The troops crossed into Oude on the 2nd of November, and on the 3rd a salute fired from the mud fort on the Cawnpore side told them that, to their great delight, Sir Colin Campbell had come up from Calcutta. They were all burning to start for Lucknow. Every man in the regiment was determined to risk his life to save the women and children from the fate of Cawnpore. On their march they saw they were at once in an enemy’s country. None of the villages were inhabited. There was no chance of buying chupatties (girdle-cakes) or goat’s milk. It was the custom to serve out three days’ biscuits at one time, running four to the pound. Most men usually had finished their biscuits before they reached the first halting-ground. Before they made their first halt they could hear the guns of the rebels bombarding the Residency. Footsore and tired as they were, the report of each salvo made the men step out with a firmer tread and a more determined resolve to relieve those helpless women and children. On the 10th of November they were encamped on the plain about five miles in front of the Alumbâgh, about 5,000 of them, the only really complete regiment being the 93rd Highlanders, of whom some 700 wore the Crimean medal. They were in full Highland costume, feather bonnets and dark waving plumes--a solid mass of brawny-limbed men. The old chief rode along the line, saying a few words to each corps as he passed. The regiment remarked that none of the other corps had given him a single cheer, but had taken what he said in solemn silence. At last he came to the 93rd, who were formed close column, so that every man might hear. When Sir Colin rode up he seemed to have a worn and haggard expression on his face, but he was received with such a cheer, or rather shout of welcome, as made the echoes ring. His wrinkled brow at once became smooth, and his weary features broke into a smile as he acknowledged the cheer by a hearty salute. He ended his speech thus: “Ninety-third, you are my own lads. I rely on you to do the work.” A voice from the ranks called out: “Ay, ay, Sir Colin! ye ken us, and we ken you. We’ll bring the women and children out of Lucknow or die in the attempt;” and the whole regiment burst into another ringing cheer.