but there was a brigade moving toward the Sikh rear. If the Sikhs could make their way through the British centre, the day might yet be turned in their favor. It was a desperate chance, but the only one. Forming their men in line, the Sikh leaders marched them forward for this forlorn attack—a brave stroke for success. The fate of the day was hanging in the balance.
The probability as well as the danger of this movement had been weighed by the English commander. He had ordered up two companies of horse artillery, but as they went into position it was discovered that they were out of ammunition. Time was lost in sending to the rear for a fresh supply. The silence of the British artillery gave courage to the Sikhs, and had it not happened that the officer nearest the gap was a ready leader, a cool-headed, watchful soldier, and a man of great resources, India might have been wrested from English hands by this one movement. Colonel Campbell perceived the great peril of the situation, and promptly directed the fire of a part of his artillery on the advancing Sikhs. The latter at once realized that the advance could not be continued except at the risk of their flank being exposed to the full fire of Campbell's artillery. This was more than they could stand, and they retreated in sore dismay, protected by their cavalry. They did so not a moment too soon, for the English right wing was already hemming them in. No alternative remained but to leave the field to the British.
By one o'clock Lord Gough had routed the Sikh army, crowding it in large and disorganized masses upon a line of retreat which, if rightly followed up, gave no chance to the discouraged fugitives of support or escape. And it was followed up with great vigor. Cavalry and horse artillery were despatched in pursuit, and followed as closely as possible by the wearied infantry. During all the rest
