h would be sheer
madness. That the man can in some way impress my mind at a distance
is evident from that summons he gave me to meet him at the ruins of my
bungalow, but I do not feel the same clear distinct perception of
his wishes now as I did then. Perhaps he himself is not aware of the
particulars of the danger that threatens, or, knowing them, he can see
no way of escape out of them. It may be that at night, when everything
is quiet, one's mind is more open to such impressions than it is when we
are surrounded by other people and have other things to think of, but I
feel an actual consciousness of danger."

"I don't think there can be any danger until we get down near Cawnpore.
They may possibly be on the lookout for us there, and may even have
boats out on the stream. It is possible that the Sepoys may have sent
down word yesterday afternoon to Nana Sahib that we had surrendered, and
should be starting by boat this morning, but I don't think there can
be any danger till we get there. Should we meet native boats and be
stopped, Por Sing's son will be able to induce them to let us pass.
Certainly none of the villagers about here would be likely to disobey
him. Once beyond Cawnpore, I believe that he would have sufficient
influence, speaking, as he does, in the name, not only of his father,
but of other powerful landowners, to induce any of these Oude people to
let us pass. No, I regard Cawnpore as our one danger, and I believe it
to be a very real one. I have been thinking, indeed, that it would be a
good thing when we get within a couple of miles of the place for all who
are able to walk, to land on the opposite bank, and make their way along
past Cawnpore, and take to the boats again a mile below the town."

"That would be an excellent plan, Doctor; but if the boats were stopped
and they found the sick, they would kill them to a certainty. I don't
think we could leave them. I am quite sure Miss Hannay would not leave
her uncle."

"I think we might get over even that, Bathurst. There are only the Major
and the other two men, and Mrs. Forsyth and three children, too ill to
walk. There are eight of the native servants, ourselves, and the young
Rajah's retainers. We ought to have no difficulty in carrying the
wounded. As to the luggage, that must be sacrificed, so that the boatmen
can go down with empty benches. It must be pitched overboard. The loss
would be of no real consequence; everyone could manage with what t