Other men had daily died around me, friends and comrades had been killed beside me, but I never felt as I felt then--to lose Nicholson seemed to me at that moment to lose everything.
I searched about for the doolie-bearers, who, with other camp-followers, were busy ransacking the houses and shops in the neighbourhood, and carrying off everything of the slightest value they could lay their hands on.

Having with difficulty collected four men, I put them in charge of a sergeant of the 61st Foot.

Taking down his name, I told him who the wounded officer was, and ordered him to go direct to the field hospital.
That was the last I saw of Nicholson.

I found time to ride several times to the hospital to inquire after him, but I was never allowed to see him again.
Continuing my ride, I soon came up with Hope Grant's brigade.

It had shortly before been relieved from its perilous and unpleasant position as a target for the enemy by the timely arrival of the Guides Infantry and a detachment of the Baluch battalion.