Dressing himself as a native soldier, and covering his face and hands with lampblack, he was so altered in appearance that even his friends failed to recognise him.  Thus disguised, and accompanied by a native spy named Kunoujee Lal to guide him, he set out.  The night, fortunately, was dark and favoured their design.  The first thing they did was to ford the Goomtee, a river about a hundred yards wide, and four or five feet deep.  Taking off their garments they waded across; but whilst in the water Kavanagh’s courage reached a low ebb, and he wished himself back again.  However, they got to the opposite bank in safety, and crouching up a ditch found a grove of trees, where they dressed.

Kavanagh’s confidence had now returned, and he felt so sure of his disguise that he even exchanged a few words with a matchlock-man whom they met.  After going on for about half a mile they reached the iron bridge over the river, and here they were challenged by a native officer.  Kavanagh kept judiciously in the shade whilst the guide advanced and answered the questions put to him satisfactorily, and they were allowed to proceed.  A little further they passed through a number of Sepoys, but these let them go by without inquiry.  Having had the good fortune to get unperceived past a sentry who was closely questioning a native, they came into the principal street of Lucknow, jostling against the armed rebels, who would have killed them in a moment had their suspicion been aroused.  But no mishap occurred, and after being challenged by a watchman they at last found themselves to their great relief out in the open country.

They were now in the best of spirits, and went along for a few miles in a state of great gladness.  Then came a rude shock.  They had taken the wrong direction, and were returning into the midst of the rebels.  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.