The Major had ordered that not a shot was to be fired until they reached it, and it was evident that the silence of the besieged awed the assailants with a sense of unknown danger, for their pace slackened, and when they got to within fifty yards of the breach they paused and opened fire.

Then, urged forward by their officers and encouraged by their own noise, they again rushed forward.

Two of their officers led the way; and as these mounted the little heap of rubbish at the foot of the breach, two rifles cracked out from the terrace, and both fell dead.
There was a yell of fury from the Sepoys, and then they poured in through the breach.

Those in front tried to stop as they saw the trap into which they were entering, but pressed on by those behind they were forced forward.
And now a crackling fire of musketry broke out from the rifles projecting between the sandbags into the crowded mass.

Every shot told.
Wild shrieks, yells, and curses rose from the assailants.