nd was
given to Major Tombs. Their destination was kept secret. Orders were
given and countermanded, to confound the enemy's spies. Major Reid
descended from Hindoo Rao's hill with the Rifles and Goorkhas, while
Tombs advanced towards the enemy's left, and our batteries poured their
fire on the Lahore gate, whose guns might have reached our squadrons.
At first their cavalry, seeing the fewness of our sowars, prepared to
charge them, but recoiled at sight of our troops coming up behind.
Their infantry, taken by surprise, fled without offering the least
resistance--many leaving their arms and clothes behind them. Some threw
themselves into a mosque. The walls of its courtyard were loopholed,
and they began to fire at our men. Tombs had two horses killed under
him. His bold bearing and loud voice made him the aim of the enemy. He
ordered the riflemen to go up and fire into the loopholes till the doors
could be forced. A train of gunpowder was got ready, a bag was attached
to the gates, they were blown open, and 39 sepoys were killed in the
mosque. A 9-pounder gun was taken. Major Reid, on his side, was also
successful. He destroyed a battery and magazine, and set a village and
serai on fire. The whole British loss was 3 killed and 15 wounded--
Captain Brown, of the Fusiliers, dangerously.

Sir Henry Barnard showed his admiration of the gallantry and conduct of
Tombs in the most enthusiastic manner. Visiting the mess-tent of the
Umballa artillery, he gave the highest and most enthusiastic praise to
the young officer, declaring that he had never seen greater coolness and
courage, and a more perfect knowledge of his profession, than had been
shown by Major Tombs.

Tombs, on first entering the Company's army, had served with great
distinction in the wars of the Punjaub, and his talents had been marked
by the keen and wise eye of Sir Charles Napier. He had been made
brevet-major when only a lieutenant of artillery. His gallantry at
Ghazeoodeenugger had made him conspicuous from the beginning of the
siege of Delhi.

In one of the first skirmishes--and it was a very severe one--which took
place under Hindoo Rao's hill, Lieutenant Quintin Battye was mortally
wounded through the stomach, the ball coming out at his back. He was a
joyous, boyish, but noble fellow, whose every thought was honour. He
was carried into camp, and was well aware that his last hour was
approaching. A comrade went to see him. He smiled