Inch by inch, almost, that handful of men fought their way, fighting a battle a day, and never yielding a step.
One day a horseman galloped into our camp in a great state of excitement.

As he flung himself from his horse he shouted something, but we only caught the two words, "Havelock," "Lucknow." It was enough.
Lucknow was saved! There rose cheer upon cheer at the news, and shout upon shout.

Men and officers alike waved their hats and shook hands, Paddy, as usual, let his feelings get the better of him, and nearly broke Larry's spine with the joyful thump he gave it; indeed, it is safe to say our men were almost as proud as if they had themselves achieved the relief.
Presently, however, there spread a rumour that though Lucknow was saved, it was not yet relieved.
Havelock had fought his way in, but until help arrived, he, too, would be a prisoner within its walls; and almost in the same breath came the grand news; our column was the one destined for this glorious work! How our hearts beat! What mattered it now how long the marches were, and how grilling the sun?
"Lucknow" was the cry; and that magic word sustained us in every hardship and peril.
We reached Cawnpore at last, and there joined Sir Colin Campbell's force.

The sight of this house of murder was simply maddening to the men.

They left the place next morning with a sort of shudder, and set their faces towards Lucknow.