On the morrow, the day of the final struggle, Nanukchund says: "I was in the streets soon after noon-time. People who have seen the fighting declare that the rebels are running back, and that the mutineers are trying to escape from the battle. Intelligence of this sort was brought from time to time till it got dusk. The bad people are all crestfallen, and advising each other to quit the town. I saw Kalka, a barber by caste, who took service as a trooper under the Nana, running in for his life, and trying to get something to eat from the bazaar. A little while after it was proclaimed by beat of drum, that the inhabitants must not get alarmed, as there were only one hundred Europeans remaining: and that whoever brought in the head of an Englishman should receive a hundred rupees. But news came that the Sahibs were close upon the cantonments, and the man who was beating the drum abandoned it and fled." At nightfall Dhoondoo Punth entered Cawnpore upon a chestnut horse drenched in perspiration, and with bleeding flanks. A fresh access of terror soon dismissed him again on his way towards Bithoor, sore and weary, his head swimming and his chest heaving. He was not in condition for such a gallop, the first earnest of that hardship and degradation which was thenceforward to be his portion. Far otherwise had he been wont to return to his palace after a visit of state in the English quarter, lolling, vinaigrette in hand, beneath the breath of fans, amidst the cushions of a luxurious carriage, surrounded by a moving hedge of outriders and running footmen. Once again in the home of his fathers he slept as the wicked sleep, whose sin has found them out; and, when the morrow's sun had set, he departed in craven trepidation, and was never after seen among the haunts of peaceful men. But he was true to himself, even in the crash of his falling dynasty: for, as he stepped on board the barge that was to transport him to the confines of Oude, he bethought him of the young mother who was recovering from the pains of childbirth in the recesses of the female apartments. For the first time he had practised economy in his enjoyments, and was now well repaid: for his savings had borne high interest. There were two English lives to take where a fortnight ago there had been but one. And then, having filled to overflowing the measure of his guilt, he passed away like a thief in the night, and left his wealth to the spoiler, and his halls to the owl and the snake.