets. They even threatened Shaikh Paltu, and ordered him to let go his hold on Manghal Pándi. That faithful sipáhí, however, continued to cling to him until Baugh and the sergeant- major had had time to rise.
Meanwhile rumour, as quick as lightning on such occasions, had brought to General Hearsey an account of the proceedings at the lines. That gallant officer, writing hurried notes to the officers commanding at Dam-Dam and Chinsurah, where were a wing of the 53d Foot and the newly arrived 84th, to be despatched should occasion demand it, galloped to the ground, accompanied by his two sons. The scene that met his gaze was unprecedented even in his long experience. He saw Manghal Pándi, musket in hand, striding up and down in front of the quarter-guard, calling upon his comrades to follow his example. He saw the sipáhís crowding about the guard, waiting apparently for a leader to respond to their comrade's call. He saw the wounded Baugh, and the bruised sergeant-major, the commanding officer of the 34th, who had arrived just before him, and other English officers who had hastened or were hastening to the spot. The moment was a critical one. It depended upon his action whether the Barrackpur sipáhí brigade would then and there break out in open mutiny. But Hearsey was equal to the critical conjuncture. Riding straight to the guard, he drew his pistol, and ordered them to do their duty by seizing Manghal Pándi, theatening to shoot the first man who should display the smallest symptom of disobedience. For a second only was there hesitation. But a glance at Hearsey's stern face, and at his two sons by his side, dissipated it. The men of the guard fell in, and followed Hearsey in the direction where Manghal Pándi was still upbraiding them for their cowardice in
