"Ask him to resign, I expect," Jim opined.

But that officer of the 15th Derajats had already resigned. Before he and his escort had left the Ridge a shell from one of the Mori 24-pounders exploded in their midst, killing the major and one sepoy and wounding four others. Ted, however, did not learn this until the following day, and at the same time he heard that Nicholson had left the camp and ridden out to bring in his column, which was now close at hand.

"Before I forget, here's something for you, Ted," Jim exclaimed, after the three had discussed the ensign's adventures at some length. "The mail came while you were away, and I had a letter from Ethel enclosing this for you."

Jim handed his brother a note, which Ted promptly opened and read.

"It's very jolly of her! The colonel has nearly completely recovered, she says, and they are quite safe. Will you swop letters, Jim?"

"Wouldn't you like to? Cheeky young cub!"

Charlie laughed.

"I've already offered him half my daily pay for a sight of the precious document, and he's waiting for me to raise the bid. He's been looking so radiantly absurd, young 'un, since he received it, that I've been longing to throw my boots at him, but unfortunately I can't get at them."

Jim winked solemnly at his cousin, and appeared far too happy to be abashed by the satire of his facetious relatives.

Before long news reached the Ridge that the Punjab Movable Column was coming in. The whole camp turned out to meet Jan Nikkulseyn's ever-victorious men. Brigadier Nicholson was, of course, under General Sir Archdale Wilson, yet the whole army looked upon him as the man destined to lead them to victory. All felt that a great soldier was in their midst--nor were they disappointed. Hardly had he arrived before he led them out to attack the foe at Nujufgurh, where a splendid success was won, and the enthusiasm of the wearied troops was aroused.

On the 4th September the last reinforcements came in. The remainder of the 60th Rifles arrived from Meerut to join their brethren, the comrades of the little Gurkhas at the house of Hindu Rao, as well as a contingent from the Dogra ruler of Jummu and Kashmir. But the whole camp turned out to cheer a still more welcome reinforcement which accompanied these.

Escorted by the Rifles came the guns--the big guns, the siege guns, the real guns at last! With slow and stately tread, as though conscious of their importance and of the impression they were making, the massive elephants--two harnessed to each gun--appeared in sight, hauling the ponderous cannon to the place that needed them so much. With what delight the long-looked-for guns were greeted may well be imagined. The fortunate soldiers of 1857 had never heard the classic phrases "Now we sha'n't be long!" and "Let 'em all come!", but if they had, they would certainly have used them.

In the thick of the crowd was Ted, who had got leave of absence from the Ridge, and as Alec could not accompany him, he looked out for any other chums who might be there, and soon caught sight of the khaki and blazing scarlet of Claude Boldre, gay with the colours of the "Flamingoes". They greeted Lieutenant Roberts, who was busy with his multifarious duties as D. A. Q. M. G., but cheerful and brisk as ever, and stood behind a group of hilarious Tommies.

"Here come the guns at last!" cried a carabineer in an ecstacy of enthusiasm.

"Git away wid ye, it's Wombwell's menagerie comin' to give us an entertainment!" declared an Irish private.

"Nice little ponies them are, drorin' them!" was another comment.

"What--the uttees? Three cheers for the bloomin' uttees!"[19]

[19] "Uttee" is Mr. Thomas Atkins' rendering of "hathi", the Hindustani for elephant, as readers of _The Jungle Book_ will know.

"What'll we do wiv the huttees when we've got the guns fixed hup?

They'll heat their 'eads hoff 'ere. There won't be none of hus left for fightin'; we shall hall 'ave to go hout foragin' for food for the helephints hall day," observed a soldier of Cockney extraction.

"Ay," a friend replied, "and they'll want exercising. Bill, you'll 'ave to go and take 'arf a dozen helephints for a run every mornin' before breakfast, same as you used to do them fox-terriers you used to have."

Bill was wont to boast of the ratting qualities of his dogs at home.

"Ay, Bill," chaffed another. "Go an' take 'em rattin' along the banks of the Jumner; they're beggars for rats are uttees."

Bill was equal to the occasion, however, and readily replied:

"Nothin' of the sort! General told me has the helephints was comin'

to-day, an' 'e says to me, 'Bill,' sez 'e, 'wot are we to do with them uttees when they come?' 'General,' sez hi, 'why not mount the Gurkeys on 'em an' make 'em into light horsemen?--there's nobody else's legs 'ud go round a huttee.' 'Bill,' sez 'e, 'you're a genius!'"

The laugh that followed showed that Bill had scored, and a group of officers standing by, who had up to this point tried to preserve a sedate demeanour, joined in the merriment at the thought of a little Gurkha perched astride one of the monsters. Regardless of the jests at their expense, the huge pachyderms came steadily on through the clustered ranks of interested and gaping spectators.

"By gum, boys, them are guns! We'll soon be in Delhi now!"

"Three cheers for the Bengal Artillery! and three more for John Lawrence who sent them!"

The cheers were lustily given, for hopes ran high.

"They ought to make short work of the walls," said Claude. "I think we're going to have a look in at last."

"Yes; we're all getting a bit sick of waiting. Hope we can get a good place in the stalls when the theatre doors open," Ted replied.

"And I hope Nicholson leads us. By the way, I suppose you've heard nothing fresh from Aurungpore?"

"Nothing."

"That's rough on you. It must be horribly upsetting to have the matter hanging over so long."

"It is. I'm glad we're kept so busy, though, as I haven't much time to think of it."

"Never say die! Truth will out, you know, and you'll be all right. Alec Paterson told me the whole story. That chap Tynan must be a pretty average cad. More guns coming!"

"'Ullo!" exclaimed our friend Bill as the end of the procession came into sight, "where's the rest of the show? There's nothing but huttees!"

"No more there isn't. This is a bloomin' fine circus, this is!"

"Here, you!" shouted a dragoon to a dignified mahout, "where's yer giraffes, an' 'ippopotamusses, an' ricoconoseroses, an' kangeroos? Why, there ain't no clowns nor hacrobats!--this is a fraud! Gimme me money back, I can see a better menagerie than this in Hengland!"

"Ay, give us our money back!" chimed in the others in tones of simulated indignation; and roars of laughter went up, to the astonishment of the staid Sikhs and Punjabis, and to the delight of the jolly little Gurkhas.

But though the whole camp was in such high spirits, the more knowing ones understood that Delhi had not fallen yet, and that these cannon were no bigger, and were greatly inferior in number to those mounted on the city walls. Also that the mutineers' guns, being sheltered by the solid masonry, were twice as effective as their own unprotected armament.

During the next few days the whole camp helped the Engineers to put into execution the plan of attack which Colonel Baird Smith's masterly brain had planned. At dead of night the soldiers constructed batteries and shelter-trenches between the English camp and the walls, in positions where it would have meant death to have worked by daylight. Before long thousands of gabions[20] and acres of fascines[21] had been made for the protection of gunners.

[20] Gabions are hollow cylinders of basket-work filled with earth.

[21] Fascines are large bundles of brushwood faggots.

On the eventful morning of 8th September, 1857, Major Brind of the Artillery--a man concerning whom an officer present observed: "Talk about the V.C., why, Brind should be covered with them from head to foot!"--is given the honour of commencing the bombardment from No. 1 Battery, only seven hundred and fifty yards from the walls. In spite of all Brind's labours of the night, the sun rises before his battery is ready for action, and the mutineers at once perceive his designs.

Pitiless showers of well-directed grape plunge in and around the battery. Though but half-sheltered from this terrible fire, Brind's gunners, assisted by a detachment of the Gurkhas of the Kumaon Battalion, go on with the rapid completion of the work. At length a single howitzer is dragged into position, and the first shot of the real bombardment is fired. It is but a feeble retort to the thundering giants of the Mori and Kashmir bastions, and the foemen laugh as they continue to pound the gallant little band with round-shot, grape, and shell. Ted from his post on the Ridge looks on with disappointed eyes.

But before long a second gun is on its platform, and then a third, and the rebels laugh no longer. And soon the battery is complete; five 18-pounders and four 24-pounders, magnificently aimed and served, are replying in earnest, as though the very cannon knew how long the army had been waiting for them, and had resolved to do their duty and show that the waiting had not been in vain. With high hopes and expectations thousands of British, Gurkha, Pathan, Sikh, and Dogra soldiers look on at the awful duel. Idle spectators are they, unable to assist, and safe from the venomous fire of the rebel cannon which are now all directed to the destruction of this impertinent No. 1 Battery. The insurgents stand manfully to their guns, but the finest artillerymen in the world are serving under Brind, and at length, to the delight and amid the resounding cheers and hurrahs of the spectators, the massive masonry of the Mori Bastion, that looked but yesterday strong enough to defy an earthquake, begins to crumble away. The answering fire slackens and dwindles down.

By this time No. 2 Battery (Campbell's) is ready, but is directed to wait until No. 3 can also be prepared, in order that the enemy's surprise may be the greater. With No. 2 is a party of the Jummu contingent, who are at first unwilling to ply spades and shovels or pile sand-bags, murmuring that they are come to fight, not to do coolie work.

As the mutineers blaze away, these Dogra Rajputs, throwing down shovels, seize their muskets and fire harmlessly at the stone walls, to the great danger of the artillerymen. They are at once told by Major Campbell that they are there to work and not to play at fighting, and they manfully settle down to the uncongenial task.

The attention of the foe having been purposely attracted by No. 1 Battery, No. 3 (Scott's)--partially prepared during the night, and concealed by grass and branches of trees--has been secretly at work, and is ready on the morning of the 12th. Dangerously near to the rebel cannon is No. 3; less than two hundred yards separate the British gunners from their antagonists. Almost at the same moment No. 4 Battery (Major Tombs') prepares for action. To achieve the secret completion of these batteries has been the brilliant work of Colonel Baird Smith and of his worthy second in command, Engineer-Captain Alexander Taylor.

For three days Brind's guns have been reducing the gigantic and formidable Mori Bastion to powder, whilst the other three batteries have been preparing to lend him a hand.