While this artillery duel was going on I had a good opportunity of observing the effect of what is popularly known as "blue funk" on a young recruit. He was in the rear rank; and while the excitement of galloping to the front lasted, had kept his place among his comrades; but to sit still within a hundred yards of guns belching out smoke and noise and round shot was more than his nerves were equal to; and he began--half unconsciously, I daresay--to pull on his horse's head and gradually back him out of the ranks. This would never do! Example is catching, so I galloped round behind him and used language calculated to bring him to his senses, but without effect. With his mouth half-open and his eyes starting out of his head he continued to stare at the terrifying guns, greeting each explosion with a horrified little groan; and all the time he kept backing his horse on to me. I was obliged to put an end to this. In another moment he would have bolted and disgraced us all--possibly infected some of his comrades with his own panic. For the last time I shouted that I would run my sword into him if he did not "dress up." He took no heed; and I lunged at him with all my force. His luck saved him. He had a small buffalo-hide buckler hanging from his left shoulder; and instinctively he twisted half round and caught the point of my sword in it, and there it stuck. The more I pulled and the worse language I used, the less would it come out; and I am afraid the string of words with which I expressed my disgust must have been far from discreetly chosen, when behind me a voice exclaimed:--"Who commands this party?" Looking round, the unfortunate recruit's panic was nothing to what mine became, when I saw the stern face of the Commander-in-Chief, Sir Colin Campbell. Caught in the act of trying to kill one of my own men, visions of a court-martial--of the loss of my commission--swam before me, as with one despairing effort I wrenched the blade out of the buckler, and, dropping its point to the Chief, stammered out my defence. "I really couldn't help it, Sir? He was showing the white feather. I was afraid he would bolt." To my intense relief the grim features relaxed into a smile. "Never mind," said Sir Colin, "you were quite right. They are trying to carry off some of their guns to the right front. Gallop after them and catch them." It may be imagined I lost no time in carrying out that order and placing as great a distance as possible between me and His Excellency. My young recruit came too, and afterwards behaved very well. He turned out a good soldier after that "baptism of fire." A hard gallop soon brought us up with the flying enemy, who were "pounded" by a big ditch, where they abandoned the guns and took to their heels, but too late to save themselves. Here I had rather a narrow escape from abruptly ending my military experiences. Two "Pandies," whom I was pursuing, suddenly turned round and stood at bay, and almost simultaneously lashed at me with their _tulwars_ as I charged between them. The man on the right brought his sword down on my head, fortunately protected by a thick "puggari," many folds of which it divided, and then glanced down on to my horse's shoulder, inflicting a long and deep wound. At the same moment I delivered a swinging cut on his own cranium which was covered by a small skull cup. That settled him effectually; but I had barely time to throw my sword round and receive on it a sweeping blow from the fellow on my left, which partially overpowered my guard and landed on my ribs, luckily much diminished in force; so that I escaped with a trifling flesh wound. He did not get another chance; for I dropped the point of my blade and ran him through the body. I was well out of that scrimmage, but my unlucky horse was quite disabled; so I had to dismount and entrust him to the care of one of my men, whose animal I borrowed for the rest of the day; and a very poor exchange I found it, both as regards charger and saddle.