About an hour elapsed before the attack was resumed. During this interval the beleaguered party broke through the plaster and took up their position in the outer room. Thus far they had made good their defence, but a still greater danger awaited them. As they were congratulating themselves on their success they heard a dull, heavy, rumbling noise. Home started up and shouted, “Now, men, or never! Let us rush out and die in the open air, and not be killed like rats in a hole. They are bringing a gun on us!” The men were preparing to act on this advice, when they observed that it was not a gun but a screen, moved on wheels, which the rebels pushed up against the door. A minié rifle fired at the distance of a few yards made no impression on it. On observing this our men retreated into the room they had formerly occupied, while the enemy mounted on the roof, broke through the plaster, and threw lighted straw down upon them. The house took fire; their position was no longer tenable, and death seemed to stare them in the face. What were they to do? One thing was evident—they could no longer remain in the house; the smoke and heat had become intolerable. Raising the three most helpless and wounded in their arms, they rushed through the back door into the open square. At the distance of about ten yards they observed a shed on the north side of the square and made for it. During the passage the three wounded men were hit, and subsequently died of their wounds, while those who carried them escaped unhurt. Among the wounded was Lieutenant Swanson, of the 78th, whose name has been already mentioned. They found the floor of the shed covered with dead and dying Sepoys. This movement took the enemy by surprise; they had expected them to issue forth by the door, and not by the way they came; and though the little party was exposed to the fire of at least six hundred men, none but the wounded were hit. On rallying their forces they found that they had six men capable of bearing arms, and four wounded able to do duty as sentries. It was now three o’clock in the afternoon, and, though their position seemed desperate, no one dreamed of surrendering; they knew that they could expect no mercy from their ruthless assailants, and determined to hold out to the last. Their position must be known to the general; Havelock was not a man to abandon them in the hour of danger. Could it be that his gallant little army had been destroyed by the rebels, and that they were the last survivors? If so, their only resource was to hold out to the last and to sell their lives as dearly as possible.