Resuming their route, they entered the village, and found several men sleeping near the _chubootra_, or native office. Rousing one of the sleepers, they informed him that they were spies sent to discover the strength of the enemy, and requested him to direct them to the English camp. The sleeper, enraged at being disturbed, gave them a surly answer; and, advancing, they passed to the other guards about three hundred yards apart. It was fortunate for them that the enemy had thrown out no sentries, and were seated in a half-drowsy state around their watch-fires. They passed between the two fires without being challenged, and soon after met some villagers, who informed them that they were fleeing before the English. They inferred from this that Sir Colin Campbell’s encampment must be close at hand; and, after losing their way and again nearly falling into the hands of the rebels, they reached a grove about four o’clock in the morning, and Kavanagh, regardless of the remonstrances of the guide, threw himself on the ground to sleep for an hour. Before he had closed his eyes he was startled by the challenge, in a native accent, “Who comes there?” and sprang to his feet. Perhaps those three simple English words, pronounced by native lips, were the sweetest words he ever heard in his life. They had stumbled upon a picket of Sikhs, and the officer in command requested two Sowars to conduct them to the advance-guard. Kavanagh was almost dead with cold and fatigue, but a kind-hearted officer of the 9th Lancers supplied him with clothes and refreshments. The adventures of the past night seemed to him like a fearful dream; now that they were past he could scarcely realize them. The whole English camp was struck with admiration of a deed unsurpassed in the annals of the heroic ages, and each vied with the other in doing honour to one whom they were proud to call their countryman. Even the stern and impassive old Scottish chief—usually so sparing in his praise, so severe in his reproof—was touched by the unselfish heroism of such a deed. In the darkened tent, unseen by human eye, Kavanagh knelt down and expressed his gratitude to Him who had taken him from the miry clay and conducted him in safety through the hosts of the enemy. His next thought was of his wife and children; and before lying down to rest he had the flag of the semaphore in the Alum Bagh hoisted as the signal of his safety. It was in vain that he tried to sleep; his over-excited brain refused to be lulled to rest. At eleven o’clock he was seated at Sir Colin’s table, surprising his entertainer by the strangeness of his adventures and the strength of his appetite. His assistance was invaluable in explaining the plans drawn up by Sir James Outram, and in pointing out the best route for advancing through Lucknow. By exposing his own life he saved that of many a gallant soldier who would otherwise have been lost; and Sir Colin