At length, on the morning of the 14th, they could see with their glasses Pollock’s force coming near. They had not arrived in time to help the garrison in their imminent peril. They had lost the grand opportunity of joining with them to crush the man whose treachery had destroyed their brothers-in-arms, whose bones lay scattered in the icy passes of Cabul. A fifth part of Pollock’s cavalry would have enabled them to annihilate Akbar and all his troops. So when next morning Pollock’s force did arrive, there was a hearty welcome, but a sly bit of sarcasm in the tune to which the band of the 13th played them in, “Ye’re ower lang o’ comin’.” It was not Pollock’s fault, however. He had to wait for the troops to join him at Peshawar. “Let me relate one incident,” writes Colonel Seaton, “that will tend to illustrate the character of my old commander, General Sir R. Sale. “Shortly after Akbar’s camp appeared in sight it was whispered about in garrison that Akbar intended to bring Lady Sale, then a prisoner in his hands, before the walls, and put her to torture within sight, and so compel Sale to surrender. “Every day when the men were at dinner Sale used to take a turn on the ramparts, ostensibly to have a quiet look round at the progress of our works, but in reality, I believe, to ponder on the desperate situation of his wife and daughter, and debate with himself the means of effecting their rescue. “We knew that they were well, had hitherto been kindly treated, and were in Akbar’s fort, not many miles off. “One day Sale, in going his rounds, came and stood over the south gate, where I was on duty; so, as I had enjoyed the privilege of great intimacy with him and Lady Sale at Cabul, I went out and joined him. I ventured to mention this report, and asked him what he would do if it should prove true, and if Akbar should put his threat into execution. “Turning towards me, his face pale and stern, but quivering with deep emotion, he replied: “‘I--I will have every gun turned on her. My old bones shall be buried beneath the ruins of the fort here, but I will never surrender!’” Could Lady Sale have heard it, her heart would have bounded with pride, for the heroine was worthy of her hero. The reception of the garrison by Lord Ellenborough at Ferozepoor was a noble and ample return for all their toil and suffering. His lordship had taken care that each officer and man of the “illustrious garrison,” as he termed them, should have a medal, and they were sent out to them before they reached Ferozepoor. Not an English officer in India at this time had such a mark of distinction. They were the first to be so honoured, and were highly gratified by it.