And, instead of ordering the advance immediately, he waited, scouring the sky-line with his glasses.
"Yes--dust--lance-heads--one--two--three divisions, coming in a hurry." Being on rising ground, he saw the distant relieving force much sooner than the rebels did, and he knew that it was help for him on the way some time before the first of the five gallopers careered into the camp, and shouted: "Cunnigan-bahadur comes with fifteen hundred!" "Fifteen hundred," muttered Byng.

"That merely serves to postpone the finish by an hour or two!" But he waited; and presently the rebel scouts brought word, and their leaders, too, became aware of reinforcements on the way for somebody.
They made the mistake, though, of refusing to believe that any help could be coming for the British, and by the time that messengers had hurried from the direction of the British rear, to tell of gallopers who had ridden past them and been swallowed by the shouting British lines, three squadrons on fresh horses were close enough to be reckoned dangerous.
"Is that a gun they've got with them ?" wondered Byng.

"By the lord Harry, no,--it's a coach and six! They're flogging it along like a twelve-pounder! And what the devil's in those wagons ?" But he had no time for guesswork.

The desultory thunder of the rebel ordnance ceased, and the whole mass that hemmed him in began to revolve within itself, and present a new front to the approaching cavalry.
"Caught on the hop, by God! The whole line will advance! Trumpeter!" One trumpet-call blared out and a dozen echoed it.

In a second more a roar went up that is only heard on battle-fields.