rtions of an entire
army and a whole nation in arms--an army trained by ourselves, and
supplied with all but exhaustless munitions of war, laid up by ourselves
for the maintenance of the Empire. I venture to aver that no other
nation in the world would have remained here, or have avoided defeat had
they attempted to do so."

The story of the rise and fall of the Indian Mutiny is the story of the
life of Roberts--in so far as the rise is concerned. His was an
inconspicuous but well played part. Acting as staff officer and
lieutenant of a gunners' company by turns, he was always in the thick of
it. If it were the command of guns at a difficult salient before Delhi,
it was "Send Roberts." If it were an urgent message for more ammunition,
at Agra, "Send Roberts." If it were an escort for the rescued women and
children at the historic relief of Lucknow, "Send Roberts."

This slender, undersized officer, in spite of his physique, seemed
indefatigable. He had several narrow escapes from death, in hand-to-hand
encounters with sepoys. Once, a mutineer fired point-blank at him at
twelve yards away, but for some providential reason Roberts' horse reared
just at the moment of firing and received the bullet in his own head.

At another time, a fanatic danced out in front of his horse waving a
turban to frighten it, and at the same time whirling a wicked looking
scimitar around his head. Roberts drew his pistol but the weapon missed
fire. The fanatic sprang forward, and it is probable that the career of
a future Field Marshal would have ended then and there, had not a lancer
spurred his horse in between and run the fellow down.

On still another occasion, his presence of mind saved the flag from
capture and brought him the first of his many honors, the Victoria Cross.
An assault had been made on the village of Khudaganj, and the pursuit was
being followed up in brave style, when some of the rebels suddenly faced
around and took steady aim at those who were charging them. Roberts was
of the party and had gone to the rescue of a man who was on the verge of
being run through by a bayonet, when he saw two sepoys running off with
the Union Jack. He spurred his horse in pursuit, and, leaning over,
wrenched the standard out of the hands of one of the men, at the same
time sabering him. The other sepoy took advantage of the opportunity to
take steady aim at Roberts, point-blank, but the weapon missed fire.
Roberts returned wi