“By this time my eyes had become accustomed to the darkness of the mosque, and I took in my position at a glance. Here I was up to my knees almost in powder—in the very bowels of a magazine—with a naked light!
“My hair literally stood on end. I felt the skin of my head lifting my feather bonnet off my scalp. My knees knocked together, and, despite the chilly night air, the cold perspiration burst out all over me and ran down my face and legs.
“I had neither cloth nor handkerchief in my pocket, and there was not a moment to be lost, as already the overhanging wick was threatening to shed its smouldering red tip into the live magazine at my feet.
“Quick as thought I put my left hand under the down-dropping flame and clasped it firmly. Holding it so, I slowly turned to the door and walked out with my knees knocking one against the other. I never felt the least pain from the wick, fear had so overcome me; but when I opened my hand on gaining the open air, I felt the smart acutely enough. I poured the oil out of the saucer into the burnt hand, then kneeling down, I thanked God for having saved me and all our men around from horrible destruction. I then got up and staggered rather than walked to the place where Captain Dawson was sleeping. I shook him by the shoulder till he awoke, and told him of my discovery and fright.
“‘Bah, Corporal Mitchell!’ was all his answer. ‘You have woke up out of your sleep and have got frightened at a shadow’—for he saw me all trembling.
“I turned my smarting hand to the light of the fire and showed the Captain how it was scorched; and then, feeling my pride hurt, I said: ‘Sir, you’re not a Highlander, or you would know the Gaelic proverb, “The heart of one who can look death in the face will not start at a shadow,” and you, sir, can bear witness that I have not shirked to look death in the face more than once since morning.’
“He replied: ‘Pardon me. I did not mean that. But calm yourself and explain.’
“I then told him that I had gone into the mosque with a naked lamp, and had found it half full of loose gunpowder.
“‘Are you sure you’re not dreaming from the excitement of this awful day?’ he asked.
“With that I looked down to my feet and my gaiters, which were still covered with blood from the slaughter in the Secundrabâgh. The wet grass had softened it again, and on this the powder was sticking nearly an inch thick. I scraped some of it off, throwing it into the fire, and said: