"I believe he was going to say that he would see about confirming our appointments when old Jung interrupted."

"Russell," said Claude solemnly, "I'm going to kidnap that Gurkha chap some dark night with a few of our Sikhs. Did you notice his diamonds? He just dazzled. Hullo, who's this?"

With a group of English officers who had witnessed the incident was a gentleman wearing an unmilitary frock-coat and Hessian boots, whom Ted had observed more than once in intimate conversation with the commander-in-chief. He now greeted the boys, and courteously asked what had interested the Maharaja so. Ted explained, and the stranger thanked him, and after a few moments' conversation, in which he drew out the youngsters to speak of those things which interested them most, he rejoined his friends.

"Who's that, Alec?" asked Ted. "He seems a clever chap. Decent too."

"Don't you know? It's your namesake of the _Times_."

"What? Dr. Russell?---- Crimea Russell?"

"That's the man. Sir Colin seems to think a lot of him, and trusts him absolutely with his plans."

Next day began the movements on Lucknow. On the morning of March 6th, Outram, with Hope Grant as second in command, set out to make a flanking movement and co-operate with Sir Colin from the north bank of the Gumti.

They were to work along the north-east and north of the city with a strong column, while the main force pushed forward from the east and south-east, the two armies being in touch and their artillery able to play upon the same positions from different sides. The rebel defences, it must be borne in mind, were vast and strong.

Outram's force marched away to the east, and to those ignorant of its destination it appeared to be deserting Lucknow. Before reaching the southward bend of the river the engineers constructed a bridge of floating barrels, over which the column crossed and proceeded northwards, and presently wheeled to the west and encamped, having completed the half of a circle. Alec Paterson was with Outram, Boldre's Horse with the Southern Army.

On March 9th a Union Jack floating over the Chaka Palace told that Outram had captured an important outpost, and that night he almost completed the circle, and encamped hardly more than a mile due north of Sir Colin, on the other side of the Gumti. The two armies were soon in direct communication, and as a consequence the rebels abandoned their first line of defence. The British loss was slight, but Sir William Peel, the newly-promoted seaman, had been mortally wounded.

On the 11th began the first serious fighting for the southern force. Sir Colin gave Jung Bahadur's army charge of the operations along the south-eastern line of defence, across the canal, whilst he attacked from the east, in touch with Outram. The Begum Kothi, a fortified palace which blocked the way, was stormed with splendid gallantry by Highlanders and Sikhs, the rebels being driven out after they had lost many hundreds of their comrades. A number of guns were captured, and Hodson was slain whilst performing one of his typical feats of valour.

[Illustration: THE REBEL REELED AGAINST THE WALL _Page 340_]

Boldre's Horse had little to do, the work lying with the artillery and infantry until the rebels fled, when the cavalry completed the rout. It was not safe to pursue too far, and Ted's Punjabis had the order to retire, when their young officer chanced to notice that in the confusion a handful of Gurkhas, whose zeal had outrun discretion, were faring badly at the hands of a number of better-armed pandies. He clapped spurs to his steed, and called on his men to charge. A Gurkha officer, his back to a wall, was defending himself gamely against five sepoys with bayonets. In the nick of time Ted sliced at one who, having reloaded, was in the act of firing, and his horse bowled over a second, while the lance of a Dogra sowar disabled a third.

The long lances of the Punjabis and the force of their charge prevailed, and, taking the surviving Gurkhas in their midst, they trotted back amidst a shower of badly-aimed bullets. Ted then perceived that the Gurkha officer was the man who knew Goria Thapa. His gratitude was great, but there was little time for speech-making.

The capture of the Begum Kothi was not only a brilliant, but also a useful, piece of work, by which they were soon to profit. The way was almost opened to the Kaiserbagh Palace, now a huge fortification mounting very powerful cannon, and this was the key to the position. But before this all-important defence could be carried by storm, it was first necessary to gain possession of the Imambara Mosque, and the infantry were held back for a time until Outram's guns from the north and Lugard's from the east should have made some impression upon the thick walls of the two stout buildings.

When the time did come for the infantry to act, a glorious response was made. General Franks sent forward the 10th Foot to support. For a time the resistance was fierce and courageous, but the English and Punjabis would not be denied. Pressing forward sternly, the rear ranks filling the gaps as the leaders fell, their determination at length cowed the pandies, and their bayonets cleared the Imambara. Then the way lay open to the Kaiserbagh, and British hearts beat high.

Sir Colin had not intended that his brigadier should attempt more than the Imambara that day, but seeing that the pandies had lost heart, Franks wisely took upon himself to strike a more decisive blow. While hotly pursuing the rebels from the Imambara the British troops had penetrated to a strong position overlooking the Kaiserbagh. It would be a thousand pities to relinquish this advantage. So Franks pushed forward reinforcements, and within a few hours the Kaiserbagh was in our hands, and to all intents Lucknow was gained and a decisive victory had crowned the British arms. The day had been brilliant and decisive, but marred by one unfortunate result of the commander-in-chief's over-caution.

Had Outram been allowed to swoop down from the north upon the broken rebels their collapse would have been complete; in fact the rebellion in Oudh would have been smashed. Outram was not only prepared, he was most anxious to do this. But Sir Colin, hardly realizing how thorough was the demoralization of the pandies, how real was their dread of the British bayonet, feared lest Outram's men should suffer heavily in securing the iron and stone bridges over the Gumti for the passage of his troops. He therefore gave Outram strict orders not to cross the river until he could do so without the loss of a single man. Outram could do nothing but obey and look on while the glorious chance slipped away.

There was still fighting in the streets of Lucknow, though the mutineers had lost their hold on the great city. Next in importance to Nicholson's storming of Delhi, the capture of Lucknow was the most severe blow the sepoys had received. Though the army would be employed for months sweeping the sepoys into the Terai jungle across the Nepal border, where Nana Sahib was finally lost, and though Sir Hugh Rose should chase the Nana's slim general, Tantia Topi, from pillar to post throughout the spring and summer of 1858 as Kitchener's generals chased De Wet, everyone understood that all danger to the British raj was over through this day's work.

Ted Russell was on foot in the streets of Lucknow with two or three Sikhs as Claude Boldre swept past with threescore troopers behind him.

"Horses been shot?" he called out in passing; and Ted nodded that it was so. Any attempt to pursue on foot would be useless, so they were turning back towards the Kaiserbagh, where the soldiers, Englishmen, Highlanders, Irishmen, Punjabis, and Jung Bahadur's Gurkhas, were busy looting the treasures of the palace. There were no pandies in sight, and Ted's dismounted sowars left their officer and ran off to share in the plunder.

The solitary Englishman was not unobserved, though there seemed to be no enemy at hand; in fact this particular street was deserted, except for a group or two of Englishmen and Irregulars several hundred yards away in the direction of the Kaiserbagh, and Ted's sowars, now half-way between these groups and their officers.

So the young Feringhi seemed an easy prey to the three concealed pandies who were furtively watching him from behind the curtains. A gleam of hateful satisfaction lit up their dark faces as they noiselessly slipped out of the house. Too late to draw his pistol, Ted heard the stealthy tread, but he had kept his sword drawn, and, turning quickly, he raised his blade to guard his head and ward off the blow that instinct told him was being aimed thereat. The tulwar, instead of cleaving his skull, glanced off the sword, and with diminished force bit into his shoulder.

He sank with a moan of pain, and the traitor raised his weapon for a deadlier stroke.

But before the blow could be repeated a pistol rang out, and the rebel reeled against the wall, then sank to his knees and tried to crawl away.

His companions, who had been a few yards to the rear of their comrade, hesitated, trying to make up their minds whether to run at once or first to despatch the wounded enemy. An Englishman in volunteer uniform and one of Ted's Sikhs, who had turned back, threw themselves upon the pandies, who hesitated no longer but fled like hares. Before a dozen steps had been taken in pursuit, one of the pandies turned, and, still running, fired. The Englishman staggered, spun round and dropped dead, and, as he fell, Ted saw his face, and knew that Tynan had wiped out the blot upon his honour. Then the ensign fainted away.

The Sikh brought back his comrades, and they carried their officer to the nearest surgeon, who was fortunately able to take the case in hand at once, or the boy would have died ere the sun rose upon another day.

Owing to the ignorance of the Sikhs the gush of blood had not been staunched, until the doctor, with quick grasp of the situation, did what was necessary to retain the young life that was fast ebbing away.

Next day Ted Russell was removed on a doolie to the Dilkusha, and he took no further part in the fighting that ensued before the Mutiny was finally extinguished. Recovery was slow, and a couple of months elapsed before he was able to walk even a short distance without fatigue. But no permanent injury had been caused by the blow, and by the end of July he could get about as usual, both on foot and on horseback; and on the day that he reported himself as fit for duty, he received the intimation that both he and his chum Paterson had been officially gazetted as lieutenants in the corps known as Boldre's Irregular Horse.

CHAPTER XXIX

Jim Disposed Of

That dignity had hardly been attained when an interesting ceremony, in which Ted played but a subordinate part, took place in Simla. Major Russell and Ethel Woodburn, finding how much they had to talk about, and how many thrilling experiences must be related, very sensibly came to the conclusion that their best course would be to marry with as little delay as possible.

Colonel Woodburn's natural objections to such haste had first to be overcome, but having at length become reconciled to the idea of losing his daughter, he allowed the date to be fixed. Charlie and Ted were sent for, and at the latter's urgent request, Subadar Goria Tapa was invited to the wedding. The Sirmur Battalion's head-quarters were then, as now, situated at no great distance from Simla, so that neither Captain Dorricot nor the subadar found any difficulty in attending. Captain Spencer was another guest whom Ted was glad to meet again. Rapidly as he had returned from Kashmir on hearing the news of the outbreak, he had been too late to join his regiment and take part in the march to Delhi.

John Lawrence had found employment for him with the Movable Column, and he had been badly wounded in the fighting that took place while Nicholson was in command.

Three days before the wedding date Ted entered Simla and greeted his brother with a salute. Now that the dull days of exile and inaction had come to an end he was in the merriest of moods.

"Come to report myself, sir," said he with a solemn face.

"Hullo, Lieutenant Russell, V.C.!" was his brother's greeting as Jim looked up from a table strewn with papers. "Glad you're looking fit again. I'm blest if I know what you want here, but Ethel would have you.

Nice nuisance you'll be, I know."

The words of this truly fraternal greeting were belied by the hearty handgrip. Ted retorted in kind.

"Well, that's brotherly love if you like," said he. "Wretched man! Here I've come, my heart swelling with sympathy and pity for you, and this is your return. I won't be sorry for you any longer, not one bit. Serves you jolly well right. Hope you forget the ring, and gash yourself whilst shaving, and that you're late, and that you get stuck in the service, and that your collar comes undone, and your tie crawls round your neck."

"Much obliged, I'm sure," replied Jim, laughing at his brother's boisterous spirits.

"Bless you, Major Russell, you're very welcome."

Jim winked with much deliberation, whereupon Ted thumped him between the ribs and continued his chaff.

"Cheer up, old man; it'll soon be over, and p'raps you'll recover.

You're not the first fellow to be married, though I suppose you imagine that there's never been such an important affair upon this poor old globe before. Cheer up! I've heard of fellows who've survived it."

"Thanks! I'm fairly cheerful considering, but being with the Lucknow Army don't seem to have improved your at-no-time very admirable manners."

"Never had any. Everybody used to tell me how much I took after my eldest brother. Seriously, Jim, I wish you'd been with us at Lucknow.

I've had a great time."

And Jim listened, leaning back with legs crossed and hands clasped behind his head, while Ted recounted some of the most striking episodes of the campaign and of his own adventures.

"You're a decent sort of kid, Ted," the elder brother allowed. "I wish the Guides had been there. Now I believe you're dying to have a chat with Ethel, and I know she's as anxious as can be to see you again. So go and find her, young 'un. I'm horribly busy and can't go with you. I would if I could, you may be sure."

"I will go and condole with her. _She_ needs some genuine sympathy and consolation, and she shall have it. How far is it? Worth taking the horse out again?"