“‘Bah, Corporal Mitchell!’ was all his answer. ‘You have woke up out of your sleep and have got frightened at a shadow’--for he saw me all trembling. “I turned my smarting hand to the light of the fire and showed the Captain how it was scorched; and then, feeling my pride hurt, I said: ‘Sir, you’re not a Highlander, or you would know the Gaelic proverb, “The heart of one who can look death in the face will not start at a shadow,” and you, sir, can bear witness that I have not shirked to look death in the face more than once since morning.’ “He replied: ‘Pardon me. I did not mean that. But calm yourself and explain.’ “I then told him that I had gone into the mosque with a naked lamp, and had found it half full of loose gunpowder. “‘Are you sure you’re not dreaming from the excitement of this awful day?’ he asked. “With that I looked down to my feet and my gaiters, which were still covered with blood from the slaughter in the Secundrabâgh. The wet grass had softened it again, and on this the powder was sticking nearly an inch thick. I scraped some of it off, throwing it into the fire, and said: “‘There is positive proof for you that I’m not dreaming, nor my vision a shadow.’ “On that the Captain became almost as alarmed as I was, and a sentry was posted near the door of the mosque to prevent anyone entering it. “The sleeping men were aroused, and the fire smothered out by jars of water. Then Captain Dawson and I, with an escort of four men, went round the rooms. As Wilson, one of the escort, was peering into a room, a concealed sepoy struck him over the head with his tulwâr; but his bonnet saved him, and Captain Dawson put a pistol bullet through the sepoy to save further trouble. “After all was quiet the men rolled off to sleep again, and I too lay down and tried to sleep. My nerves were, however, too much shaken, and the burnt hand kept me awake, so I lay and listened to the men sleeping round me. And what a night that was! The horrible scenes through which the men had passed during the day had told with terrible effect upon their nerves, and the struggles with death in the Secundrabâgh were fought over again by some of the men in their sleep, oaths and shouts of defiance being often strangely intermingled with prayers. “One man would be lying calmly asleep and then suddenly break out into a fierce battle-cry of ‘Cawnpore! you bloody murderer!’ Another would shout, ‘Charge! give them the bayonet!’ and a third, ‘Keep together, boys; don’t fire yet. Forward! forward! If we are to die, let us die like men!’