Hodson and Macdowell quickly overtook the cart carrying the princes, but a crowd had gathered round the vehicle, and pressed on the very horses of the troopers. “What shall we do with them?” said Hodson to his lieutenant. Then, answering his own question, he added, “I think we had better shoot them here. We shall never get them in!” And Hodson proceeded to do that daring, cruel, much-abused, much-praised deed. He halted his troop, put five troopers across the road, in front and behind the cart, ordered the princes to strip; then, taking a carbine from one of his troopers, he shot them with his own hand, first, in a loud voice, explaining to his troopers and the crowd who they were, and what crimes they had done. The shuddering crowd gazed at this tall, stern, inflexible sahib, with his flowing beard, white face, and deep over-mastering voice, shooting one by one their princes; but no hand was lifted in protest. Hodson showed no hurry. He made the doomed princes strip, that the act might seem an execution, not a murder. He shot them with his own hand, for, had he ordered a trooper to have done it, and the man had hesitated, a moment’s pause might have kindled the huge swaying breathless crowd to flame. Critics in an overwhelming majority condemn Hodson’s act. Roberts, whose judgment is mildest, says his feeling is “one of sorrow that such a brilliant soldier should have laid himself open to so much adverse criticism.” Hodson himself wrote on the evening of the same day, “I made up my mind at the time to be abused. I was convinced I was right, and when I prepared to run the great physical risk of the attempt I was equally game for the moral risk of praise or blame. These have not been, and are not, times when a man who would serve his country dare hesitate as to the personal consequences to himself of what he thinks his duty.” Perhaps, however, Hodson was scarcely a cool judge as to what “duty” might be in such a case. The outrages which accompanied the Mutiny had kindled his fierce nature into a flame. “If ever I get into Delhi,” he had said, weeks before, “the house of Timour won’t be worth five minutes’ purchase!” Hodson’s “five minutes” proved inadequate; but, writing afterwards, on the very day he shot the princes, he recorded, “In twenty-four hours I disposed of the principal members of the house of Timour the Tartar. I am not cruel, but I confess I did rejoice in the opportunity of ridding the earth of these ruffians.” Macdowell writes the epitaph of the princes: “So ended the career of the chiefs of the revolt and of the greatest villains that ever shamed humanity.”