him once more on
the move, his face set eagerly towards the old Mogul capital, where he
was to place the crown upon his achievements and find a soldier's grave.

[1] _Forty-One Years in India_.

[2] "A Ballad of John Nicholson" (_The Island Race_).

CHAPTER IX.

BEFORE DELHI.

In the long march to Delhi Nicholson's temper must have been tried time
and time again. He was all impatience to get to his goal and urge on
the assault, the delay of which every day added to the peril that
threatened British India. The tardy progress made, owing to the heavy
guns he carried in his train, caused him to chafe as he had done on
that rebel-pursuing march from Goodaspore some weeks earlier, when his
tireless energy could not brook even a brief halt for rest.

Captain Trotter, in his _Life of Nicholson_, gives us a vivid picture
of the officers and men of the column snatching an hour's repose in the
shade of some trees while their leader remained "in the middle of the
hot, dusty road, sitting bolt upright on his horse in the full glare of
that July sun, waiting, like a sentinel turned to stone, for the moment
when his men should resume their march."

Early in August the Movable Column had crossed the Sutlej, and four
days later Nicholson was galloping on ahead to General Wilson's
headquarters on the Ridge. Wilson, to his relief, had sent an urgent
message summoning him to a council. It was the 7th of the month when
Nicholson rode into the British camp. Before nightfall on that day
everyone was aware that a new power had arrived and was on tiptoe with
excitement to know what the new-comer intended doing.

With the thoroughness that characterised his methods, Nicholson
promptly made a round of the pickets; his tall, striking figure
exciting comment from those who had not seen him before. "His attire,"
says an officer who was on the Ridge at the time, "gave no clue to his
rank; it evidently never cost its owner a thought." But one had only
to look at the dark, handsome, sombre face to see that here was a man
of no little distinction. Grave of demeanour as he always was, his
features were saddened still more now by the news of Sir Henry
Lawrence's death at Lucknow. The loss of his old chief and patron
touched him very nearly, and it was with a heavy heart that he went
about his duties.

Riding back a day or two later to rejoin his troops, Nicholson found
that the column had been strengthened by several additi