twenty minutes after the first onslaught the enemy was
writhing under the withering attention of his own abandoned ordnance.
But the odds were still tremendous, and the weight of numbers made the
ultimate outcome of the battle seem a foregone conclusion.

From the British rear heads appeared above the rising ground; the
deserted camp was rushed and set alight. The tents blazed like a beacon
light, and a moment later the Ghoorkas retaliated by setting fire to
such of the rebel camp as had fallen into British hands.

It was those two fires that saved the day. From the sky-line to the
rebel rear came the thunder of a salvo of artillery. It was the short
bark of twelve-pounders loaded up with blank--a signal--and the rebels
did not wait to see whether this was friend or foe. Help from one
unexpected source had reached the British; this, they argued, was
probably another column moving to the relief, and they drew off in
reasonably decent order--harried, pestered, stung, as they attempted
to recover camp-equipment or get away with stores and wagons, by
Cunningham, Alwa, and Mahommed Gunga.

In another hour the rebel army was a black swarm spreading on the
eastern sky-line, and on the far horizon to the north there shone the
glint of bayonets and helmet spikes, the dancing gleam of lance-tips,
and the dazzle from the long, polished bodies of a dozen guns. A
galloper spurred up with a message for Byng.

"You are to join my command," it ran, "for a raid in force on Howrah,
where the rebels are supposed to have been concentrating for months
past. The idea is to paralyze the vitals of the movement before
concentrating somewhere on the road to Delhi, where the rebels are sure
to make a most determined stand."

As he read it Mahommed Gunga galloped up to him, grinning like a boy.

"Cunnigan-sahib's respects, General-sahib! He asks leave to call his men
off, saying that he has done all the damage possible with only fifteen
hundred."

"Yes. Call 'em off and send Cunningham to me. How did he shape?"

"Like a son of Cunnigan-bahadur! General-sahib-salaam!"

"No. Here, you old ruffian--shake hands, will you? Now send Cunningham
to me."

Cunningham came up fifteen minutes later, with a Rangar orderly behind
him, and did his best to salute as though it were nothing more than an
ordinary meeting.

"Oh! Here you are. 'Gratulate you, Cunningham! You came in the nick of
time. What kept you?"

"That 'ud take a long time to tell,