On our return two days after, we had some difficulty in getting up the Pass from the extreme slipperiness of the road after a heavy rain; and when we gained the top the clouds hung round us so dense that we could not see twenty yards in any direction, which was however all in favour of my solitary ride for the next ten miles, as just at this point the Mail Escort turned off for Colonel Buller's camp. For the next fortnight, when not patrolling, we went out buck shooting on the open hills, which abounded with oribee and rheebok; or rode over to the Rifle Brigade camp, dining with them in the snug little cottages they had built of wattle and daub, neatly thatched over, and fitted with doors; the windows made of calico, and the interiors furnished with rough tables and chairs of camp manufacture. On the 14th, I started with a few mounted Boers, for the Blinkwater, _en route_ to Graham's Town; and at Beaufort learned the news of an attack at the notorious Koonap Hill, on a party of Sappers and Miners, escorting Minié Rifles and ammunition from Graham's Town up to the troops on the Frontier. Seven of the men had been killed, and several wounded. The greatest excitement prevailed in the town. Twelve miles further, at Lieuw Fontein, where the post-riders rest two or three hours, was a party of Fingoes on their way to the scene of the above attack, to follow up the spoor; and preferring to take my horse, which I had ridden throughout, at their more leisurely pace, marched with them all night, reaching the Koonap Hill at daybreak. We had the greatest difficulty in getting our frightened horses past the fatal spot. The scarped road was obstructed with dead horses, oxen, and mules, shot in the conflict. Two waggons had been turned over, and the bodies of a couple of Hottentots lay dead in the middle of the path, which was covered with pools of blood; and for half a mile further, strewn with torn uniform, blood-stained linen, flour, coffee, sugar, and commissariat supplies.