A nasty tumble into a swamp, which washed the black from Kavanagh’s hands, was their next most serious _contretemps_. For some time they waded through it waist-deep, having gone too far to recede before they discovered it was a swamp. An hour afterwards they stole unobserved through two pickets of sepoys and gained the shelter of a grove of trees, where Kavanagh insisted on having a good sleep. Kunoujee Lal, by no means assured that they were out of danger, kept a fearful watch, but nobody came near them save some flying natives, who stated that they had been pursued by British soldiers. Kavanagh having been roused, the two went on once more. Another mile or so was traversed, and then (it being about four o’clock in the morning of the 10th) the welcome challenge “Who goes there?” rang on their ears. It was a mounted patrol of Sikhs. They had reached the British outposts. Two men of the patrol guided Kavanagh and his companion to the camp, where they were immediately conducted into the presence of Sir Colin Campbell. When he learned that Kavanagh had come through the rebel lines, the Commander-in-Chief could not find enough words to express his admiration. “I consider his escape,” he wrote in his despatch, “at a time when the entrenchment was closely invested by a large army, one of the most daring feats ever attempted.” For his part, Kavanagh paid a generous tribute to his fellow-spy, Kunoujee Lal, who had displayed wonderful courage and intelligence in their trying journey. When they were questioned, it was the native who did most of the speaking, and he always had a ready answer for the most searching interrogation. The news of Kavanagh’s arrival was signalled to Lucknow by means of a flag from the summit of the Alumbagh, and Outram’s mind was set at ease. In due course the plucky Irishman guided Sir Colin into the city, being present through all the fierce fighting at the Secunderabagh and the Moti-Mahal, and further distinguishing himself by saving a wounded soldier’s life. Nor does this close the tale of his adventures, for he passed through many exciting experiences in rebel-hunting ere the Mutiny was suppressed. Kavanagh lived to wear the Victoria Cross for twenty-three years, dying in 1882 at Gibraltar. His Cross was presented by his son to the N.W.P. and Oudh Provincial Museum at Lucknow, while the tulwar, shield and pistol he bore on his journey, together with other articles of his disguise, are preserved in the Dublin Museum. [2] Afterwards Lord Napier of Magdala. CHAPTER XIV. INDIA.--SOME OTHER CROSSES OF THE MUTINY. The full tale of the Crosses of the Mutiny (do they not number one hundred and eighty-two in all?) is a long one, and cannot be told here. But before bringing this chapter of V.C. history to a close I must tell of yet a few more and the manner of their winning, for they call to mind deeds which we ought not willingly to let fade from our memories.