Nevertheless he instructed the Indian cavalry to push on to Robat and open up heliographic communication with Candahar.  It then transpired that the approach of the column had already changed the situation.  Already, on August 23, Ayub had raised the siege and retired to the hills north of the city.  That relief came none too soon appeared on the morning of the 31st, when the thin and feeble cheering that greeted the rescuers on their entrance to the long beleaguered town told its sad tale of want, disease, and depression of heart.  The men who had marched 313 miles in 22 days—­an average of 14-1/4 miles a day—­felt a thrill of sympathy, not unmixed with disgust in some cases, at the want of spirit too plainly discernible among the defenders.  The Union Jack was not hoisted on the citadel until the rescuers were near at hand[325].  General Roberts might have applied to them Hecuba’s words to Priam:—­

     Non tali auxilio, nec defensoribus istis
     Tempus eget.

As for the morale of the relieving force, it now stood at the zenith, as was seen on the following day.  Framing his measures so as to encourage Ayub to stand his ground, Roberts planned his attack in the way that had already led to success, namely, a frontal attack more imposing than serious, while the enemy’s flank was turned and his communications threatened.  These moves were carried out by Generals Ross and Baker with great skill.  Under the persistent pressure of the British onset the Afghans fell back from position to position, north-west of Candahar; until finally Major White with the 92nd, supported by Gurkhas and the 23rd Pioneers, drove them back to their last ridge, the Baba Wali Kotal, swarmed up its western flank, and threw the whole of the hostile mass in utter confusion into the plain beyond.  Owing to the very broken nature of the ground, few British and Indian horsemen were at hand to reap the full fruits of victory; but many of Ayub’s regulars and ghazis fell under their avenging sabres.  The beaten force deserved no mercy.  When the British triumph was assured, the Afghan chief ordered his prisoner, Lieutenant Maclaine, to be butchered; whereupon he himself and his suite took to flight.  The whole of his artillery, twenty-seven pieces, including the two British guns lost at Maiwand, fell into the victor’s hands.  In fact, Ayub’s force ceased to exist; many of his troops at once assumed the garb of peaceful cultivators, and the Pretender himself fled to Herat[326].

[Footnote 325:  Roberts, op. cit. vol. ii. p. 357.]

[Footnote 326:  Parl.  Papers, Afghanistan, No. 3 (1880), p. 82.  Hensman, The Afghan War; Shadbolt, op. cit. pp. 108-110.  The last reckons Ayub’s force at 12,800, of whom 1200 were slain.]