entered almost every mind but his own. Even the great historian of the period, Mr. Orme, wrote that 'prudence counselled retreat.' But to the word prudence Clive applied a different meaning. To him prudence was boldness. What was to become of the British prestige, of the British position in Southern India, if he, without cavalry, were to abandon the field to an enemy largely provided with that arm, and who would be urged to extraordinary energy by the fact that the unconquered hero of Arcot had fled before them?
No: he would think only of conquering; and he conquered. After four hours of fighting, all to his disadvantage, he resolved to act, in petto, on the principle he had put into action when he first seized Arcot. He would carry the war into the enemy's position. By a very daring experiment he discovered that the rear of the wooded redoubt occupied by the French had been left unguarded. With what men were available he stormed it; took the enemy by surprise, the darkness wonderfully helping him; and threw them into a panic. Of this panic he promptly took advantage; forced the Frenchmen to surrender; then occupied their strong position, and halted, waiting for the day. With the early morn he pushed on and occupied Káveripák. The enemy had disappeared. The corpses of fifty Frenchmen and the bodies of 300 wounded showed how fierce had been the fight. He had, too, many prisoners. His own losses were heavy: forty English and thirty sipáhís.
