We now followed the enemy throughout the town, and the sniders told with sensible effect wherever they made a stand. The blue lights continued the work; the roar of flames and the dense volumes of smoke, mingled with the continued rattle of musketry, and the savage yells of the natives, swept forward with the breeze, and the capital of Unyoro was a fair sample of the infernal regions. The natives were driven out of the town, but the high grass was swarming with many thousands, who, in the neighbourhood of the station, still advanced to attack the soldiers. I now ordered "The Forty" to clear the grass, and a steady fire of snider rifles soon purged the covert upon which the enemy had relied. In about an hour and a quarter the battle of Masindi was won. Not a house remained of the lately extensive town. A vast open space of smoke and black ashes, with flames flickering in some places where the buildings had been consumed, and at others forked sheets of fire where the fuel was still undestroyed, were the only remains of the capital of Unyoro. The enemy had fled. Their drums and horns, lately so noisy, were now silent. I ordered the bugle to sound "cease firing." We marched through the scorching streets to our station, where I found my wife in deep distress. The bugle sounded the assembly, and the men mustered, and fell in for the roll-call. Four men were missing. Lying on the turf, close to the fort wall, were four bodies arranged in a row and covered with cloths. The soldiers gathered round them as I approached. The cloths were raised. My eyes rested on the pale features of my ever faithful and devoted officer, Monsoor! There was a sad expression of pain on his face. I could not help feeling his pulse; but there was no hope; this was still. I laid his arm gently by his side, and pressed his hand for the last time, for I loved Monsoor as a true friend. His body was pierced with thirty-two lance wounds; thus he had fought gallantly to the last, and he had died like a good soldier; but he was treacherously murdered instead of dying on a fair battle-field. Poor Ferritch Baggara was lying next to him, with two lance wounds through the chest. The other bodies were those of the choush that had fallen by my side, and the soldier who had been shot on the parapet. We were all deeply distressed at the death of poor Monsoor. There never was a more thoroughly unselfish and excellent man. He was always kind to the boys, and would share even a scanty meal in hard times with either friend or stranger. He was the lamb in peace, and the lion in moments of danger. I owed him a debt of gratitude, for although I was the general, and he had been only a corporal when he first joined the expedition, he had watched over my safety like a brother. I should "never see his like again." Monsoor was the only Christian, excepting the European party.