Bourquien took his command, and against him we now moved.

The morning of the 11th of September found us upon the plains of Delhi.
It was a burning hot day, and we were all refreshing ourselves after the morning's march, when I, who was on the advanced piquet along with O'Gawler of the King's Dragoons, was made aware of the enemy's neighborhood in a very singular manner.

O'Gawler and I were seated under a little canopy of horse-cloths, which we had formed to shelter us from the intolerable heat of the sun, and were discussing with great delight a few Manilla cheroots, and a stone jar of the most exquisite, cool, weak, refreshing sangaree.

We had been playing cards the night before, and O'Gawler had lost to me seven hundred rupees.

I emptied the last of the sangaree into the two pint tumblers out of which we were drinking, and holding mine up, said, "Here's better luck to you next time, O'Gawler!" As I spoke the words--whish!--a cannon-ball cut the tumbler clean out of my hand, and plumped into poor O'Gawler's stomach.