In Heideck’s opinion the day was lost to the English, and he prepared himself to die a soldier’s death, together with the brave men surrounding him.  With feelings of sincerest admiration he confessed how great was the bravery, and how admirable the discipline that animated the English-born troops.  Those regiments and batteries in which no native elements were mingled, stood calm and unshaken amongst all the terrible confusion, and thanks to their bravery, the battle, which opened in such disorder, began to present clear features, like those of the sharp peaks of a chain of mountains appearing above the mist, as it rolls down.

Instead of the semibarbarous horsemen that had opened the attack, new Russian batteries and colossal masses of infantry, with compact companies of riflemen, as well as several regiments of dragoons, now faced the English troops.

The Commander-in-Chief, with about 6,000 men and two batteries, was with the second English division, which had been greatly reduced in numbers.  It was evidently his object to retire in good order towards Lahore, and to cover the retreat with his best troops.

He succeeded in withdrawing two smaller bodies from the right and left wing respectively by despatching orderlies.  But the first division was so closely engaged with Russian infantry that an orderly retreat was almost impossible.

Notwithstanding this, the Commander was bent on making the attempt to withdraw also the first division of his army.  He despatched one of his adjutants to Colonel Baird, who still had perhaps about 2,000 men under his command, with the order to break off the battle and to retire.  The young officer saluted with grave face, drew his sword, and galloped away.  But he had only traversed a small part of his dangerous journey, a distance of about a mile, when he fell a victim to the call of duty, being attacked and hurled from the saddle by a body of Cossacks mounted on small, rough-haired, but very swift steeds.

The General appeared undecided whether to stake another young life on this hopeless test.  Heideck rode up to him and lifted his hand to his helmet.

“Will Your Excellency allow me to ride?  I am a friend of Colonel Baird and should be glad of the opportunity of showing him my gratitude for his kindness to me.”

The General sharply scrutinised the gentleman who was unknown to him, who looked like an officer, though not wearing the prescribed uniform; but he did not take the time to question him.

“Ride!” he said shortly.  “The Colonel is no longer to hold out; he is to march to the right and retreat towards Lahore—­if possible.”

Heideck saluted and turned his horse.  He had replaced his revolver in his belt, and returned his sword to its sheath.

Not by the aid of weapons, but solely by the rapidity of his horse could he hope to reach his goal.  He gave his steed its head, and encouraged it by calling to it.  The animal did not disappoint the hopes placed upon it.  It seemed to fly, rather than run over the trampled ground.  The Cossacks, who attempted to intercept this single horseman, were unable to reach him.  And of all the shots aimed at the bold rider not one reached its mark.