It was an awful awakening for Kavanagh. Suppose the spy after all were
playing him false. It seemed an extraordinary mistake to have made.
Happily it was stupidity not treason that had caused the disastrous
loss of time, and the guide was full of sorrow for his error.
There was nothing now to be done but to return as quickly as possible;
but they were for a while in an awkward fix, as they could get no one
to direct them.
A man whom they asked declared he was too old to guide them, another
on being commanded to lead them ran off shouting and alarmed the
village. It was now midnight, so there was no time to be lost. They
made for the canal, into which Kavanagh fell several times, for his
shoes were wet and slippery, and he was footsore and weary. By this
time the shoes he wore had rubbed the skin off his toes and cut into
the flesh above the heels.
About two o'clock in the morning they came across a picket of Sepoys,
and, thinking it safer not to try and avoid them, went up and asked
the way. Having answered the inquiries put to them without exciting
suspicion, they were directed aright.
They now made for Sir Colin's camp, which the spy told him was
situated at a village called Bunnee, about eighteen miles from
Lucknow.
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