Accordingly, the men of one half-battalion received rations and water, and were then sent to their zereba with the Gardner guns, while the other half, still lying in reserve by their piled arms, received their rations. The marines also sat down for brief rest and refreshment. Among them was our sedate friend Stevenson, who invariably carried his small Bible with him in all his campaigns. After quickly consuming his allowance, and while waiting for water, he sat down to read a few verses of the 23rd Psalm,--for Stevenson was one of those quiet, fearless men who cannot be laughed out of doing right, and who have no fear of the face of man, whether scowling in anger or sneering in contempt. "Hallo, Tom!" said a light-hearted comrade near him, "this is a queer time to be readin' your Bible. We'll be havin' you sayin' your prayers next!" "I've said _them_ already, Fred," replied the marine, replacing the book in his pouch. "As you say, it _is_ a queer time to be readin' the Word, but not an unsuitable time, for this may be the last chance that you and I will ever have of readin' it. Our next orders may be to meet God face to face." Stevenson was yet speaking when a Lancer was seen approaching at a wild gallop. He dashed up to the generals and informed them that the enemy was gathering in front. The message was barely delivered when another Lancer rode up and reported the enemy close at hand. The order, "Stand to your arms!" was promptly given and as promptly obeyed, without flurry or disorder. Next minute a wild uproar was heard, and the Lancers were seen galloping towards the square with thousands of the swarthy warriors of the desert at their heels--nay, even mixed up with them! On they came, a dark, frantic, yelling host, with irresistible fury, and, perchance, patriotism! Shall we deny to those men what we claim for ourselves--love of hearth and home, of country, of freedom? Can we not sympathise with men who groaned under an insolent and tyrannical yoke, and who, failing to understand or appreciate, the purity of the motives by which we British were actuated, could see nothing in us except the supporters of their enemies? They hurled themselves on that part of the large zereba which was defended by the Bengal Native Infantry. These fired a volley, but failed to check the impetuous rush. Everything went down before the savages, and the Native Infantry broke and fled, throwing into dire confusion the transport animals which stood in their immediate rear.