The advantages which the Kaffir possesses on such ground over regular troops is immense; armed only with his gun, or assegais, free and unencumbered by pack, clothing, or accoutrements, his naked body covered with grease, he climbs the rocks, and works through the familiar bush with the stealth and agility of the tiger, while the infantry soldier, in European clothing, loaded with three days rations, sixty rounds of ball cartridge, water canteen, bayonet, and heavy musket, labours after him with a pluck and perseverance which none but British soldiers possess, and which, somehow or other, in spite of every obstacle in every clime, ever wins its way in the end. Sir Harry Smith, in his despatch of the 18th of December, 1851, to Earl Grey, gives a very just estimate of the character of the formidable enemy with whom we had thus to contend, whom he describes, as fully as much so as the Algerines or Circassians, and says, "Fraternized with the numerous and well-trained Hottentot race, they are, in their mode of guerilla warfare, most formidable enemies, as much so as I ever encountered; and I speak with some experience in war, to which I may lay claim." The situation of the officer on such occasions is one of no small danger and responsibility; himself leading through all impediments, a coveted mark to every lurking Tottie or Kaffir, he has not only to exercise the greatest vigilance to prevent his men being separated and cut off, but must carefully mark his proper route and bearings, lest he wander into the endless mazes of the trackless forest, and not only lose his whole party, but involve co-operating bodies in disaster. [Illustration: DEATH OF LT. COLONEL FORDYCE (_Waterkloof Nov. 6^{th} 1851_)] After leading our flank into the bush in person, and giving his final orders, Colonel Fordyce proceeded to the left of the regiment to direct their movements against the fastness held by the enemy, from the shelter of which they kept up an annoying fire. At this moment he had advanced to the edge of the bush in front, and was in the very act of directing the attack upon it, when he was shot through the body, and fell to rise no more; the last and only words of our brave chief were, "Take care of my regiment:" he was borne to the rear, and breathed his last in a few minutes.