true, helped to guide the frail bark of British supremacy through
victory to the haven of a permanent peace. That star was an unknown
British subaltern named Herbert Edwardes. Edwardes was one of the young
officers deputed to assist the Sikhs in the work of systemising and
purifying their administration, and was at this time engaged in the
revenue settlement of the Dera-Ismail-Khan district. One day in June as
he sat in court settling disputes, there came to him a runner, covered
with dust and sweat, who brought to him a last message from Agnew, as he
lay wounded on his bed in Mooltan. The message asked urgently for help,
and appealed, as the writer knew, to one who would spare no risk or
pains to furnish it. To succour the wounded British officers was a
matter which had passed beyond the region of possibility, for the ink
had hardly dried on their message before they were murdered; but to
re-establish the prestige of the British name, to reassert its dignity
and influence, and to bring to punishment the perpetrators of a hideous
and treacherous crime,--these tasks Herbert Edwardes at once set before
himself.

Alone, save for the presence of one other Englishman, the young British
subaltern, with the sage intrepidity of ripest experience, hastily
summoned the chiefs of the Derajat and Bannu districts to his aid, and
assembled their motley followings under his banner. He sent messengers
to the friendly chief of Bhawulpore, and called on him to join in the
crusade against Mooltan. Then after much feinting and fencing, and
greatly assisted by the stout Van Cortlandt, Edwardes threw his army
across the Indus, at this season a roaring torrent three miles wide, and
sought out his enemy. Coming up with him he defeated Mulraj and his army
of ten thousand men in two pitched battles, and drove him to take refuge
behind the walls of Mooltan.