The truth is, both men were splendid soldiers, but of a type so different that neither could understand the other. Neill was of the silent, dour type; Havelock was too shrill and vocal for him. Havelock, on the other hand, often felt Neill’s stern silence to be an unsyllabled reproof, and he more than suspected Neill of the desire to overbear him. When Neill joined him at Cawnpore, Havelock’s first words to him were, “Now, General Neill, let us understand each other. You have no power or authority here whilst I am here, and you are not to issue a single order here.” There were the elements of a very pretty quarrel betwixt the two soldiers who were upholding the flag of England at the heart of the Mutiny; and yet, so essentially noble were both men, and so fine was their common standard of soldierly duty, that they laid aside their personal quarrel absolutely, and stood by each other with flawless loyalty till, under the fatal archway at the Kaisarbagh, Neill fell, shot through the head. Havelock telegraphed to Calcutta that he could not resume his march to Lucknow till he had been reinforced by 1000 infantry and Olpherts’ battery complete. Yet on August 4, when he had been reinforced by merely a single company and two guns, he started afresh for Lucknow, won another costly victory at Bussarat Gunj, and then fell back once more on Cawnpore, with cholera raging amongst his men. Almost every fourth British soldier under his command was disabled either by sickness or wounds. Havelock had simply to wait till reinforcements came up; but he relieved his feelings while he waited by marching out and destroying Bithoor, Nana Sahib’s palace. The days crept past leaden-footed; reinforcements trickled in, so to speak, drop by drop. Not till September 16 was Havelock ready for the final march to Lucknow. And then Outram arrived to supersede him! It was, in a sense, a cruel stroke to Havelock. But he and Outram were tried comrades, knitted to each other by a friendship woven of the memories and companionship of many years, and Outram was himself one of the most chivalrous and self-effacing men that ever lived. The story of how he refused to take the command out of Havelock’s hands, confined himself to his civil office as commissioner, and put himself, as a mere volunteer, under Havelock’s orders, is an oft-told and most noble tale.