and the Sepoys: the former, indeed, went as usual to the lines, but they prudently abstained from giving direct orders, as insubordination was clearly abroad. Mayne had got an idea into his head that an old dismantled fort on the river Cane could be made sufficiently defensible for a refuge in case of an outbreak. And he had been making some preparations for supplying it with guns and having tent equipage taken down there. The idea of retaining his station did him honour, but this particular scheme was scarcely a practicable one.

Be that as it may, in the course of his arrangements he thought that two old guns, which were located at his jail, had better be removed to the fort, both to be out of the way of the Sepoys and also to be safe in his own possession. But when he sent carts and men to the Darogha for the removal of the guns, this ominous answer was returned: "The Subahdar Sahib says 'No.'" There was no mistaking that, at any rate. The Subahdar had come to visit the guard, had observed the carts, had asked their object, and knowing it, had said "Hookum nahin." This news came early in the morning, I think, and naturally agitated Mayne very much; who felt that there was scarcely room in so small a place for two Kings of Brentford. So he went to the Nuwab, and asked if he would assist in compelling the Sepoys to give up the guns. The Nuwab replied that he certainly would, and the morning was spent in arranging plans. The Sepoys had altogether broken with their officers, and these latter had come over to the Palace. We had dinner between three and four, and Captain Shepherd was got up in uniform, and highly important; but it was observed with some dismay that he was taking a very great quantity of sherry. The

evening came slowly on. The Nuwab had perhaps some twenty-five sowars, got up in the theatrical tag-rag style of Palace troops, and some fifty Sepoys. Arrangements had been made about our different duties. Mayne and his compeer Webster, a fine, well-mounted man, quite in his element in an emergency, and one or two others were to accompany the party, and, Captain Shepherd having fallen asleep, Bennett, one of the officers, was to command the Sepoys. Others were to look after those left in the Palace. The Cavalry was to be under the Nuwab himself. He got himself up in a red chupkun, wore a sword on each side, and was greatly amused at his position. "This is strange ! Fancy me in battle! Of course I have often knocked over things in the jungle, for sport, but I never killed a cat in anger, and now imagine !-killing a man!" I believe he was quite sincere, and had no idea of what was going to happen.

The muskets were piled in the courtyard, and everything was prepared for the expedition. The plan was to march to the jail and bring away the guns. If the Sepoys offered no resistance, well and good; if they did, an attempt was to be made to take the guns by force. The Nuwab got on his horse, and put himself at the head of the sowars, who were Mayne said: "We are

all drawn up in a line by the gate. all ready now ; and Bennett, who was a very tall man, stepped forward and gave the order: "Unpile arms." Not a man stirred! Bennett turned to the Sepoy next him, and saying: "Do you hear the command?" pushed him forward. An old Jemadar of the guard immediately drew his sword. “What!" he cried, "is a Sepoy to be struck like a coolie?" Then complete confusion reigned for a few minutes.

The

men all rushed to their arms, amidst loud cries of "Deen! Deen!" (the Faith !) and ran tumultuously out of the gateway. The sowars hesitated for a moment; but one of them setting the example of decamping, they all galloped out of the enclosure, leaving the Nuwab on horseback-by himself! He dismounted and came up to Mayne. There was no appearance of duplicity about him; he spoke quite collectedly and to good purpose. "This is no place for you any longer," he said. "When my own servants disobey me I am powerless. I recommend you to go to Nagode. Stay here, if you like, to-night. The Palace is at your disposal; but I say again, I cannot trust my people any longer." I think it due to the memory of the Nuwab, who afterwards pleaded the excuse, to declare that my impression is that Mayne did say: "If I do go, I delegate my authority to you, and you must hold Banda for the British Government."

Attendants were clamorous for the Nuwab to go within the private apartments. They closed around him and carried him off. Other influential natives came up and strongly urged Mayne to go before the guards returned. The decision was taken. There was some little hurry and scuffle. A phaeton, a dog-cart, and a buggy were got ready. Someone touched my arm, saying: "Here is your horse.” I mounted my grey. Guided by instinct, but under no special orders, we formed a cavalcade. Joseph was promised a lift, together with some office hands, in a miscellaneous conveyance. The ladies came out and got into the phaeton. Mayne had some sowars with him; but my three Futtehpore men did not show themselves. The sun had gone down just as we passed out of the gateway.

III

NOMAD LIFE

OUR departure from Banda came very suddenly at last, but Mayne, though his mind dwelt on his proposed refuge on the river Cane, could not but be aware that chance would likely enough decide our movements, and had felt anxious about Kirwee. For at this outpost Mr. H. E. Cockerell was endeavouring to keep authority. Mayne had written urgently to him to beg him to come into the station, and we had been expecting him all day. The necessity for our abrupt abandonment of the Palace was that it was obvious the Nuwab had for the time lost all authority. Had his men returned with the Sepoys there is no saying what might not have happened. One or two clerks and others in connection with Mayne's office kept their eyes on his movements, and were quite ready to start with us; but those employed by the Nuwab had confidence in him, and preferred to remain.

We got clear of the town without opposition, and, indeed, without notice, and were passing under some trees in the now fading light, when a crash was heard ahead, and, riding up, I found that the Judge, who was driving a one-horse phaeton, had missed the road, and upset the vehicle into a ditch. There were two ladies in it, and one of them, Mrs. Webster, was obviously hurt, though she made very light

of it at the time. The carriage was wrecked, and had to be left, and its occupants distributed in the available traps.

Some sowars who had accompanied Mayne-indeed, two were mounted on his horses-took advantage of the imbroglio and galloped off. But two others who were in front, and could not well pass us, shared our fortunes. This is merely mentioned as one instance of many, in which natives seemed to act in the matter of fidelity on the mere impulse of the moment. As we got into the open, the sky behind us began to redden, and then, from the spreading glow, shafts of fire shot up into the air, and the illumination extended to the zenith. The Sepoys had made a bonfire of all the bungalows and public offices. The effect was most striking as we slowly pursued our way along the road, rendered doubtful and gloomy by the sky at our back. Far into the night the fire blazed and quivered above its own smoke, and it was almost morning before the last lurid streaks died out of the horizon. The word was passed down about midnight to be cautious, as a turbulent village had to be passed. But sleep had calmed all passions, and as we moved through the irregular street, there were only the watchmen with their bamboo staves, curious to know who we were, but too excited and frightened to ask. As the first light of the day broke, we reached another small place, where there was a pond, and here we halted for a few minutes, and rode into the water to cool the dusty legs of the horses. Uncertain as the future was, it was an immense relief to be free-to be out in the open air—and no longer subject to apprehensions and anxiety. Scenes in "Gil Blas" and other picturesque fictions occurred to the mind, where the hero had been in a terrible fix-lodged in