In a very few minutes the fort and its surroundings presented a scene of intense activity. In the cleared space men were collecting the stones and sand-bags dashed from the parapets, and sending them up again by means of ropes, while beyond them were several scouts, lying flat on the ground, and trying hard to pierce with their eyes the darkness and the pouring rain in the direction of the enemy. At the back of the fort Runcorn, with a number of volunteers and a large fatigue party, was levering away huge masses of mud-brick, and digging through heaps of broken rubbish, while behind him Colonel Graham was superintending the construction of the work which was to replace the vanished rampart. There was no attempt to build anything at all answering to the curtain which had been destroyed, for weeks of labour would be needed to clear the canal-bed of the rubbish that choked it up; but such stones and bricks as could be found were piled together, and backed by heaps of earth, and then the work ceased perforce for want of material. There was no time to burrow into the muddy chaos for suitable fragments, and the remaining masses of brickwork were too large to be moved with the means at hand. But the pause was only a short one. All the empty boxes in the fort were requisitioned, filled with earth, and built into the wall, but still more were needed. Officers rushed to their quarters, hurled their possessions on the floor, and reappeared with portmanteaus and uniform-cases. Fitz brought the tin boxes that had held the documents of which he was guardian, and the refugees were forced to resign the gaily painted wooden chests some of them had succeeded in bringing in with them. Before very long the excitement penetrated to the Memsahibs’ courtyard, the inmates of which had now returned to their rooms. “Georgie, let us give them our boxes!” cried Mabel. “Yes, anything!” returned Georgia, sitting up with flushed cheeks. “Turn all the things out, Mab. Oh, I wish I could come and help!” “Give them that plate-box, Anand Masih,” said Mrs Hardy to the faithful bearer, who was sitting stolidly upon the piece of property in question, which was his own particular charge. He obeyed with a heart-rending sigh, tying up the silver carefully in a blanket before he surrendered the box. “Georgie, they want more!” cried Mabel, flying back into the court. “They are filling greatcoats with earth and tying them up by the sleeves. What can we give them?--pillow-cases?--mattresses?” “_Skirts_,” said Georgia, with the ardour of a sudden discovery. “They would make beautiful sacks if they were sewn up at the hem.” “Oh, my poor tailor-mades!” groaned Mabel; “but for my country’s sake--” and she dashed into her own room, and reappeared with two or three tweed skirts and a supply of needles and thread.