The fight over, men fell down on the spot where they stood, and went to sleep, too tired and jaded even to think of the evening meal.
A few hours afterwards, Nana Sahib, anxious and restless, was pacing his hall; he was waiting for news of “the battle of the bridge.” Though Havelock had succeeded in reaching that point, he could not conceive it possible that he could cross. He had ordered Bala to blow up the bridge, and to make a firm stand. He was waiting now to hear that this had been accomplished, when Bala Rao staggered in. He was covered with blood, which had flowed from a terrible wound in the shoulder.
“They have crossed the bridge, and we are defeated,” he gasped, as he fell fainting into a chair.
Nana Sahib literally foamed with rage when he heard these ominous words. The dream was being realised, and the mighty fingers of the White Hand were closing upon him.
“Ten thousand curses upon them!” he muttered. “But I yet hold a card, and will play it.”
He rang a bell violently; a servant appeared.
“Send Tantia Topee and Azimoolah here.”
In a few minutes these two persons stood in his presence.
“I want the Beebee-Ghur cleared of every woman and child. And stay—there is a well close by—it has long been useless—let it be filled up with rubbish. Do not mistake my orders. Every woman and every child must leave.”
“I understand, your Highness,” answered Azimoolah, with a hideous smile. “Your tenants are not profitable, and you have use for the house. The women and children shall all be sent home.”