There is not much more to be said. Lieutenant Philip Salkeld died a few days later, but not before he knew that the Cross for Valour had been conferred upon him. Sergeant Smith and the bugler were the only two destined to wear the coveted decoration in memory of that day’s desperate deed. Lieutenant Duncan Home figures in the list of V.C. heroes with his brother-lieutenant by reason of the Cross having been provisionally bestowed upon him by General Wilson. His end, which came scarcely three weeks later, was a dramatic one. In the attack on Fort Malagarh it was expedient to lay a mine and make a breach in the wall. Home superintended this operation, and lit the slow match himself. The fuse appearing to have gone out, he went forward to examine it and relight it if necessary, but at the moment he stooped the light reached the powder and the mine blew up. CHAPTER XI. INDIA.--THE STORY OF KOLAPORE KERR. The scene of the incident which I am about to narrate was Kolapore (or Kolhapur, as the modern spelling has it), an important town in the Bombay Presidency. Even before the Mutiny broke out there had been no little disaffection among the people in that quarter of India, and when the news of the revolt at Meerut and Delhi reached the Presidency grave fears were entertained lest the native troops there should join the rebels. It was characteristic of most English officers attached to native regiments in those days that they firmly believed in the loyalty of their men. Only at the last moment, when the soldiers they had drilled and taught broke into open mutiny, could they grasp the truth, and then it was often too late. But in Bombay there was one officer whose trust was not belied. This was Lieutenant William Alexander Kerr, of the Southern Mahratta Irregular Horse. “I know my men,” he would say, when the question of loyalty was raised, “and I know they are true. I’ll answer for _my_ troopers at any time.” Rather short men were these Mahrattas, but sturdy, stocky fellows with somewhat flat features, long jet black hair, and bronze faces, out of which small fiery black eyes gleamed at one. They were excellent fighters, as many a hill fight had proved, and there were not a few officers in India who would as soon have had a company of wild Mahratta warriors at their back as Sikhs or Punjabis, when it came to a tussle. Lieutenant Kerr certainly held this opinion. Long service with them had made him acquainted with their courage and faithfulness. “The Bombay Infantry may rise, but not my Mahrattas,” he affirmed. “There isn’t a man among them who wouldn’t follow me to the ends of the earth!”