be practicable than there ensued one of the most wonderful scenes witnessed in that war. Suddenly and simultaneously there dashed towards it the men of the wing of the 93d and the Sikhs, running for it at full speed. A Sikh of the 4th Rifles reached it first, but he was shot dead as he jumped through. A young officer of the 93d, Richard Cooper by name, was more fortunate. Flying, so to speak, through the hole, he landed unscathed. He was closely followed by Ewart of the same regiment, by John I. Lumsden, attached to it as interpreter, by three privates of the same regiment, and by eight or nine men, Sikhs and Highlanders. Burroughs of the 93d had also effected an entrance, for he was in the enclosure before Ewart, but he was almost immediately wounded. The enclosure in which these officers and men found themselves was 150 yards square, with towers at the angles, a square building in the centre, and was held by 2000 armed men. It seemed impossible that one of the assailants should escape alive.
But what will not the sons of this little island do when the occasion demands it? It must suffice here to say that they rushed forward and maintained a not unequal contest till reinforcements poured in through the gate. Lumsden was killed. Cooper received a slash across his forehead at the moment that he laid his antagonist dead at his feet. Ewart, attacked by numbers, preserved his splendid presence of mind and slew many. He was still holding his own against enormous odds when the front gate was burst open and reinforcements dashed in. Then the struggle increased in intensity. It was a fight for life or death between the rebels and the masters against whom they had risen. For, it must not be forgotten, the defenders were all sipáhís who had rebelled. Nor did the struggle cease so long as one man of the 2000 remained alive.
