One evening, as my Commanding Officer, Captain Sanford, and I, after dining at mess, returned to the tent which we shared between us, he told me that I need not expect to enjoy that night a very long rest; for he had planned a little expedition on which I was to accompany him. He had got information from a spy of the whereabouts of a small body of the enemy at a village about twelve miles from our camp. He had already given orders for fifty of our men who had been separately and secretly told off to arm themselves and mount their horses as quietly as possible soon after midnight, and sneak out of camp, one by one, through a picquet which had been warned to let them pass. He had taken none of the officers except myself and the Adjutant into his confidence, partly to escape their importunities to be allowed to accompany us, and partly because there was no certainty that we might not be going on a wild goose chase. At the stroke of midnight we arose, dressed and armed ourselves, fortified our stomachs with a cup of hot tea, crammed into our holsters a cold roast fowl apiece and some chapatties, mounted our horses and stole out of camp to the rendezvous, where we found our party and a guide waiting for us. Placing the guide in front under the escort of a couple of sowars, and whispering to the men on the right flank to follow in single file, Sanford noiselessly led the way. Not till we had placed a couple of miles between ourselves and camp did we halt, form up, and "tell off," after which necessary proceeding we continued our journey, stumbling along in the dark over fields and by foot-paths till our guide intimated that we were within a mile of our destination. As it was still an hour or so before dawn we now halted, dismounted, looked to our girths, and loosened our swords in their scabbards. When we again moved on, preceded by a few scouts, with whom was the guide, the very faintest flush of light was beginning to suffuse the sky in the east. In a few minutes more the darkness of night had partially rolled away; and we could see, not far to our front, a group of thatched roofs, and a few tiny curls of blue smoke where some early risers had begun their preparations for breakfast. Almost at the same moment we came across two or three sepoys who had thus early come out into the field. Short shrift had they. We pressed on; and then a carbine shot broke the stillness, followed by the clattering of horses' hoofs, as a small picquet, which—strange to say—had actually been posted on the look-out, took the alarm and galloped away.

After them we went, ventre a terre, and drove them right into the village, which turned out to be a small one, and not in any way protected by earthworks. From the complete absence of any attempt at checking us by musketry fire, coupled with the uproar within the hamlet, it was evident that our sudden attack had smitten its defenders with panic; so Sanford with his usual boldness promptly decided to strike while the iron was hot. Detaching two small squads to sweep round the place and join us on the opposite side, he led the main party at a gallop straight up the main street, and through the village, into the fields beyond, which were already full of fugitives. They were all mounted, but many of them had been in such a hurry to bolt that they had not had time to saddle their horses. Though they were two or three times our number, and—if they had kept a really efficient look-out, could easily have beaten us off—they were so completely demoralised by terror that they did not make the slightest effort to rally, but fled in all directions, each man for himself, and each trying to make the fastest time on record. It may be imagined what a holiday this was for our fierce "Guides." Soon was the plain strewn with the bodies of their victims; and though many of the rebels when overtaken used their tulwars as well as they could, they only succeeded in slightly wounding a few of our men.

One unfortunate fellow, who fell to my lot, threw himself off his horse when I had nearly overtaken him, and boldly facing me on foot, tried to draw his tulwar; but the more he tugged the less would it leave the scabbard. For a moment I thought fear had paralysed his arm; but I discovered afterwards that he had tied his hilt to the scabbard, and in his hurry and very natural agitation had forgotten all about the fastening. It was not at all an unusual practice with native swordsmen to thus fasten up their tulwars, with the view of preventing their keen edges from getting blunted by friction.

For three or four miles we kept up the pursuit, when Sanford sounded the "halt" and "rally" and our scattered men gradually obeyed the summons, and assembled, many of them leading captured horses, and laden with loot in the shape of arms and odds and ends, among which were doubtless many gold mohurs and rupees extracted from the cummerbunds of the fallen sowars. Very unobtrusive was our return into camp that evening. Not till after dusk did we sneak in as we had sneaked out, by ones and twos; for we were by no means anxious that the General should come to hear of our unsanctioned escapade, till, at any rate, Sanford had found time to think over the most judicious excuse for it.

As we stretched our tired legs under the table in the mess tent, and refreshed our dry throats with a welcome draught of "tarbund" beer, we looked forward to a good night's rest after our day's adventures, for the force was not to resume its march till daylight next morning. At this juncture an official letter was brought by an orderly and handed to the commanding officer, whose face while he read it presented an interesting study. He ended its perusal with a low whistle clearly indicative of puzzled embarrassment; and then communicated its contents to the table. The staff officer of the column had, it seemed, the honour to inform him that the General had received information that a certain village—the very one we had paid our morning call at—was occupied by a strong outpost of the enemy's cavalry. Captain Sanford was desired to take all the available sabres of his regiment and beat up that outpost, timing his march so as, if possible, to effect a surprise about the break of day. In the event of the enemy proving too strong to be dislodged Captain Sanford was to communicate with the General, who would be found on the line of march previously notified in Orders. Here was a pretty dilemma; what was to be done now? It would never do at this stage of the affair to report that we had anticipated the General both in information and in acting on it. He would have been furious, so our commanding officer contented himself with acknowledging the receipt of the order. Once more, soon after midnight, we turned out, this time the whole Regiment, some 250 strong; and marched away in the same direction as on the previous night. Our spirits were not quite so lively as on that occasion, and Sanford was not so gay as usual; for he did not quite see his way out of the scrape he had got into.

At daylight we reached the village, now apparently deserted; and here we met with a wonderful stroke of luck: for in one of the houses we captured a foolish fellow, who, after escaping us the day before, had, thinking the coast was clear, come back in the night to recover some things which he had not had the leisure to pack up before taking his leave. The poor fellow's surprise was painful to witness; but he soon brightened up when he was promised his life on condition that he conducted us to the place where his comrades had taken refuge. This he undertook to do; and, to ensure his fidelity, his hands were securely tied together, and he was mounted on a stray pony, the leading rope of which was given in charge to a couple of men who had orders to shoot him if he attempted to escape.

He said that about six miles further we would find most of his comrades, who had established a bivouac in the open, for they had apparently had enough of village enclosures. His information proved perfectly correct. Directly the enemy saw our scouts they made off in an even greater hurry, if possible, than before. During the pursuit we, as usual, got a good deal scattered. Presently I observed two figures, far away to the left, disappearing into the distance, while behind them, at a long interval, was riding Captain Sanford, followed by a few men. After him I galloped as hard as I could go. When at last I overtook him I found him and his party halted at the gate of a "serai," inside which were about fifty sowars of the Jhujjur troops, with their horses picketed to pegs, and—best prize of all—two light brass guns.

The two figures I had first seen were one of the enemy pursued by a non-commissioned officer of ours who was generally known as the "Shahzada," and who was suspected of not being gifted with an excess of courage. The reader will judge, however, whether the suspicion was well founded. In the pursuit he had singled out one of the enemy, who, being nearly as well mounted as himself, had led him a long chase across country; but he had stuck to him till he ran him to earth in the serai, at the gate of which the Shahzada had to pull up, for it was full of "moofsids." Nothing daunted, he had produced from his belt an enormous horse pistol, covered the lot with it in a general sort of way, informed them that the "Guide Rissala"—name of terror to the rebels—was close at his heels, and threatened to drill a hole into the first man who stirred. The cowardly crew, who had doubtless heard all about the previous day's surprise and slaughter, were too frightened to move. In a few moments Sanford and his men reinforced the Shahzada; and when I rode up were all keeping guard at the gate. Before long we were joined by the main body of the regiment; and then the prisoners were secured; their horses seized; and Sanford, with a light heart, sat down to indite a short despatch to the General, informing him that we had captured fifty prisoners and two brass guns. This was sent off without loss of time; and we commenced our march to rejoin the column; but we were met by an order to stay where we were, as the column would come to us. So we retraced our steps to the serai. Whether Captain Sanford, on the General's arrival, made a clean breast of it, and told him the whole story of the previous day's affair or not, I know not. At any rate, we never heard anything more about it.

A capture of horses was always welcome, for that was the only way in which we could replace casualties among our own mounts; and casualties were pretty frequent in those days from wounds and hard work. We used to select the best of the captives and pass them into the ranks; and sell by auction in camp the others and those whom we rejected from among our own animals. Hitherto we had always considered such prize of war our own perquisites; and no one had interfered with us. It now happened, however, that a levy of mounted police was being raised; and this batch of horses was requisitioned for them. We were, much to our disgust, obliged to part with some of them; but I have a shrewd idea that many of the best remained picketed in our lines. For my own part I was determined to stick to a very handsome roan mare of which I had relieved her former owner, after putting it out of his power to ride her or any other mare any more. Whether the officer to whom the captured animals were to have been made over suspected that some were kept back or exchanged for "screws," I cannot say; but we heard that one of the prisoners was to be sent round our lines to identify them. Before he came the roan mare had been carefully groomed, her mane and tail dressed, my military saddle and bridle fitted on her, and a blanket thrown carelessly over the saddle and her loins. Very charger-like she looked, and very unlike what she had been an hour before. The prisoner when he came on his visit of inspection did not even look at her, but fixed his eyes on a grey Arab, for which I had given a long price some months previously, and after pretending to eye him critically all over, confidently declared that he was one of the captured horses. Such a transparent mistake effectually discredited his evidence; and he was turned out of our lines with ignominy. Many a hard day's work did that roan mare do afterwards; and I daresay she served the State as well when carrying an officer of Irregular Cavalry as she would have done if she had joined the new levy.

That mare was the only "loot" that I allowed myself to take during the Mutiny campaign; and as she was literally the "captive of my bow and spear," in so far as these weapons were represented by a Wilkinson blade, I cannot feel that I was very much to blame for keeping her. On at least one occasion, however, I was sorely tempted. We had taken possession of a deserted town; and our men were busily "searching for arms," a euphemism which covered the quest for many more valuable articles, when I rode into a courtyard under a gate so low that I had to cling to my horse's neck to avoid breaking my own. As I crossed the yard to where a group of my brother officers was standing, one of my horse's feet sunk deep into the ground, which was elsewhere as hard as a stone pavement. This was a sufficient hint to us to dig: and dig we did without delay. Imagine our excitement when, at a depth of two or three feet, we came upon the lid of a large iron chest. Some of our men had been helping us with native spades and hoes which had been left lying about in the huts; and we now placed a couple of them on sentry at the gate to warn off intruders, while we redoubled our labours, and before long had lifted the heavy chest out of its hole. It was locked, and for a time defied all our efforts to break it open. While this was being done, the ever vigilant Father of Evil took advantage of his opportunity. There could be no doubt that the chest, so carefully hidden, must be full of barbaric gold and gems. Why should we hand all this wealth over to the prize agents? Their operations were confined to Delhi. This village was clearly outside their sphere. They and their employÉs would never come near it. But for us the chest would never have been discovered. While thoughts such as these were being freely expressed and eagerly discussed the lid of the box was somehow or other forced open; and then was revealed—a mass of documents, quantities of papers bearing revenue stamps, numbers of unused stamps, and absolutely nothing else. These papers, though worthless to us, were yet of great importance and value, as we were informed by the political officers to whom they were made over.

After all "auld Clootie" had not wasted his time. He had succeeded in making some of us feel the power of a good solid temptation; and I daresay had a quiet laugh in his sleeve at our disappointment in not being permitted to succumb to it.

In this same deserted town a certain "Chobdar," a kind of Oriental "gold stick" of the old King's was suspected to be in hiding; and as he was particularly "wanted" by Sir John Metcalfe, the officer in political charge of Delhi, we instituted a very vigorous search for him. A young native lad had been won over by the blandishments of H—— to conduct us to a group of huts in one of which he asserted we should surely find the object of our quest. For an hour or more we hunted without success, when, in a small dark room, I noticed one of the large mud-built jars in which natives store their grain. This is, to describe it roughly, a section of a tube closed at both ends, about three feet in diameter and five or six feet high, and stands upright on one end. Near the top a circular hole is cut in the side, into which the grain is poured, and a lid is fitted on to this hole. Possibly Morgiana and the forty thieves flashed across my mind. At any rate I removed the lid, and shoving the muzzle of my revolver into the reservoir, requested its possible occupant to come out. The pistol certainly struck against something which yielded. So I thrust in my arm and caught hold of—a thick beard. A long pull and a strong pull—and out came the Chobdar at full length!

I made him over to my commanding officer, who delivered him up to the political authorities, who, for doubtless sufficient reasons, hanged him on a branch of a tree.

At length came the time when we were to try conclusions with the Nawab of Jhujjur. That rebel Chief was waiting for us at home in his capital, where he had collected a considerable force.

One day, after a long march which had brought our column within a few miles of Jhujjur, we, the Guides Cavalry and a body of Irregular Horse under Captain Pearse, were not a little disgusted by the receipt of orders to retrace our steps at once to a point not far from whence we had just come. To the subaltern mind there seemed no sense in this arrangement; and as our commanding officer did not enlighten us as to the reason for it, we grumbled a good deal as we hurriedly watered and fed our horses, and then started on the weary return march.

Late in the afternoon we had arrived at our destination, and were then warned to be in readiness to march again soon after midnight. Just before dark I had strolled a few hundred yards from camp by myself and was returning, when I was suddenly confronted among some low rolling sandhills by a "sowari" camel carrying two native riders. To present my revolver at them and call on them to halt took about a second; and so taken aback were they that they obeyed at once. I then made them dismount and lead their camel before me to camp. Far better would it have been for them if they had risked my fire and tried to escape; for on them was found a letter which they were carrying to the Jhujjur Nawab, and which contained the news of our movements and a guess at our strength. They paid the penalty which in all wars is exacted from spies. As things turned out their capture were a most fortunate accident; for when, in the darkness of the night, our small force of sabres paraded for the march, we were for the first time informed of the reason for our eccentric movements. It seemed that General Showers intended to attack Jhujjur that morning from the opposite side to that where we were now posted. His having taken us with him and then sent us back was a ruse de guerre, the object of which the reader will easily divine. He thought it more than probable that the Nawab and his troops when they were driven out of Jhujjur would—thinking the coast was clear in our direction—take that route to another strong place which lay behind us, and that they would fall into our hands.

We were warned to make as little noise as possible, and were strictly forbidden to smoke. We had a good many miles to cover before getting near Jhujjur, so we moved off in column of route. Shortly before dawn we heard a distant voice gaily singing and gradually becoming louder as it approached us. The minstrel proved to be one of a small party of sowars who must have been the most egregious cowards of the Jhujjur garrison, for they had evidently fled long before any one else; and were doubtless congratulating themselves on their timely escape from the fierce "Feringhis" when to their horror they found themselves in our midst. A few swift flashes of steel and their songs were over for ever.

The day began gradually to break as we pushed eagerly on, meeting at intervals other small parties, of whom not one escaped, though some made a desperate fight for life. At length, just before the sun rose, as we neared the summit of some rising ground which we were ascending, our scouts galloped back with news that the main body of the fugitives was within sight. We at once formed line to the front in rank entire, a formation which I may explain for the benefit of civilian readers, is composed of only one rank instead of two, and which, of course, doubles the extent of front; for our leader wished to frighten the enemy by an imposing show of force, rightly judging that at a distance they would not see that we had no rear rank. Our line advanced to the crest of the high ground, and then burst on our view a sight which can never be forgotten.

A gentle slope stretched away from us, ending in a wide plain which was covered with a huge crowd moving towards us in a disorderly mob. Fighting men on horse-back and on foot—on camels—on a stray elephant or two—in bullock carts and "ekkas"—without any show of discipline or regular formation, mingled with hundreds of non-combatants all pressing tumultuously onwards.

For a moment our long line halted full in view of the enemy. Then rang out the commands "Prepare to draw swords."—"Draw swords." Our sabres flashed into light, gleaming in the rays of the rising sun. "Forward at a walk;" "March;" "Trot;" "Gallop;" "Charge." Down the slope we thundered. Like the sands on a dry plain struck by a sudden squall the dense mob before us with a wild cry of despair, broke into fragments and fled—in vain! Our impetus carried us into the midst of them. For miles we pursued them, and heavy was the loss we inflicted on those who bore arms.

Theoretically, cavalry should at all times be kept well in hand and under perfect control. Practically, it would be quite as easy to bind the winds after they had burst out of the bag of Æolus, as to control cavalry once launched in pursuit. What else could possibly be expected? The enemy, if mounted, scatters in flight in all directions, and at racing pace. If they are to be overtaken and destroyed the pursuers also must scatter, and at still greater speed. A very few minutes will cover miles of country with a rapidly extending fan of more or less isolated swiftly-moving groups. Such, at any rate, was our frequent experience during the Mutiny campaigns. The only remedy would have been to have invariably kept a strong reserve; but this precaution was, with such contemptible antagonists, hardly necessary. After the first few trials of strength the rebels had thoroughly learned the lesson that an encounter with our troops in the open field invariably meant defeat, and that the consequences of defeat were terrible. Having no real discipline or organisation, and no confidence in their leaders, they always met us with what may be best described as nervous hesitation; and their promptitude in bolting was often astonishing. Frequently would individuals and small knots of men turn to bay and fight manfully; but usually not till they also had yielded to the general impulse of panic, and had joined for a time in the stampede.

In this pursuit I had the good fortune to kill a mutineer who must undoubtedly have been concerned in the murder of some European, for I found on him a gold mourning ring bearing on the circlet, in black enamelled letters, the words "In memory of." The stone, which evidently must have been inscribed with some name, was missing. The wretch made no fight, but died like a cur, with my blade through his back. Observing that his cummerbund bulged considerably, I unrolled it; and out of its folds fell a quantity of rupees and other things, among which was the ring, which I took, leaving the rest of the loot for any one who might be inclined to pick it up. I placed the ring on one of my fingers, resolving, when the opportunity should offer, to have a bloodstone inserted in it, with the date 1857.

To my great regret, later in the day, I found that the ring, which was rather loose for my finger, had slipped off it, and was lost.

It will be admitted that when we joined the rendezvous at Jhujjur we had, during the past forty-eight hours, done a fair share of work; but more was in store for us. The Nawab was a prisoner in the hands of the General, who decided to send him without delay to head-quarters at Delhi; and we were ordered to escort him. Accordingly in the afternoon the Nawab, who was a heavy, corpulent man, was placed in a doolie provided with a large number of bearers; and once more our tired horses were on the move. I forget what was the distance between Jhujjur and Delhi; but I well remember that the march was a very long and fatiguing one; and that it was not before the dawn of next day that we had finished it, and were able to hand our prisoner over to other custodians.

He was duly tried, found guilty, and hanged in the Chandni Chowk, the principal street of Delhi.