When it was ascertained that the Sikhs had finally retired, the men rested themselves for the first time during that toilsome and eventful day; but bodily fatigue was a trifling evil when compared with the parching thirst from which all had long suffered, and from which there was yet no relief. But if those who escaped unharmed had undergone incredible hardships, the agonies of the wounded can scarcely be conjectured, as only partial relief could be afforded amongst the crowds of sufferers. The enemy having made no demonstrations of renewing the attack, the troops were withdrawn, about midnight, to their encampments at Moodkee. The forces engaged on the British side, during this action, amounted to something less than ten thousand men and forty-five guns. The return of losses gives two hundred and fifteen killed and six hundred and fifty seven wounded. The enemy's force encountered at Moodkee was estimated, in the despatches, at fifteen thousand Infantry, as many cavalry, and forty guns.[24] Of course it is necessary to form some estimate of the enemy's force on such occasions; but though always a difficult operation with regard to native armies, in this instance it could be no more than mere conjecture, for the jungle prevented the chance of giving anything resembling an accurate judgment. The enemy's loss was never ascertained; but, judging from the bodies scattered over the country, the number of killed may be set down at about three hundred. Their wounded were carried to Ferozeshuhur and the villages in the neighbouring country, so that the Sikhs themselves were, doubtless, never aware of the actual amount. Amongst the officers who fell in this action was the gallant Sir Robert Sale, whose leg was shattered by a grape shot. The shock proved fatal to him in the course of the night of the 18th. Ever foremost in the numerous actions in which he was engaged, it is only a matter of wonder that so fearless a soldier should so long have been spared. The battle-field was his element; and had the fates permitted him to select his last resting-place, he would have asked no other than the path of victory, beneath which he sleeps. The combined roar of eighty pieces of cannon saluted the parting spirit of the hero of Jellalabad on the field of strife; and though his remains rest on the far-distant eastern plains which have witnessed his warlike achievements, yet will his name descend to posterity bright in the ranks of England's departed heroes. Sir Hugh Gough heartily congratulated the troops on their gallantry. Such an eulogium is valuable, coming from a veteran, whose undaunted bearing and personal example (on every occasion in the front, or "where death came thickest,") was the universal theme of applause in the army.