On the morning of the 14th of November they began the advance on the Dilkoosha Park and Palace. The Fourth Brigade, composed of the 53rd, 93rd, and 4th Punjab Regiments, with a strong force of artillery, reached the walls at sunrise. Here they halted till a breach was made in the walls. The park swarmed with deer--black buck and spotted. There were no signs of the enemy, and a staff-officer of the artillery galloped to the front to reconnoitre. This was none other than the present Lord Roberts, known to the men then as “Plucky Wee Bobs.” About half of the regiment had passed through the breach, when a masked battery of six guns opened fire on them from behind the palace. The first shot passed through the column, the second cut in two a trooper’s horse close to Roberts, who dismounted and helped the trooper to his feet. They all cheered the young Lieutenant for his coolness under a point-blank fire of 9-pounders. They kept on pegging away until the sepoys bolted down the hill for shelter in the Martinière. About two o’clock they drove the rebels out, occupied the Martinière and erected a semaphore on the roof to communicate with the Residency. They next fought their way to a village on the east side of the Secundrabâgh. Here they saw a naked wretch with shaven head and body painted and smeared with ashes. He was sitting on a leopard-skin, counting a rosary of beads. James Wilson said: “I’d like to try my bayonet on that fellow’s hide;” but Captain Mayne replied: “Oh, don’t touch him. These fellows are harmless Hindoo _jogees_” (mendicants). The words had scarcely been uttered when the painted scoundrel stopped counting his beads, slipped his hand under his leopard-skin, brought out a short brass blunderbuss, and fired it into Captain Mayne’s chest, a few feet off. The fellow was instantly bayoneted, but poor Mayne died. From the Secundrabâgh came a murderous fire, and they had to wait for the guns to make a breach. “Lie down, 93rd, lie down!” shouted Sir Colin. “Every man of you is worth his weight in gold to England to-day.” When the breach was large enough the 4th Punjabis led the assault, but seeing their officers shot down, they wavered. Sir Colin turned to Colonel Ewart and said: “Bring on the tartan. Let my own lads at them.” Before the buglers had time to sound the advance the whole seven companies, like one man, leaped the wall with such a yell of pent-up rage as never was heard before nor since. The bayonet did the work effectually. Many of the Highlanders were wounded in the leg because the native tulwârs were as sharp as razors, and when the rebels had fired their muskets they hurled them like javelins, bayonets first, and then drawing their tulwârs, slashed in blind fury, shouting, “Deen! Deen!” (“The faith!”), and some threw themselves down and slashed at the legs of the Highlanders.