the hamlet; but the rebels were well defended, and
fought with the stubborn valour of despair. Lumsden fell, shot through
the heart; many of his men were killed with him; and it was not until
the 61st Foot came up that the last position was won.

This was the only shadow on the brilliance of the victory. Nicholson had
routed a force of trained sepoys, double the number of his own men,
after a long day's march in the worst of conditions. He had captured
twelve of their sixteen guns, and all their stores and baggage. Their
slaughter had been great; the demoralized survivors were in full flight
for Delhi. On the British side, the casualties were less than a hundred
killed and wounded.

The troops bivouacked on the field. Sherdil, lying that night beside
Ahmed on a horse-rug, said--

"What will happen to thee, Ahmed-ji, when the city is taken?"

"What indeed, save that I go back with thee and the Guides to
Hoti-Mardan!"

"But that cannot be the end of things for thee. Thou art of the sahibs:
the secret cannot be kept for ever. The Guides notice something in thee
that is different from the rest, and they ask me about it, and I tell
them thou art the son of a chief; but they are not satisfied. Dost thou
not yearn to be among thy true people?"

"What wouldst thou, Sherdil? I have had such thoughts, but now that I
have seen the sahibs, who am I that I should claim kinship with them? I
cannot speak their speech; I know nothing of their learning. It were
better, maybe, to remain a Guide and in due time become a dafadar like
thee; and then some day go back to Shagpur, and do unto that fat Dilasah
as he deserves. I came thence to win freedom for my father; and he is
now free, and needs not my help. Him I know, and his people; among the
sahibs I am but as an ignorant little child."

"Thou sayest true; yet a stone does not rot in water, and though thou
remain among Pathans a thousand years thou wilt never be other than a
sahib. Well, what must be, will be. Small rain fills a pond:
peradventure when thou hast been a little longer with the sahibs the cup
of thy desire will run over."

CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIFTH

The Storming of Delhi

Nicholson's victory at Najafgarh encouraged the little army on the Ridge
as much as it dismayed the enemy. The former needed encouragement. More
than a thousand Englishmen were in hospital. General Wilson was anxious
and depressed; urged on the one side by Lawrence to strike a blow and