With the assistance of a few old, pensioned soldiers, whom I made interest to get appointed to my "Force," I managed to initiate these promising recruits into the mysteries of a certain quantum of Light Infantry drill; so that in about a fortnight this little brigade was reported as fit to take the field.

My orders were to keep constantly patrolling along the Eastern boundary, over an extent of about a hundred miles; eastward as far as the mouth of the great Fish River; thence to the Tarka and Winterberg mountains; in order to intercept and destroy such parties of Kaffirs as might attempt to cross this line. To afford protection and assistance to such farin-houses as might be attacked, and to recapture any cattle which the enemy should endeavour to carry away.

Were I to copy from my journal the many varied incidents and adventures of different kinds the cattle-lifting expeditions we were engaged in; the number of oxen, sheep, and goats, we rescued from the hands of the Philistines; the number of Kaffirs we shot; our bivouacking, marching, and counter-marching during the eventful campaigning which ensued; I should probably exhaust the patience

of my most forbearing readers, and extend this narrative beyond all reasonable bounds.

However, that my duties were of an arduous nature, may easily be inferred: "for it was certainly no child's play, tracking through the dense bush by a narrow path, in Indian file-having a volley of musketry suddenly poured on the party from above; and stalwart and naked warriors rushing with yells and stabbing assagaïs from the elephant grass around.'

Such was the sort of life (thus graphically described by the talented author* of one of the many Kaffir wars) I led for several consecutive months, during which hardships, dangers, and fatigues were endured only to be understood by those conversant with the nature of warfare against savages, possessed of all the characteristic attributes of the most crafty and ferocious beasts of prey.

*Sir James Alexander.

CHAPTER XXIII.

A BRUSH WITH THE KAFFIRS, AND A MEETING WITH AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE.

"And as each comrade's name they tell,
Who in the well-fought conflict fell,
Knitting stern brow o'er flashing eye,
Vow to avenge them or to die.”

Lord of the Isles.

HAVING heard during the course of one of my patrolling expeditions, that a strong party of marauding Kaffirs, had recently passed between Fort Beaufort and the Kat River settlement, I immediately set out in pursuit, and having got on their spoor" or track, followed up the trail; pushing rapidly after them in the direction of the Tarka, with the whole of my "Irregular Horse," in hopes of being able to overtake and disperse these freebooters, before they commenced their customary cattle-lifting operations.

Such was, however, the celerity with which they moved; that unable to effect this object, I was obliged to halt when it became dark, near a place called the "Springs," at the head of a long, steep, and wooded defile, known as the "Little Winterberg" Pass.

It was now the depth of the South African winter; and on the high table-land, where we intended to bivouac for the night, the weather was bitterly cold.

Fortunately, we discovered a half-ruined and deserted house, in which we took refuge for the night, or I verily believe we should all have been frozen to death. At dawn of day next morning and a miserably cold morning it was—we again mounted our horses, and continued to follow the spoor, which led in the direction of Post Retief.

We had not, however, proceeded many miles, when the appearance, first of a cloud of dust, and then of a horseman, rapidly approaching, put us all on the alert. Firelocks were speedily uncased; the priming examined; charges rammed home; and drawing up my party in readiness to meet an attack, I sent forward Klein Buoy-an active little Hottentot belonging to the Cape Corps, and who was always

my right-hand man-with two of the bestmounted people of the troop, to reconnoitre and act as videttes in advance.

These three men shortly returned in company with, and apparently supporting in his saddle, the horseman we had observed, who, throwing himself from his reeking steed, staggered for a pace or two, and then, covered with dust and blood, fell-an assegaï sticking through his back-exhausted and speechless, to the ground.

This poor fellow, who seemed now in the last agonies of death, had the appearance of a Hottentot " herd," or shepherd, employed by the colonial farmers to tend their flocks.

As Klein Buoy and I, supported the bleeding man to a neighbouring grassy knoll, he convulsively gasped for breath; and uttering the words "Almagtig,"-"Help,"-" Kaffirs" -"Ralsmeyer"-" Farm "—" Wolf's Fontein"-with a sudden effort he grasped firmly the assegaï protruding through his breast; plucked it from the wound; then sinking back, he instantly expired, with the words "Wolf's Fontein " upon his lips.

Klein Buoy, who appeared to know every krantz and kloof, from the Winterberg to the