call in
the out-pickets of the 150th, and direct that regiment to join your
brigade, holding the centre of our line. You hear me, Colonel Hughes,"
said the veteran, as he turned to the officers he addressed, those named
rising and each receiving his written instructions.

"Officers commanding Infantry Brigades, you will parade your regiments
in contiguous columns in rear, and under cover of the cavalry barracks
half an hour before sunrise, according to seniority. And now,
gentlemen, good night, for I have much to do," continued Sir Colin.
"The enemy muster twenty-five thousand men, with all the guns of the
Gwalior Contingent. We can count only about four thousand and
thirty-two guns."

"And quite enough, too," exclaimed the gallant Peel, replying to his
chief, utterly against all military etiquette. "We'll have more before
we pipe to supper to-morrow night. I say, Hughes, you can answer for
how my fellows do their work? Eh!"

There was a general laugh, a few hearty shakes of the hand, as the
officers of the force crowded round their beloved leader, and the
council of war broke up.

"Let General Wyndham have this order, Ogilvie," were the last words
Hughes heard, as he took his way into the night. "It will tell him to
open the heaviest fire he can from his entrenched camp before sunrise."

Some one touched him on the shoulder. It was General Greathead.

"Are you well enough to take command of your regiment?" asked the
General, pointing to the left arm, which was in a sling.

"I would not relinquish the honour for any reward the world could give
me," was the reply.

"Very well, Colonel Hughes, then good night. We shall meet at sunrise,
and a memorable day it will be. Good night!" and shaking hands
heartily, as men do under such circumstances, the two separated, taking
their way to their respective commands, challenged at every few paces by
the watchful sentries, the boom of an occasional gun from the town
breaking the stillness of the night.

Morning dawned bright and beautiful, with that freshness in the air so
well known to all who have inhabited hot countries. The guns in the
town and entrenchments were for once silent, as the domes and minarets
of Cawnpore flashed back the first rays of the rising sun. The river
rolled its sacred waters lazily along, and the trees in the compounds,
and on its banks, hardly moved in the breeze. The Ganges canal alone
separated the out-pickets of the two forces,