of the 3rd Brigade almost caught up the rear
guard of the 4th and, by four in the afternoon, its baggage was
coming along nicely, so that all would be in before nightfall. The
rear guard of the brigade, consisting of the Gordons, Ghoorkhas,
and 2nd Punjab Infantry, had been harassed as soon as they started
and, as the day wore on, the enemy increased greatly in numbers. As
the flanking parties fell back to join the rear guard, they were so
pressed that it was as much as they could do to keep them at bay.

When about three miles from camp, the baggage took a wrong road. In
trying a piece of level ground, they became helplessly mixed up in
swampy rice fields. The enemy, seeing the opportunity they had
waited for, outflanked the rear guard, and began pouring a heavy
fire into the baggage. The flanking parties were weak, for the
strain had been so severe that many men from the hospital escort
and baggage guard had been withdrawn, to dislodge the enemy from
the surrounding spurs.

The Pathans were almost among the baggage, when a panic seized the
followers. As night began to fall, the officer commanding the
Gordons, with two weak companies of his regiment, two companies of
the Ghoorkhas, and a company of the 2nd Punjab Infantry and some
Ghoorkhas, found himself in a most serious position. The guns had
limbered up and pushed on, and the rear guard remained, surrounded
by the enemy, hampered with its wounded, and stranded with doolies.
As the native bearers had fled these doolies were, in many cases,
being carried by the native officers.

The enemy grew more and more daring, and a few yards, only, divided
the combatants. Captain Uniacke, retiring with a few of the
Gordons, saw that there was only one course left: they must
entrench for the night. He was in advance of the actual rear guard,
attempting to hold a house against the fire of quite a hundred
tribesmen.

Collecting four men of his regiment, and shouting wildly, he rushed
at the doorway. In the dusk the enemy were uncertain of the number
of their assailants and, in their horror of the bayonet, they fired
one wild volley and fled. To continue the ruse, Captain Uniacke
climbed to the roof, shouting words of command, as if he had a
company behind him. Then he blew his whistle, to attract the rear
guard as it passed, in the dark.

The whistle was heard and, in little groups, they fell back with
the wounded to the house. It was a poor place, but capable of
defence;