Edward Russell was a lad who had faults enough, but he had never been cruel. He would not needlessly torture the humblest of God's creatures, yet he felt, as he listened to the horrible tidings, that nothing would give him greater pleasure than the blowing up of Delhi and of every sepoy therein. Unhappily this red-hot indignation was nursed by many Englishmen until they forgot the traditions of their race. The few hundred Englishmen in Cawnpore had been attacked by Dundu Pant, Rajah of Bithur, better known as the infamous Nana Sahib, a man who had posed as a civilized Asiatic, an imitator of the English. The garrison, composed of detachments of several regiments, of civilians, and of officers whose regiments had risen, was trapped in a position unsuited to a long defence. After a gallant stand, General Sir Hugh Wheeler was convinced that in another day or two all would be over, and for the sake of the women and children, who numbered more than three hundred, he agreed to make terms. Dundu Pant swore that if they would give up the entrenchment, the guns, and the treasure, he would have them all conveyed in boats down the Ganges to a place of safety. The black Mahratta's promises and protestations deceived them all, and they embarked. The boats were taken out into mid-stream, when suddenly a bugle blew; the boatmen sprang into the river, and from both banks lines of hidden sepoy marksmen began to pick off the betrayed Feringhis. Four Europeans escaped to tell the tale. The lucky ones were those who were killed by the bullets. Many were taken alive from the water, and of these the men were murdered at once; the women and children were led away to endure a captivity of more than a fortnight's duration. Hearing of Havelock's approach, Dundu Pant then performed the second act of the ghastly tragedy which has made his name world-infamous. The poor captives, numbering perhaps two hundred, were hacked to death, and their bodies thrown down a well. Small wonder that British blood should boil over when the story was told; small wonder that the men of the 60th Rifles should shake their fists as they looked from the Ridge into the rebel capital, towards the distant palace and home of vice, and should vow vengeance on every faithless sepoy, be he Mohammedan like the King of Delhi or Hindu like the Mahratta rajah.