us. Shot and shell
dropped among the ranks thick and fast, inflicting heavy loss, and the
remnant was obliged to fall back for the time. A second charge was
made, but this too failed, leaving many another poor fellow stretched
lifeless on the ground.

It was now generally realised that the task of forcing a passage
through the lane was hopeless, or at least inadvisable, for the
present. Nicholson, however, would not concede this. Every inch of
ground gained in Delhi that day was worth untold gold, and he
determined that no effort should be spared to win the Lahore Gate.
Placing himself at the head of his men, he called on them for another
charge, for one last brave attempt.

If there was one man whom the Fusiliers would have followed to death,
it was Nicholson. At his summons they ran on again, some of them
actually reeling from the terrific strain they had undergone.
Springing out into the mouth of the lane, Nicholson waved his sword
above his head and went forward. The soldiers advanced some paces,
wavered, re-formed, and wavered again as the sepoys' guns belched forth
flame and death. Then, as they paused hesitating, the fateful moment
came. Some yards ahead of the soldiers stood Nicholson, facing his men
as he called to them angrily to "come on." Suddenly a sepoy leaned out
of the window of a house close by and pointed his musket at the tall,
commanding figure beneath him. There was a flash, and on the instant
Nicholson fell with a bullet in his back.

[Illustration: "A sepoy leaned out . . . and pointed his musket at the
tall figure beneath him."]

Even then, lying mortally wounded, the dying lion refused to allow
himself to be borne to the rear. "Carry the lane first," he ordered;
but Colonel Graydon, who went to his assistance, persuaded him to let a
bearer party lift him to one side. Thence, a little later, he was
taken to a hospital tent to have his wound attended to. It was at this
juncture that a young staff-officer, who is now Lord Roberts, found
Nicholson in a dhoolie by the roadside just within the Cashmere Gate.
The stricken hero had been deserted by the native bearers and left to
his fate!

Through Roberts' efforts a fresh party of bearers was obtained, and
Nicholson was carried tenderly to the nearest field hospital. He was
seen to be in great pain, besides being much exhausted from loss of
blood, but hopes were entertained that his wound would not prove
mortal. By the irony of fat