ammunition, then pushing on to Bithoor, carried Nana Sahib's palace, and
captured all his treasure. It was one of the closing scenes of the
Indian mutiny.

"Steady, men, steady," said Colonel Hughes, as leaning heavily on his
sword, he stood in the centre of his regiment formed up in square, just
where the Calpee and Cawnpore roads join.

"There comes the General and his staff--150th, attention!"

The rattle of the muskets as the men came to attention was heard. "Fix
bayonets--shoulder arms," were the words of command which followed as a
mounted aide, at the gallop, left the group who were advancing across
the plain, their plumes dancing in the breeze, and the sun glinting from
their accoutrements.

"Order arms, and keep the men at attention only," were the directions
given and obeyed. "Have you the muster roll of your losses?" asked the
aide.

"A heavy casualty list, Colonel Hughes," said Sir Colin, as, with the
paper in his hand, he rode into the centre of the square. "Three
officers, and one hundred and four rank and file. 150th Regiment, I am
proud of you!" said the stern old soldier, raising his plumed hat as he
spoke. "Twice have you done good service to the whole force under my
command. At the race stand, your determined gallantry saved our
communications being cut off; to your splendid charge, we owe our first
success yesterday. Men of the 150th, I repeat I am proud to have had
you under my command. This I give as a token of the admiration of the
whole force under my orders, and you it is who have won it for your
commanding officer. As he spoke, the old soldier stooped, and himself
attached the Victoria Cross, the first ever won in India, to Colonel
Hughes's breast. For you, my men, the glorious word `Cawnpore' shall in
future be borne on your regimental colours."

"Colonel Hughes, dismiss your regiment."

Three hearty cheers for Sir Colin were given, as the regiment broke its
ranks, and the general and his staff rode away, winding in and out,
among the fatigue parties, busy burying the dead.

The Gwalior Contingent melted away. British supremacy again reigned in
India, and regiment after regiment was poured into the country, now
rapidly being pacified.

Three months had hardly elapsed, when the 150th Regiment was marching
for Calcutta, under orders for embarkation for England.

The sun was shining brightly on the ocean, and the houses of Cape Town.
Isabel sat at her window looking acros