That evening Colonel Harrison was in his tent, engaged in writing orders for the next day’s march, when Lord Chelmsford came in to tell him “The Prince is killed!” and Lieutenant Carey soon after confirmed the dreadful, well-nigh incredible news. He said they were off-saddled at a kraal, when they were surrounded and fired into, and that the Prince must have been killed, for no one had seen him afterwards. Colonel Harrison asked the General to let him take a few men to the kraal, and see if, by any chance, the Prince were only wounded, or were hidden near at hand, but his request was not granted, and the testimony of the survivors extinguished all hope. Next day General Marshall, with a cavalry patrol, went out to search for the Prince, being assisted by scouts of the Flying Column. The bodies of the troopers were soon found, and shortly afterwards that of His Imperial Highness was found by Captain Cochrane, lying in a donga about 200 yards from the kraal where the party had halted. The body was stripped with the exception of a gold chain with medallions attached, which was still round his neck. Sword, revolver, helmet, and clothes were gone; but in the grass were found the Prince’s spurs and one sock. The body had eighteen assegai wounds, all in front, and the marks on the ground and on the spurs indicated a desperate resistance. The two white troopers were laid together beside a cairn of stones, which was erected to mark the exact spot where the Prince was found, and later in the day they were buried there, the chaplain on duty with the column performing the funeral service. But for the Prince himself a true soldiers’ bier was formed of lances lashed together and horse blankets, and, borne thus, the body of the noble lad was carried up the hill towards the camp which he had left the previous day so full of energy and life. The melancholy news was telegraphed throughout the colony, causing universal grief and consternation. Every heart was wrung with sympathy for _the mother_; and even those to whose homes and hearts the war had already brought desolation, felt their own grief hushed for awhile in the presence of a bereavement which seemed to surpass all others in bitterness and depth. What citizen of ’Maritzburg will ever forget the melancholy Sunday afternoon, cold and storm-laden, when, at the first distant sound of the sad approaching funeral music, all left their homes and lined the streets through which the violet-adorned coffin passed on its way to its temporary resting-place. In Durban, too, the solemn scene was repeated; the whole colony being deeply moved at the sad and untimely death of the gallant Prince. H.M.S. _Boadicea_, flag-ship of Commodore Richards, had the honour of conveying the body to Simon’s Bay, when it was transferred to H.M.S. _Orontes_ with every possible mark of respect for conveyance to England.