Meanwhile our left flank was overlapped, and the beggars were trying to get round our left rear into our camp. Off went the left squadron, supported by the other two guns, with our Marines and Sikhs, and mowed them down beautifully. By 1 P.M. the rebels had enough of it, and began to retire in earnest. Our fellows then all along the line took up one continued cheer, and rushed them. This was too much for the enemy, who for a time made off completely. They took up a fresh position some four miles farther on, where there was a village with a large tope of trees; but they did not remain long. We drove them out. It was now about 2 P.M., and our fellows were clean done up by the great heat. The General ordered a halt. The enemy gradually retired in all directions from our front; and, beyond a few stray shots from their artillery while we were resting in the shade, the fight was virtually over. I had a good deal of galloping about all that morning. No sooner was I back from one order than off I was sent on some other errand. It was most interesting work. I had constantly to cross some part of the plain where the fire was raging hot. In went my spurs on these occasions. I could generally see the round shot coming. One of them came ricochetting straight at me. Luckily, I was crossing a bit of ploughed or soft land. The shot actually finished its last bound under my horse’s legs without touching them. Once or twice I found some of our native troops hanging back under shelter of old walls, the ruins of some old village. This so annoyed me that, finding strong language of no avail, I used the flat of my sword on more than one man’s back. My Chief was very calm all that morning; but I could see very plainly that he was anxious as to results. On my returning from my message he was very impatient to know if the orders were being carried out. He had two other gallopers that day, and they too were hard at it. We took seven guns: one an 18-pounder, three brass 9-pounders, and others of smaller calibre. Here it was that a very good messmate of mine, Fowler, was killed by a round shot; not half a minute before he had passed me and said, “I say, old Victor, look at this,” showing me where a grape shot had gone through the bottom of his trousers. This was a sad loss to us all. That night I helped to dress him in clean white clothes, and we laid him in his last resting-place. Our casualties were astonishingly few. I attribute this to the thinness of our line and the wretched shooting of the enemy. The hostile force were large enough to eat us had they had any system of fighting; but, I suppose, they thought that their great masses would frighten us clean away. The incident showed what method and discipline can do against a mob. Many of the Sepoy regiments had come from Oude. There they had been thoroughly thrashed; and they fought us that day with their tails between their legs.