For a time all was joy within the garrison, but there was still much work to be done, much suffering to be endured. The Red Gate was still in the possession of the enemy: Kavanagh undertook to conduct a party to a spot where they could seize it by surprise. At the moment of danger the two young officers in command lost courage, and treated their guide as a drunken madman. An unsuccessful attempt was made to reach the Alum Bagh, where there was a small garrison of our men. On this occasion Kavanagh was one of the first to advance, the last to retreat; he often spent whole nights in the mines, worked his way into those of the enemy, and brought his revolver to bear upon them with deadly effect. A master of Hindustani, he could scold as well as shoot, and it was difficult to say whether his tongue or his rifle was more galling to the enemy. Havelock’s men brought no provisions with them, and, as there were now more mouths to be fed, the rations were reduced in quantity. We have heard many a soldier say that he would rather go without his dinner than his pipe, and the poor smokers had to use dried tea and bitter herbs as a substitute for tobacco. But the sufferers bore up manfully, and their sufferings were all but forgotten when, on the 9th of November, a spy arrived with a despatch from Sir Colin Campbell, announcing that help was at hand. Plans had been previously drawn up for the guidance of the Commander-in-Chief in effecting his entrance into the Residency, but it was felt that they could be of little use unless some one familiar with the locality could reach his camp for the purpose of explaining them.