The defence of the magazine was stubborn. The mutineers were mad with rage. They rallied to their war-cry of “Deen! Deen!” They pressed forward like a resistless tide. They rent the air with their howling. They discharged showers of musket-balls at the walls, which every moment gave tongue, and sent forth volumes of death-dealing grape and canister. But presently the fire began to slacken. The ammunition of the besieged was getting short, and none of them could leave their posts to descend into the magazine to get up fresh supplies. The sea of human beings without poured on. They gained courage as the discharge of the guns from the arsenal became less frequent. They pressed forward yard by yard. They gained the walls, against which scores of scaling-ladders were placed. Then the enemy streamed over, but the brave defenders had backed to their line of guns, and for a time kept the foe at bay, until even, as Willoughby had said it should be, the mutineers were almost able to mount to the parapets by the piled-up bodies of their slain. Still they poured on, in their mad confusion, shooting down their comrades. The ammunition of the defenders was all expended now. The lion-hearted Willoughby rushed to the bastion on the river face. One more look--a long, anxious look--towards Meerut, but not a sign of coming succour. Meerut had failed them! Willoughby returned to his guns. Half-a-dozen of them were still loaded; but he saw that all hope had passed. Further defence was useless. “Comrades,” he said, “you have fought nobly, and England shall ring with your praises. We have defended our charge until defence is no longer possible. We are beaten by multitudes, but we are not conquered, and we do not know the meaning of the word surrender. When in happier days peace shall once more dawn over this fair land of India, when men shall recount the deeds done during this cruel day, may it be said that we did our duty as soldiers, and that we died like brave men.” The natives were swarming down the walls now. They were inside the arsenal. Willoughby and his friends discharged their last round, and dozens of the enemy fell. Then the noble Commandant held up both his hands. It was the signal agreed upon. Scully shifted his eyes from his leader; then he cast one look around at the living mass that covered the walls and bastions. He bent his arm; the port-fire and the powder came together. Up leapt a great white flame. With a terrible hiss it rushed along the ground, through a dark archway, where it was lost sight of until it reached the open powder. Then there was a terrific shock. The whole building seemed to be blown into the air. The very earth shook with the awful convulsion. The air was filled with bright, lurid flame. Dense volumes of smoke obscured the sun, and for miles around the report was heard.