On June 10 the Sepoys delivered another attack, in great strength, on Hindu Rao’s house, which they looked upon as the key of the British position, and which was held on this day by the Ghoorkas under Reid. The Sepoys hoped that the Ghoorkas would join them, and, as they came on, instead of firing, they waved their hands, and shouted, “Don’t fire. We are not firing. We want to speak to you. Come and join us.” “Oh yes! we are coming,” answered the sturdy little Ghoorkas, with fierce, jesting humour, and, running forward to within thirty yards of the Sepoys, they poured a quick and deadly fire upon them, driving them back with great slaughter. From that stage of the siege, Hindu Rao’s house, perhaps the most fiercely attacked point in the British front, was held by Reid and his Ghoorkas, and a better officer or better men were not to be found on the Ridge. The more eager spirits among the British were burning to leap on the city, and, on June 12, a plan of attack was actually prepared by the engineer officers and Hodson, and approved by Barnard. The whole force was to be divided into three columns; one was to break its way through the Cashmere Gate, a second through the Lahore Gate, a third was to fling itself on the walls, and attempt an escalade—practically, the same plan by which the city was finally carried. It was a project, considering the force available for its execution, almost insane in its daring; and Barnard, though he consented to it, took no decided and methodical steps to carry it out. It would almost seem, indeed, as if physical strain, want of sleep, and the terrible responsibility he was carrying, had affected Barnard’s head. The situation might well have taxed—and over-taxed—the brain of a greater general than Barnard. The light guns of the British, firing at a distance of a thousand yards, could make no impression on the walls. Their strength was dwindling daily; that of the enemy was growing fast. And it was natural that the British temper, under such conditions, should become explosive, and that the more daring spirits were eager, in the face of any risks, to come to the sword’s point with their enemies. The General’s nerve was curiously shaken. Hope Grant tells how Sir Henry Barnard sent for him on the evening of the 12th: “He hushed me into a whisper, and asked me if I thought any person could possibly overhear us, adding, ‘There is treason around us.’ Then he explained, ‘I mean to attack the town to-night.’” Barnard’s manner produced on Hope Grant’s mind the impression that his brain was slightly off its balance.